Podcasts about Twirling

 Quaranteam - Dave In Dallas: Part 3 Houses Belsus bonds over pain. Based on a post by RonanJWilkerson, in 12 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Becca took a small sip of her drink. Her eyes flared lightly, but she didn't cough or choke. "Dave, tell me a story from when you were younger. Something stupid you once did." Dave's head fell back against the couch. "Oh boy. I didn't do any of the usual stupid stuff. Far too insular for that, no group of friends to drag me into wild, hilarious mistakes." Dave thought for a minute, trying to decide if he should tell this particular story. Or if he could. Hell, they were stuck living with him, they deserved to know. "Okay, so this happened in my second summer of college. I was tutoring a lot, and one lady in particular met with me at least once a week. Really nice person, pretty too. Her name was Kim Dawson. She'd gone all in on the late 80's media image of what pretty looked like; dyed blonde hair, boob implants, blue contact lenses. That helped her professionally of course; she worked as a stripper and did well enough to pay her tuition out of pocket, plus a small but nice rent house for her and her son." "You went to her house?" Dave nodded while swallowing the sip he'd just taken. "After the first several sessions, we got comfortable with each other, and it was helpful to her for me to come over on days she didn't have classes, especially if she had to go to work after our tutoring session." Dave paused for a moment, gathering the courage to continue. "So, about two months after we started working together, I'm at her house, sitting at her dinner table. It's a small round table to one side of her kitchen. Like I said, it's a small house, but good condition and she kept it well. Big enough for her and a six year old. Anyway, she gets up to take a brain break and decides she's going to change. She wasn't heading to work, and had come back from running errands, so she wanted to put on something more comfortable." Dave noted the ladies exchanging glances amongst themselves. "Just,; don't judge okay?" He paused again for a moment. "She left her bedroom door open, but the table was well away from the door, like a big angle away." Another look shared. "I didn't follow her with my eyes or anything, but she started talking to me through the open door, so naturally I turned my head towards the door. There was a mirror on the wall that I could see. Now, no, no she wasn't visible in the mirror. At least not from the angle and distance I was at." The looks passing among the ladies were both cryptic in the specifics and utterly obvious in the general meaning. "Oh, I forgot to mention that earlier we had discussed payment. She said this might have to be the last session for a while because she didn't think she could afford to pay. I had told her we could work something out." Three sets of eyebrows raised. "No, not like that. I just assured her I'd let her pay it out if she needed to. I was trying to be accommodating. She needed the help, she put in the work, I was just trying to be helpful." "Oh, baby." Jan said sympathetically. Dave winced. "So then she says she can't hear me well and asks me to come to the door to talk to her." He sighed. "I didn't. I told her I couldn't, I didn't want to violate her privacy. I don't think those were the actual words I used, but it was something like that." Dave couldn't even look at the others, just stared up at the ceiling. "She insists, says she strips to a G-string multiple times a night and she's already in a bra and shorts, she's just looking for a shirt, so it's no big deal." Another sigh. "Then she finally says she wants me to come back there; to; be with her. She; she said I could sleep with her in exchange for tutoring." "Oh my god, David you didn't did you?" Lupie asked. "No, no of course I didn't. And that was the problem. I couldn't. I felt frozen. What she was asking me to do was against everything I'd been taught about being a good guy. And I had nothing against her, but I'd been taught that all the guys at the strip club were abusing her, and I didn't want to do the same, so I stayed put and told her I couldn't do that to her, we can work something else out. After a bit more back and forth, she got pissed and told me to leave. My legs had been frozen the entire time, locked up. I finally managed to force myself up and walked out." All three ladies were absolutely silent. "That wasn't the end of it. After waiting a week, I tried calling a few times to see if she wanted a tutoring session. She never answered." More silence. "Two semesters later, I take organic chem, and one of my classmates and study partners is a friend of Kim's. I didn't know that at first, she waited until we had been working together awhile. She finally told me it was a ruse. Kim made enough in two or three nights to pay rent for a month, and another four covered all the groceries for a month. Mind you, this was early 90's so a lot of things were cheaper. Hell, gas was barely over a dollar a gallon. Kim had set it up to make a fantasy play and I blew it. According to Beth, Kim felt hurt. That was absolutely mind boggling to me. I just couldn't accept the idea that I could mean enough to a woman to hurt her in anyway, certainly not by not having sex with her." Becca shifted against him, turning toward him. "Yeah, I know. I'm an idiot." "You really had no idea?" Jan queried. "Not a bit. I just didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want to be the jackass. Turns out I was anyway." "David," Becca asked, "could I get some help with my math?" She kept her tone even, but her face belied her joke. "Oh hush." Becca worried about missing out on college, so Jan suggested she work through some of Dave's history and biography books as a substitute for a history course. The two were downstairs in the library, reading and talking. This left Lupie and Dave alone in bed. Both were certain it was not a mere coincidence. Lupie curled into Dave's side, her head resting on his chest. She wore a light camisole. He wore his usual; nothing. "David, I wanted to thank you for backing me up the other morning with Esme." "You're welcome. I just thought it was important she not get the idea she can play me against you." Lupie snuggled him tighter. "Still, I think it fair you know what she was about to say." "Only if you think it necessary." "It's a little embarrassing. I thought she was asleep. And I thought I was being quiet." Lupie paused, blushing. "Still it has been several years since I've,; um;” "Gotcha." "Yes, so, um, there have been times when I've; taken care of certain needs. And I was thinking of you. She must have been awake and heard me call your name." Lupie's head was buried as hard into his chest as possible without breaking ribs. "Well, now you don't have to imagine. You have me, and I have you." "You're not upset?" "More like flattered. And frustrated with myself. If I'd picked up on some signs, maybe;” "Let's not go down the 'what if' road David. You're right. We have each other now. We'll build from here." Dave tightened the hug for a moment. "You know, I passed by when you were on your computer earlier. It's kinda cool to see you work. You have this penetrating gaze, like you're dissecting everything you read, weighing each word in a balance and jettisoning the unworthy." "Hmm, must have been when I was working on that memo about handover protocols. Those details can give anyone a headache." Lupie kissed his jawline. "But I don't want to talk about work now. Just hold me, David." September 23, 2020. "What do you want to make for dinner tonight?" Dave asked as he and Janice entered the kitchen. "Not sure just yet. Tell you what, you check the fridge, I'll go into the pantry and check the shelves. Let's see what we come up with from what we see." "Okay." Dave started scanning the fridge shelves for ingredients when a thought occurred to him. The pantry was private. It had been a day or so for Jan. He walked over and opened the door. "Oh good, I was wondering if I'd have to play damsel in distress needing my big strong man to help me find something in this tight little space." "Well, I do have a probe made especially for tight spaces." He kissed her, balancing hunger with tenderness. Jan hummed into the kiss. She wrapped her arms around Dave's neck and pulled her body against his. "Umm-hmm, and that probe is so very good too." She nibbled lightly on his lower lip. Knowing they had little time, and Jan was up for a quickie, Dave took hold of her slacks and panties at the waist band and pulled them down to her knees. Jan emitted a delighted squeak. Her eyes shone with excitement as he stood and picked her up, carrying her to a bare patch of wall between shelves. He shoved his cargo shorts and boxers to his ankles, then hooked his hands under her thighs and lifted and folded her in one motion as he pressed her to the wall. She gasped and moaned, giving her approval and yielding herself to his power, confident that he would meet her needs as he saw to his own. Dave drove himself into her, the serum effects having made her fully wet already. He slid full length on the first thrust. She groaned happily, hungrily and gripped his shoulders. They were pressed for time, so he pounded into her hot wet tunnel with fervor. Such was her excitement that she reached her first climax in just a few minutes. Desperately trying to contain her enjoyment, Jan bit Dave's shoulder as he accelerated his thrusting, pounding more vigorously than he ever had, racing Jan to a second climax a minute before he burst inside her, kicking her over the orgasmic abyss a third time. Dave stopped, holding her in place as both panted for air. The enclosed pantry suddenly felt hot and muggy. His legs felt wobbly. He carefully lowered her legs to the ground, allowing himself to fall outside of her as he did so. Jan pouted for a moment, then dropped to her knees to clean off his cock. "Can't make a mess in here now can we?" She said with a wink. She pulled his shorts up before drawing her own pants into place. Then she sauntered out the door. Dave followed, but nearly ran into her when she stopped short two steps out the door. Lupie and Becca stood there, smirking and clapping. Jan blushed and turned, burying her face in Dave's chest. "Get over it girl, we're all gonna catch each other like that once in a while." Becca said. "I'll remind you of that when it's you," Lupie razzed. Dinner was only a little late, but it was good. Lupie winkingly attributed the good taste to the fact it was made with love. September 24, 2020. Dave looked into the kitchen and saw Lupie at the counter, her back to him, working away. He walked carefully up behind her and gently placed his hands on her hips. She started for a second, then settled into him, allowing her back to rest on his chest. She laid her work down and lay her head on his shoulder. "Hmm. This, this right here." Dave turned his head to hers and they shared a slow, soft kiss as he brought his hands around to her abdomen. They rocked slowly together, swaying to unheard music. What Dave had intended as a happy little moment escalated when Lupie started grinding her rear against his crotch. A moment later, she brought his hands up to her tits. Dave was caught between excitement and control. He very much wanted to paw at her lovely mounds. A wonderfully medium size, Lupie's tits were just barely less than a handful. About as pert as could be natural for a woman in her early thirties. She moaned as he groped. Lupie spun in his arms, kissed him, grabbed his hand, and took off to the bedroom. Dave kept up easily, grinning and laughing the whole way. He stopped her twice to pull her in for a kiss. Once the door closed, they each ripped off their own clothes and sprinted to the bed. Lupie pulled Dave on top of her, her legs apart, insistently rubbing her body against him. "Hungry much?" "What's going on is a tragedy of epic proportions, but I also feel more free than I have in ages. Since I was a teen. Now fuck your bitch in heat David." She snagged his head in her hands and kissed him passionately. Her legs wrapped around him, leaving him enough room to maneuver himself to her entrance. Her own thrusting and abundance of lubrication had him sinking deep into her the moment he lined himself up. She kept up her pelvic motions, timing them with Dave's thrusting. They fucked frantically, frenetically, neither pausing or relenting until Dave burst into Lupie, shooting several thick ropes into her warm, waiting depths. Lupie shuddered with his emissions, griping him tightly with her arms, legs, and inner muscles. They lay panting for a few moments and then looked at each other and laughed. September 25, 2020. Friday mid-morning found Dave on the couch, debating a point of fandom with Becca. "Picard was way wilder than Kirk. They just seem the other way around in contrast with their first officers." "That's crazy talk, Becca. Picard is the staid diplomat that negotiates treaties. Kirk is the bar-room brawler that fought every alien in the sector, or bedded them." "Kirk was the A-student that cheated on the big final exam but got a pass afterward since he was a teacher's pet. Picard was an athlete and got into a bar fight with Naussicans. And got stabbed through the heart." "How dare you speak so insultingly of Jean-Luc the great?" Dave mock-scowled. "Because he's good but not great." Becca giggled. "Blasphemy! I'll shall exorcise the demon from your mind young one!" "And just how to do you plan on doing that?" The grin was the same, but her eyes had picked up a hungry glimmer. Dave did not answer. He lunged at her, hands reaching for her ribs. And then he began tickling her. Becca let out an "Oh!" As Dave barreled into her, pressing her against the couch arm. As soon as he began tickling her, she let out a loud happy shriek, followed by a series of cackles. Dave relented briefly and she caught her breath. Becca gave him a quick kiss, then slipped from under him, heading for the stairs with a look over her shoulder. With a huge grin, Dave shot after her, catching her at the top of the stairs and tickling her again. Her legs gave out from under her during the pleasant bombardment on her sides. He scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom. He kicked the door shut, then walked over and tossed her on the bed before jumping atop her, kissing and groping. She responded in kind, hungry and happy. They started shedding clothes wildly, paying no heed to where they landed. Mutually nude, mutually aroused, hands roaming they rolled on the bed. Dave slipped his hands to her ribs again. Becca squealed in anticipation just as he began to tickle her. Laughing and cackling she wiggled about, half-heartedly trying to escape his grasp. In the commotion, Dave still managed to align himself with her entrance, and pushed himself partially inside. He stopped his assault on her ribs just as he penetrated. A cross between a gasp and a sigh ushered from Becca. Eyes closed, she grinned wildly. Dave drove himself slowly, methodically within her. She draped her hands around his back and her legs around his waist. A look of blissful contentment blazed forth from her. He coaxed her to climax three times before finally allowing himself to spill into her. Afterward, they lay spooning in bed, Dave's chest against Becca's back, his right arm draped over her side, hand resting on her tummy. Breathing, just being close. Until Dave heard soft sobs from her. "Becca?" "I'm sorry. It felt so great, and then I thought about telling my Aunt Teresa about how my life is changed, how good I feel in bed with you, having you in my life like this." She shuddered with grief. "She's; she's; I'll never get to talk with her again. She's the one; I could talk to. When mom was stuck on rote doctrine, Aunt Teresa talked to me. Even if she echoed mom's position, she talked to me. Now they're all just gone." Dave held her firmly, letting her cry, letting her know he was there with her. After several minutes of silence, he spoke. "We live in dark times, beloved. For now anyway, happiness comes in bursts, sadness in buckets." He paused to compose himself. "We cling together to weather the storm. Separately, we may all drown." She placed her hand on his, reassuring herself he was there, as she cried herself to sleep. She never noticed his tears falling in her hair. September 28, 2020. Dave opened the door, half-expecting a National Guardsman with a woman to add to his house. He wasn't wrong. The lady in question stood ready, with a bright smile. A telegenic smile. And Dave recognized her after a moment. "Holy crap. You're Shawna Cooper! How the hell did you wind up here?" "Well, according to Oracle, you were my best match at 93%" with that same rich, assuring voice he'd come to appreciate from the TV. "Wow, okay." Dave paused to sign the form. He hadn't paid too much attention the first two times so he scanned the document quickly. He burst out laughing. The soldier grinned. "Yeah, some chairborne ranger had a little fun with that one." Shawna looked at him funny. "Something I should know?" "I'll tell you inside, with the others. They should hear this too." Dave waved as the military truck pulled away, then lead Shawna into the living room. The rest of the house must have heard the door. All three ladies currently bonded to Dave were already in the living room. "Hello" said Shawna, cautiously attempting to engage the other women. "Hey aren't you; " "Shawna Cooper, Senior Meteorologist at WFAA. Although, I may get promoted to Chief Meteorologist soon." A short round of congratulations circulated for the next minute. "Wow, Dave, you're accumulating a real smorgasbord of women. A blonde, a Latina, an Asian woman, and now a black woman." Jan smirked. Dave shook his head and closed his eyes. Shawna chuckled. "If she hadn't said it, I would have." "I'm surrounded by smart alecks." "Each of whom was selected by a computer especially for you." Apparently, the new arrival wasn't giving a holiday on sass. The playful smile on her face was already enchanting Dave's heart. "God help me." "He did David, He sent you us." Lupie punctuated her statement with a quick kiss. The others laughed. "Okay, what was that at the door about the form?" Shawna inquired. "And something about an airborne ranger?" Dave smiled. "No, a chairborne ranger. It's the army version of a desk jockey. Someone that works an army office job, but probably has a bunch of military memorabilia. They think they're a badass, but they've never been in the field without a GP medium and a heater." "You served?" Jan asked. "No, but I had a good friend that was special forces. Taught me a lot." A grey cloud of uncertainty fell across Dave's face. He shook it off. "Anyway, desk jockeys handle the paperwork and sometimes make new forms. All government forms are identified by letters signifying the department that created it, followed by some numbers. The form I have to sign when y'all get dropped off must have been created by an army guy because it's Form DA-6969-R." After a two count, the meaning of the numbers sank in and everyone burst out laughing. "Hmm, now that's giving me ideas" purred Shawna, her eyes slightly hooded. "I try to give each of you some time to get used to me and the house before making that last leap." Lupie piped up, "But we do have precedent for no delay." Becca blushed. "Oh, poor baby," Shawna teased, "did the pretty little blonde jump your bones before you were ready?" "There were some extenuating circumstances, which you will learn in time. I'm sure it will be part of the family story as we go forward. We did know each other before she got vaxxed, so I had some comfort level that she wanted this without the serum effects." "Could I get a quick thumbnail description?" "I'm Dave's next door neighbor." Lupie pointed through the wall towards her house. "Becca was my babysitter," Becca gave a shy smile and a head nod "who was watching Esme, my daughter when the lockdowns hit. We all worked together, staying isolated to get through all this. When the CDC guy came, Becca and I asked Dave to request us. Jan," the lady mentioned waved her hand "was delivered the next morning to Dave's house as we were picked up to get the shot. Something bad happened at the vax center that I don't want to go in to fully at the moment, so Becca was adamant about not waiting when we arrived. Our tender loving man didn't get to be as tender with Becca's first time as he intended." "Sounds like I have a lot to catch up on later." A look of sorrow settled on Shawna. "I'm sorry to ask but where is Esme?" "Oh, she's upstairs reading. We didn't want her down here in case the conversation got a little; risqué." Lupie replied. "She's nine. According to the CDC people, she'll be safe when she reaches eleven. I didn't understand the full explanation, but the important part is she is safe and will remain safe from this thing." "Got it, so no mounting Dave on the couch." "Preferably not." Lupie's Cheshire cat grin matched Shawna's. "Then I think it's time we headed upstairs, tender loving man." In the bedroom, with the door firmly shut, Dave and Shawna stood before each other, gazing at each other's face, eyes roaming across the other's body. "Nervous?" Shawna asked. "Never been with a black woman before?" "My lifetime dance card is a little short, so yeah, still working through the nerves somewhat." Dave temporized. "And no, actually, I've never been with a black woman, but I suspect all the parts work the same." That made her laugh. "See, I can be a smart ass too. Actually, until the last week, I'd never been with a Latina, and Asian woman, or a blonde. Well, not a natural blonde. And I've dated a Latina, but it never went that far." Shawna kissed him. Dave gratefully accepted the interruption of his babbling and joined her. Lips gently merging, pressing. Slowly probing with tongues. Twirling against each other. Mutual tongue stroking turned to suckling on each other's tongue. Hands rubbed backs, pulling insistently. Her soft upper body sandwiched between them. His hands roamed to her sides, then to her bosom. Dave began unbuttoning her blouse. Shawna pulled Dave's t-shirt over his head. "Hmm, nice. Fit without being gross. I like a man that finds balance. Huh." Dave kissed Shawna's neck at the clavicle, suckling and licking. His hands finished with her buttons, he shucked her shirt over her shoulders and she shrugged to drop the shirt off. Cupping her bra-clad bosoms from below, Dave dove into Shawna's cleavage, reveling in the feel of her ample tits surrounding his face. "Yeah baby. Feast on these boobs. You lovin' the size or the taste baby? I'm different than the others in both respects." "Infinite diversity in infinite combination." Dave lifted his head to speak. He brought his hands around to the back to unclasp her lacy orange bra, but couldn't find the mechanism. He pulled his head back from her chest to focus his eyes. Shawna just chuckled as his hands came back to the front, in the center of her bra to release the imprisoned twins. Her hands roamed his back and tousled his hair as he dallied with her chest. With her bra tossed away, Dave took a nipple in his mouth and suckled. Shawna gasped and hummed appreciatively. Her hands moved down his sides, seeking his waist band. She caught hold of his shorts, hooked her fingers beneath them and his boxers, and shoved both to his ankles. One hand grasped his shaft, the other massaged his testicles. Dave groaned from the stimulation of her efforts. "Yeah baby, that's it. You and me, we're gonna give each other a lot of happy." Shawna cooed into his ear before nibbling on it. Dave switched his attention to the other nipple. One hand teased the wet nipple, while the other dropped to the waist band of her slacks. One handed, he unbuckled her belt and unsnapped her pants. He worked the zipper a few inches down one handed also, until they loosened. Then he tugged downward, revealing her lacy orange panties. Dave caught her under the curve of her rump in both hands and lifted her to his body. Shawna squeaked and then hummed her approval as he continued to nibble her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist. In two steps, he had them at the edge of the bed. Dave crawled onto his knees on the bed and brought his hands under her shoulder blades before lowering their torsos to the bed. Dave hooked his fingers through the thigh straps of Shawna's panties and slipped them from her. Her naked essence now exposed, Dave brought his face to her core and inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of an aroused woman. He pressed in, his lips and tongue investigating his new partner, caressing her most intimate area. "Hmm, baby that feels so nice, but I need you in me." Shawna tugged at Dave's head. "Dock that thing in the shuttle bay captain." Dave crawled up over top of her with a huge grin on his face. She was sloppy wet below, so he slid in easily as he moved up her body. They were instinctively in sync so that they aligned themselves without discussion or fumbling. Dave was aroused as well, of course, to the point he already had a few beads of precum at the tip of his cock. As he entered, Shawna's body stiffened, then shook. She let out a loud groan as all the air left her lungs. Dave held her until the shaking stopped. "Damn," she said when she caught her breath, "they weren't lyin'." Hunger dominated her features as a wicked smile spread over her face. She rolled them, still connected, taking the top spot. "Ride 'em cowgirl." Shawna laughed as she began rolling her hips, her body writhing sinuously with the motion. Her bounteous tits swayed rhythmically, hypnotically. Dave grasped them, curling his torso up to bring his mouth to her pec pillows and feasted greedily upon the supple flesh. Shawna moaned louder with the attention. Her hips moved faster, beginning to hop an inch or so with each swish of her hips. "Let's kick this to Warp 10 baby." Shawna braced her hands on Dave's shoulders, pushing him flat to the mattress. Using him as an anchor, she began lifting and lowering herself along his rod, riding him hard and fast. Immediately her vocalizations were louder, more primal. Dave could feel the tremors rising in her body just as his own arousal raced to the peak. Dave held off for several minutes before letting loose. As she received his load, Shawna's body shook like she had gripped a live electrical wire. Her torso collapsed on to him like a marionette with the strings cut. Dave heard her chant "Imprinting;” twice before the room started to spin and everything went black. September 29, 2020. When Dave awoke, he was alone in bed. For a moment, by the light level, he thought it had only been a few hours. Then he noticed the angle of the shadows and realized it wasn't later that afternoon, it was several hours past the following daybreak. On the plus side, he felt great. And,; something was wrong. He couldn't place it. No, was something right? It'd be easier to concentrate if Esme's giggles from the kitchen weren't punctuating his thoughts. He couldn't hear any words, but the background sounds sure made it seem like she was helping someone in the kitchen. What? How the hell could he hear them that far away? He hadn't heard that well since his early twenties. And Where The Hell Was His Tinnitus? Ho-lee shit. The high-pitched whine that filled his days and haunted his nights was gone. Shit, now it would be easier to hear women and kids again. Dave barely remembered to throw on shorts and a shirt before sprinting downstairs. He picked up Esme and spun her around. "I hear you! I hear you! All the way up in the bedroom and I could hear you!" He hugged her close. She giggled, once she realized he wasn't mad. Dave set her down and gave her a big kiss on her forehead. "You are officially my favorite stepdaughter." This apple didn't fall far from the tree. She narrowed her eyes and grinned. "I'm un-officially your only stepdaughter." "Still my favorite." He said, his voice receding with him. Dave went upstairs to his office. He had a Zoom call to make that he'd been putting off. "Hi, Uncle Dave." The deep brown eyes, framed by pale skin and equally brown hair of Olivia Barnes stared back at Dave from the screen. Her father's hawkish features softened by the influence of her mother's rounder ones. Except the skin around her eyes was reddened, and somewhat puffy. Dave feared he knew why his goddaughter had been crying. It had been more than a month since he'd heard from his best friends, Carter and Janelle Barnes. "Hey Livy Bean." Maybe his longtime nickname for her would be comforting, of a sort. She did brighten slightly. Like a slightly less dim twilight. "Sorry I haven't called in a while. Things have been changing a bit around here." "Oh, that's fine." She couldn't have sounded more like Eeyore if she tried. "I just; " Olivia was cut short by the playful screech of Esme rocketing into the room, obviously being pursued. She hid behind Dave's chair as Becca entered. "Hey, you two, settle down, I'm on a Zoom call." "Oh, sorry." Both said. "Dave?! What the hell are people doing in your house! Why aren't you quarantining!?" "Yeah, that's part of the busy." Dave looked to Becca and Esme, starting to leave. "Don't go just yet. I should introduce you. Liv, this is Esme, she's the daughter of Lupie, my next door neighbor. Becca was Esme's babysitter doing a long-term babysit when the lockdowns started. We quarantined in separate houses, but worked together to make sure we each had what we needed." They each waved as their names were mentioned. "I recognize the names from earlier conversations. So how are they in your house now Dave?" Energized by questions that needed answering, Olivia strangely seemed more alert than at the beginning of the call. Dave shooed Esme out, Becca following after her and shutting the door. "About two weeks ago now, a guy came to my door, telling me they had a vaccine for this virus. But it has some weird effects." "What kind of weird effects?" Olivia's redheaded roommate Melanie Ustanich popped her head into view. "Well, they can't give the vaccine to men at all. At least not directly." This is not the way he had intended this conversation to go, but here they were. "Women can take the vaccine, and then; transmit the immunity to a man." "How?" Melanie asked with a scowl. "Oh boy. That's were this gets surreal." Dave temporized. "Giving the vaccine directly to a man is 100% fatal. But, a woman can share her immunity with a man directly, through, um,; intercourse." "Okay, I'm calling bullshit." Melanie huffed out of frame. By her footstep sounds, she left the room Olivia was transmitting from. "That's crazy Uncle Dave." "Yeah, that's what I said. But then I red all the documentation, I took the survey. And I have four partners." "Four?" "The effects of the vaccine only partially transmit to the man, and have to be reinforced by frequent; contact. In order to keep a man; safe; he should have multiple partners." Dave winced. "Last I heard, the ultimate goal is twelve to fifteen women per man. And it's permanent. Once a woman gets the vaccine and; sleeps with a man, sleeping with any other man would be dangerous, even fatal." Dave paused while Olivia absorbed what he'd just said. "It's for a lifetime, Liv. Look, if you know someone you think you can make it work long-term with, you should find him and talk to him. The people doing the vaccination should be getting out to Stephenville in another week or so. Maybe you can find someone suitable by then." Dave squirmed in his seat. "I don't have to look anywhere Dave. I know who I'd want to bond with for the rest of my life. The same man I've yearned for; for years." "Good, you should call him immediately. And tell your roommate to think about who she'd want to partner with. And she might want to consider the same guy." With a small smirk Liv replied. "Not a bad idea. This guy likes redheads. But he has a blind spot though. Has trouble noticing when women like him. Especially younger women. He keeps passing it off as infatuation. 'Just a crush'." "Well maybe you need to; " Dave stopped with his mouth hanging open, frozen. He had to remind himself to blink. "Dave, you ok? Do I need to turn you off, then turn you back on?" The sarcasm snapped him out of it. "Very funny Liv." He gathered his thoughts, or tried to. They kept scattering like cats at bath time. "I'm more than twice your age Olivia. I changed your diapers for god's sake! I helped raise you. You came to me when you were afraid to talk to your parents. Biologically it's not incest, but damn." "It's not the same David! Please; " a knock at the door interrupted them. Shawna slipped in. "Is everything okay in here?" She brought herself into the camera's field of view. "Uh, hi. I'm Olivia, David's goddaughter. Who are you?" "I'm his newest partner. I just imprinted yesterday." Shawna settled gently on Dave's thigh, keeping part of her weight on her feet. "Imprinted?" "That's what they call the binding process that happens when the vaccine serum mixes with a man's semen inside a woman's body." "Huh." Olivia looked pensive. Melanie had come back into view. Presumably, she'd been in hearing range for a minute or so. Olivia squinted at the screen, as if trying to pick out an important detail. "Anyone ever tell you that you look like the weather lady on channel 8?" "It's been known to happen." Shawna said coyly. "You may have noticed I wasn't on the air last night. And I won't be for two more nights. Vaccination leave. Some places give longer, but there's only so much staff at the station these days. I couldn't drop that much load on the rest of the weather room staff." "Oh wow. Wow. Just. Okay. This is a lot all at once." Behind Olivia, Melanie typed furiously on her phone. When the site she searched for came up she held the phone out, as if beside Olivia's laptop screen, her eyes scanning back and forth between the two. "No fucking way. Your uncle is banging the channel 8 weather chick?" Shawna's eyes narrowed. "I have a master's degree in meteorology. I have five years' experience storm chasing, another four years' experience at NSSL, and six years' experience at the station. I am a scientist as well as a broadcaster. I am not a weather chick. Hell, I have three scientific papers as the PI." Melanie looked cowed. "I'm sorry. I got a little caught up in the moment. You're right that was out of line." She paused. "Wait, you're a detective too? How does that work?" "No," Shawna said with a hand to the bridge of her nose, "PI is principal investigator; it's the polite term on a scientific team for the HMFC; head motherfucker in charge." Dave stroked her thigh, keeping his face blank. He wasn't going to laugh at her phrasing, nor admonish her harshness. "Yeah, now I need to dial it back. Sorry girls." "Don't. It's fine. Kinda funny actually." Melanie's face began receding from its earlier attempt to match her hair color. "I apologize for being brusque, but can we get back to the topic at hand?" Olivia pleaded. "David, have you ever noticed or wondered why all my relationships never lasted longer than three months?" "I just figured they weren't good enough for you." "Well, you're not wrong there. I measured them; all of them; against you and they came up wanting." "I would have thought a better comparison would be your dad. I mean, let's face it, he's a much more manly guy than me." Dave hoped he'd kept the bitter tone out of his voice. No one showed any hint it registered with them. "I never wanted to fuck dad." Olivia stared at him like she could bore holes in the screen. "Damn girl." Shawna chuckled. Melanie turned her head to Liv with her eyes wide. "When I first heard about how babies were really made and what those parts of me were for, I thought about doing that with you. When I started feeling the desire to have sex, you were the one I wanted to be with. All of you said it was just a girlish crush. I tried dating other guys. I threw myself into relationships with, nice guys, good men, but none of them were you." She paused to catch her breath. Her argument was turning into an emotional plea. "I can't give you my virginity David, but I can give you all of me forever." "Olivia, I; I just; " "David, how about you let us girls talk for a bit. After all, she's been an important part of your life for many years. I'm your brand new partner. I'm sure she has some juicy stories to tell." Shawna winked at the screen. Dave nodded and left. Dave spent some time in the greenhouse, tending the plants and 'smelling the green'. A few grow beds had separated at the corner so he repaired them. He checked the time to find it had been almost two hours since he'd left Shawna on the Zoom call with Olivia. He went back in to discover the ladies all gathered in the library. They shooed him out the moment he opened the door. "Yeah, they wouldn't let me in either. I finished my last book and wanted a new one, but they have some important discussion going on, so here I sit, rotting my brain with TV," Esme said, with air quotes for emphasis. "You could always choose a documentary instead of anime." "You could always eat a tofu burger instead of red meat." Esme giggled. "Blasphemy." Dave said, ascending the stairs. That brought a full chuckle from his nine-year old housemate. Dave sat at his computer, working out a reasonable set of instructions for a physics lab students could do from home, with materials they already had. It was maddening to think they'd gotten a sizable grant only two years ago for some great equipment, which would now sit unused in a storeroom because everything was moving online. His focus was broken by Esme's voice. "Hey Dave, they're in the living room waiting for you. I'll be reading in my room." "Thank you, my sweet Esmeralda." Esme rolled her eyes, but accepted the hug. Entering the living room, Dave found all four of his partners smiling, but serious. In just a moment's read of the resolve written there, he knew which way this was going to go. Huh. Maybe he was getting better at this. He chose a seat that could easily view everyone else's and lowered himself. Then he realized, they probably chose their spots so he'd be in this spot. "So, what's up?" Lupie spoke up. "We think you should accept Olivia, David. Her roommate Melanie is interested, and we think you should accept her as well." "I spoke with both of them for about an hour and a half, David." Shawna added. "Olivia's earnest in her feelings for you. I work beside media types, onscreen talent and production executives. I have a good feel for when someone's bs ing me. If Olivia isn't in love with you, she's very close to that. My bet is, she madly in love with you. She'd be unhappy anywhere else." Dave stared at Shawna. That last bit hit home. Olivia's happiness meant a lot to him. He suspected that last sentence was calculated, not just a lucky shot. He swallowed once and looked away. "You don't understand. I've known this girl since before she was born. I changed her diapers. She's stayed over at my house. I helped her understand boys as she got older. I've watched over her while camping or at the pool. Hell, I've seen her in bikinis since the time she started developing tits and I've never allowed myself to think of her in; lascivious terms." "Do you think she's pretty?" Jan prompted. "Absolutely. She's as lovely as her mother." A very quiet ripple ran through the room. Dave realized he'd left an opening for another tale. One he did not want to get into. "And that's just the wrapping paper. She's got a hell of a lot more than her looks going for her." All the ladies grinned. "David, do you hear yourself?" Lupie prodded. "Not just what you've said, but how you say it?" "Yes, she is dear to me. I'd do anything for her." "Then do the one thing she needs you to do right now. Love her as a woman. Allow your love for her to grow to encompass the physical." Dave breathed heavily. A whole host of emotions welled up within him. "I held her in my hands; hand; when she was only a few hours old. I cleaned her boo-boos when she fell off her bike." He chuckled through tears. "You've given her unconditional love her whole life, David. Is it any wonder she fell in love with you?" "I just worry I'd be betraying their trust." "Who?" Shawna asked. "Carter and Janelle. Livy's parents." "So ask them." Shawna suggested. Dave replied with a pained expression. "I haven't heard from them in over a month. And when we started the Zoom call, Olivia's eyes were red and puffy." A sobering silence held the room in its grasp. "David, wouldn't that mean you're all she's got left?" Lupie asked tenderly. "Yes." Dave sighed. Well, he did know walking in how this would go. "Okay. Okay. I'll contact the vax center and see what it takes to put in a request." "And you need to include Melanie, Olivia's roommate in the request." Shawna added. "I know nothing about her." "We took the time to talk. Olivia told her enough about you she said she would be willing." "That's an awfully thin data set for a life altering decision that you can't take back!" Dave objected. "David," Lupie said in her most soothing tone, "when you requested Becca and me, we still got a sheet of information about you, our match percentage in Oracle, and the chance to say no. If we said no, we'd be given a list of ten other men with their data and match percentages." "This is a lot to take in." Dave paused. "You said a bio and a match percentage?" "Yes." "And she can refuse?" "Yes. "Okay. Hell, I like redheads anyway." Dave smirked. "And she's doing something in computers. That could be very handy. And if she can share a small off-campus house with Livy, she's probably reasonably compatible anyway." "So we're resolved on this?" Becca asked. She'd been quiet during most of the conversation, although she nodded in agreement with some of the points made by the other women. "Yes, Becca, I'll request both of them. I'll call them tomorrow to confirm, then I'll call the vax center." "David, when we finished the call today, I made sure to get a clear answer from each of them." Shawna said. "Go ahead and call the vax center first, then call them to let them know the request is in." Dave stared at her for a moment. "On something like this, I want to ask them myself. Hell, there's a chance with a night to think it over, they may have decided this is a bad idea. But I will call them a second time after I call the vax center." Becca "Um, Dave, so, a friend of mine from school has been talking to me." October 3, 2020. When Dave opened the door he was greeted by an enthusiastic "Woof!" and two paws immediately planted on his chest. "Roscoe!" Dave rubbed the large Rottweiler's flanks and dipped his head to kiss Roscoe's forehead, then quickly back to dodge the dog's tongue. "Oh look, you brought Livy and her roommate with you. Good boy." Dave signed the form, thanked the soldier, and led the ladies and Roscoe into the living room where most of the house waited. Roscoe spotted Esme and bolted to her. She let out a squeak, then giggled as he licked her face. "Roscoe, down! Heel!" The happy canine trotted back to sit beside Olivia's feet as she sat on one end of the couch. "He sure is friendly. I thought Rotts are supposed to be mean, like guard dogs." Becca said. "If you train 'em mean, or abuse 'em sure. Or if they are seriously inbred. You treat 'em like family they will love on you like nobody's business. And rip the head off anyone that hurts the family. So, Esme, you play with Roscoe anytime you want. He'll love it. He's great with kids." Lupie grinned appreciatively at Livy's suggestion. She'd clearly understood Livy's implied meaning of acclimating Roscoe to see Esme as family for the purpose of defending her. "Yeah, when we go to the park for walks, it can be a real job to keep him from running and frolicking with the kiddos." Melanie chimed in. "So where's Shawna?" Liv asked. "Work. Her new partner leave was up. She has the five and six o'clock broadcast, so she won't be back until this evening." "And she's the only one Mel and I have met, so to speak." Liv said dryly. Her big toothy grin capturing attention of everyone. "Although, I've heard bits and pieces about Lupie and Esme over the past few years." Olivia introduced herself, telling everyone she had been a junior studying horticulture at Tarleton State University when lockdowns started. She's into shooting and hunting, and lots of outdoor activities. Becca looked pensive. "Oh, but don't worry," Liv assured her, "I'm usually down for group games and such. I take it your more of an indoor person?" "Mostly. I mean, I like going to the pool, and sometimes the park." Becca's spoke in soft tones. "Great. You show me some games you like, and I'll show you how fun hiking and camping can be. Maybe even teach you how to shoot." "You can do that? I mean, teach me?" "Liv manages to hit the target once in a while." Dave chuckled. "Hey, I'm a better shot than you! I've taken a deer, first shot, every season I've gone out." "I was teasing Liv." Dave temporized. "I'm still working to wrap my head around; this." "Well for me this is the realization of a dream I couldn't let go of and didn't think I'd get." The room fell quiet for a moment. "Oh, one thing about Roscoe, I almost forgot. He has some hearing loss. He's still got some hearing and a great sense of smell, so he won't get jittery when surprised as long as there aren't any unfamiliar scents." "So give him time to sniff us and adjust for a few days before walking up behind him?" Jan smiled. "Sure. That would work. And if he does get spooked, just hold still and let him sniff. By the end of today, he might not register everyone here as family, but he will understand you're all accepted by Dave and me." Another moment of quiet, and all eyes turned to Melanie. "Oh, hi. I'm Melanie Ustanich. I'm Olivia's roommate. I was a senior last year at Tarleton. I'm working on a four plus one degree in cybersecurity and network administration." Melanie's green eyes and hair balanced between coopery and auburn accented the face set in a perpetual impish smile to tell of the Irish part of her ancestry. "Four plus one?" Becca asked. "It means I began working on my master's while I was still an undergraduate. Instead of four years for a bachelor's and then two or three years for a master's, I get both done in five years." "Oh cool." "It should have helped me get into the workforce faster with less student loan debt." Melanie rolled her eyes. "I think we're going to find the financial sector changes a lot with what's going on." Lupie supplied. "Hi, I'm Lupie, Dave's neighbor; well used to be. I also used to be an investment advisor until our firm shutdown." "Oh wow. So like stocks and bonds and shit?" Lupie nodded in reply. "Do any day trading?" "Yeah, it's been handy. The market tanked, but if you know what you're doing you can still manage something positive out of it." "Good to know. And thanks about the loan info. That's something I've been worrying about. Not in school means I have to start paying my loans, but I have no job so I can't, and there's no one answering the phone lines to set up a deferment." "I thought President Pelosi suspended all debt payments and interest accrual until Congress could get together and pass something permanent." "I wish." "I'll check into that later today. You shouldn't have to worry about debts in all this mess." "Thank you, that would be a huge relief if true." "So, Tarleton isn't holding any classes?" Jan asked. "Not this semester. They said they might hold some online classes in the spring, but wouldn't commit to it. They emptied the dorms too, but Liv and I had an off-campus apartment and a trickle of income to cover the basics. We still cut into some savings. The landlord was happy to still have some income, so she cut our rent in half since; May? June?" "June." "Yeah, so that helped." Everyone talked a bit about interests, hobbies, and happenings but eventually the suitcases loomed large and we decided it was time to get Olivia and Melanie's things put away in a dresser like they lived here. They each carried their own up the stairs, only using the roller wheels as they got to the upstairs hallway. "What happened here? Why is the wall patched? Dave?" Olivia curious expression evaporated when she looked at Dave. His face twisted in pain. His heart exploded with repressed mourning. "Eddie." That one word, spoken in anguish, struck Olivia like a poleax. She fell towards Dave in faltering steps as he thumped backwards against the wall and slid down, coming to rest in a wailing mess, his precious Livy Bean clinging to him, sobbing her heart out. Janice looked bewildered. Melanie furrowed her brow. "Liv has a friend named Eddie. They even tried dating, but decided to just stay friends. Really good friends." Lupie came flying up the stairs, having heard the heart-rending cry from below. "What happened?" Melanie and Jan both shrugged, trying to catch up still. "We don't know," Janice replied, "Olivia asked why the wall had been patched. Dave looked like his heart was being ripped out and said 'Eddie' and collapsed. Olivia collapsed with him." Lupie's eyes watered and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, David." She squatted beside the weeping pair and placed a hand on Dave's shoulder. The other three looked at each other, mildly frustrated. More mourning and no explanation. Lupie glanced up at the confused trio. "Eddie is David's son." Chapter 5: Healing Begins. October 3, 2020. House Belsus was in mourning. Lupie and Jan got an arm under Dave's armpits and lifted him up, guiding him to the bedroom once he got his feet under him. Becca and Melanie did the same for Olivia. Together, the quartet removed the shoes and socks of the weeping pair and draped a blanket over them. Roscoe trailed behind the troupe, whimpering and trying desperately to get in close to Olivia. He planted himself firmly against her in the bed once she was positioned. The pent-up pain manifested itself in force. Edward, Carter, Janelle. Three faces Dave and Livy would never see again. Three laughs they would never hear again. Three hearts they would never touch or be touched by again. It was just too much to hold in any longer. As he wept, Dave could hear a rustling sound off to the side of the room. He knew one of the women of the household was sitting there, ready if he or Livy needed anything. It was one small reassurance as images of a happy little towheaded boy played through his mind. The boy he barely got to see after the divorce. More images of the angry young man, full of his mother's twisted commentary, coming to him, beginning to realize he may have been lied to. That may be the most painful memory. After years of trying to be a dad, and being rebuffed, his boy had sought him out. They'd rebuilt slowly from there, starting on Edward's fifteenth birthday. Eight years. Eight years he'd had with his son as he grew from his mid-teens into a young, twenty-three year old man. A damn good man. And now he was gone. A memory, frozen in time. Forever young, static and unchanging. Never to find love. Never getting to be a father himself. Eddie would have been a great dad. No more Carter either. His friend from college. The man that taught him the value of being prepared. Guided him to take a martial arts class. Taught him how to use a gun. Taken him hunting and fishing. Without that time with Carter, he never would have been able to take Eddie fishing in those early years before his ex began denying visitation. And sweet Janelle. That lovely face seemed so soft. Most would think she'd never keep up with Carter's active outdoorsy life. They were wrong. She would much rather do nearly anything in the city or suburbs, but the guy she'd fallen for was an avid hiker and camper. She took to it with a borrowed passion that never relented. Janelle did everything with so much energy you'd think she could power a city with her smile and peppy personality. She managed to stay just this side of sickening bubbly though. Thanks to his newly healed hearing, Dave picked up the telltale sounds of two people working in the kitchen. Dinner? How long had he lain here, whimpering like a little bitch? It was time to get up. Dave tightened his hug on Olivia briefly, then released her and went to the bathroom to wash up and take care of needs. And wash from the elbows down. Roscoe had taken to nuzzling and licking his hands and arms in an attempt to soothe. When he returned, Lupie sat on the bed speaking soothingly to a quiet Olivia. Roscoe's head briefly turned from Olivia to give Dave a baleful look as he re-entered the room. A quick whisper brought Olivia's head up and around, rolling slightly to see Dave. She sat up and rose shakily to meet him. He hugged her again, and they each steadied themselves to stave off another crying jag. Liv slipped around Dave to enter the bathroom. Lupie met him where he stood. She placed her arms loosely around his neck, bringing their foreheads together. "I love you, David. I wish you had shared this with me earlier, but I understand why it hurt too much to address." She kissed him softly on the chin, then looked into his eyes. "I'm here for you David. Even if all you can handle is a hug, I'm here for you." She hugged him tightly. Olivia emerged, her face cleansed of tear streaks and make up. She chose not to apply new makeup. Why bother when she's liable to start crying again? Her loose black blouse and the large ruffle attached to the neck showed creases and wrinkles from lying in bed. Her work-style jeans showed no such effects, having been made to take more punishment than lying in bed could dish out. As they passed Esme's room enroute to the stairs, they heard a shout of "Dave!" just before 80 pounds of love bug smacked into the man so named and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Esme had met Eddie a few times, had a few memories of him. More than that, she wanted to console Dave in his grief. He was a figure in her young life and he was hurting. The outpouring was almost enough to set Dave off crying again, but he choked it back. Lupie gave Esme a short time to show her support, then shooed her back to her room with a hug and a kiss. "Did you get something to eat mija?" "Yes, mama. And I have a few good books in my room. I'm good for awhile." The trio continued to the stairs and emerged into the living room. Becca sat on the couch fidgeting, not really watching an anime. When she looked up, she immediately rushed to Dave and hugged him fiercely. Their height difference left her cheek bone pressed against the top of his sternum, the top of her head nestled under his chin. Dave stroked her back softly. "All those times you comforted me about my family, and you never once mentioned Eddie was gone?" She said as she pulled her head back, looking up into his eyes. Her arms remained firmly encircled around his chest, not budging a millimeter. "If I wasn't hurting for you so much, I'd be peeved at you." "Wow, didn't take you long to start talking like a wife." "Better believe it buster." "Yes dear." Her eyes laughed as she pulled him down for a comforting kiss. Their eyes stayed locked for a moment after they broke the kiss. Shawna, Janice, and Melanie slipped in from the dining room after each dropped off an item from the kitchen. Shawna still wore her on-air clothes. Today it was a stylish, breezy blouse in a vibrant shade of orange that contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. A long, loose, tan skirt below it reached to mid-calf at its lowest point, the bottom cut at an angle that exposed her right knee when she walked. She typically wore short heels at work, but had already ditched them somewhere downstairs, her feet bare but for her sheer pantyhose. Without her heels, she was barely an inch shorter than Dave, the tallest among his household. She came straight to him and wrapped him up in a warm hug. In his ear she whispered, "Anytime you need me baby, whatever it is you need, just tell me." Dave nodded and she peeled away. Jan came to him next, gently leading Mel along with her. Jan gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, her eyes conveying her sorrow and support as eloquently as words or a hug. "I knew you may not be hungry David, but if you are so inclined, I asked Mel to make bruschetta for the grazing meal we've prepared." A week or so ago, Jan's culinary journey had turned to a discussion of favorite appetizers and finger foods. Dave's number one favorite was bruschetta. "Hey now, I just made the olive tapenade and the tomato topping, you assembled it, including toasting the bread." Melanie took Dave by the hand and led him to the table decked out with several offerings, from of course, bruschetta, to deviled eggs, pigs in blankets, and a charcuterie board assembled from things Dave knew they'd had on hand this morning. Except for the bowl of fresh rolls beside it. The aroma of fresh bread permeated the air. "It looks and smells wonderful. Thank you." He gave them each a soft kiss on the cheek. He stepped back to the living room. "Shawna, I take it you are also partly to thank for tonight's spread?" "Oh, they were well along in the making when I got in from work. I just slapped some canned dough around some smokies and baked 'em." He kissed the top of her head and hugged her from behind as she sat in one of the soft chairs. "Thank you." She patted his arm lightly before he pulled away. Not hungry, but wanting to show appreciation for Jan's thoughtfulness, Dave went back to the table and snagged a piece of bruschetta before returning to the living room. The only empty spot was on the couch, with Becca on one side, Olivia on the other and Mel between the arm and Olivia. Dave settled in before taking a bite. "Oh, wow. This is great ladies." Dave said after savoring for a moment. "And Jan, before you try to turn all of it aside to Mel, proper presentation is important. Besides, the toast is perfect. Just the right amount of olive oil, nicely crisp with just a little give. Those are important parts of getting bruschetta right. And; I really appreciate the thought and the effort." "Thank you," Jan beamed. The others took turns getting plates in pairs while everyone engaged in chit chat. To be continued in part 4, Based on a post by RonanJWilkerson, in 12 parts, for Literotica.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Elf on a Shelf: Part 1 Her stalker wasn't who she thought he was; Based on a post by LingeringAfterthought, in 3 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Honey smiled at the long line of children waiting to see Santa, flipping her phone from Google Translate back to see the information of the next little girl in line, who was looking up at her somberly with large liquid brown eyes. In her small face was a familiar mixture of fear and hope. Wonder; it was wonder in her eyes, Honey thought. Unlike the tired and jaded adults, dutifully shifting their weight from foot to foot, holding overstuffed shopping bags and all the coats of their kids as they distracted themselves on their phones, the children got more and more excited as they drew near the man in the furry red suit with white trim. Honey loved working with the children; because like them, she sometimes could still see the magic. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman shift uncomfortably in the painted plywood throne made for him to sit with the children and discuss their good behavior and of the wishes that they hoped would come true. Even at age 62, Norman still saw the magic with his merry bright blue eyes, but it faded when his prostate pained him. When the photographer got the shot the parent wanted, Honey walked to where most of the long line could see her as Norman flashed her a look of worshipful gratitude. The adults' faces immediately fell, knowing what was coming. "I'm afraid Santa needs to take a quick break because apparently the reindeer have begun arguing again!" Norman put his gloved hands up to his real beard, pulled a comically dismayed face, jumped up from his throne, and ran off toward the restrooms. Honey shook her head mournfully and continued, "The reindeer were all practicing their Christmas carols when Comet and Cupid couldn't decide how many times Santa checks his list in Santa Claus is Coming to Town! Does anyone here remember how it goes?" she asked, scanning the line for people game enough to help. Honey scampered back and forth along the line trying to choose among the eager volunteers, her white-trimmed, pink fur skirt flaring out around her thighs, her long legs clad in sparkly curly-toed ruby slippers and candy cane swirl stockings catching the eyes of several fathers. Suddenly, she gasped listening carefully to her headset, "Nina?" she called out. "Comet and Cupid say they will only stop arguing if 'Nina' gives the answer. Is there a 'Nina' here today? Nina?" Honey looked around at the crowd carefully until the little girl with the big brown eyes, who had been quietly waiting 57 minutes in line, gathered the courage to raise her hand. "Oh! Are you Nina?" she asked, running over and crouching down near the girl. "We just adopted her; she only speaks Portuguese," the weary woman holding her hand said quietly. Honey gasped and smiled widely, "Voc fala portugu s Nina? Maravilhosa!" she said, watching the little girl's eyes brighten excitedly. "Voc pode me dizer quantas vezes o Papai Noel verifica sua lista?" she asked, holding her microphone out to the little girl. "Duas vezes!" Nina said confidently into the mic. Honey listened carefully to her headset, concentrating, "'Duas vezes' it is! They've stopped arguing!" she announced. "But now, they want us all to sing the song in Portuguese! Nina, voc vai me ajudar a ensin -los a m sica?" she asked. Nina nodded and slowly she and Honey taught the familiar song to the crowd in a new language. As always, a hush came on the crowd when Honey began to sing. Heads raised up from forgotten phones. Vague smiles drifted onto the turning heads of passers-by in the mall as they paused in their frenetic search for gifts. It wasn't so much that Honey's voice was beautiful, though it certainly was. It was more that when Honey sang, it seemed to make the things that didn't really matter melt away. To those that believed in such things, Honey's voice was magic. When she sang, people held their breath and didn't even miss the air. Honey closed her eyes as she sang next to Nina. It was a newly acquired habit. Though she had been taught to let her eyes slowly drift over the audience, letting them make a connection with each person as she sang, she didn't do that anymore. She knew he was out there. She felt his presence frequently as she worked, but it was only when she sang that he came out into the open. She couldn't hold her voice steady when she saw him watching her, so she closed her eyes and let the magic continue for the crowd. When the song ended, Honey opened her eyes as the crowd cheered, finding his powerful form immediately as if she had been commanded to look at him. Zach. He had changed a lot in the year since he brought his sister's children through the long Santa line, drawing her almost too-large dark blue eyes to him then, as easily as he did now. After bringing his nieces and nephews through the line, he'd gone home and brought all his neighbors' kids to see Santa in five more trips, watching her the entire time. He looked at her as if he'd never seen anything like her in the world, like he couldn't believe she was real. She had loved feeling his eyes on her then, hearing his voice. She had wanted to climb up in his lap, feel his large arms curled around her, whisper to him about how good she had been that year, and of how much she hoped he would make her wishes come true. Of course, all that was before he'd told her he wanted to kill her. Zach's face looked leaner now, though his body seemed even larger, if such a thing was possible. His brooding, deep-set eyes were not merry, as they had been when children climbed his tree-like body in her line last year. They weren't nervously soft and adoring of every part of her, as they had been at their candle-lit dinner. His eyes weren't rageful or insane as you might expect from someone visiting their object of murderous hate, but rather; they were tortured, trapped. Pain and quiet desperation had taken up restless residence in the windows to his soul. Honey knew she shouldn't look at him so much, but she just wished she could understand what she had done wrong. Once the line of children and parents had cleared, it was long past the official closing time. Honey cleaned up the display and prepared it for the next day while Norman took one last lingering trip to the restroom. Her phone showed numerous messages from work friends from her other job asking where she was. The firm had planned a Christmas party at Gatsby's, a gorgeous club worthy of F. Scott Fitzgerald's glamorous hero. It was also the place where Zach had taken her on their first and last date. The Gatsby's waiter had looked stunned and confused when she shakily ordered herself an "angel shot," the code-phrase used to quietly ask bartenders or wait staff for help when you felt threatened, but after his initial shock, the waiter immediately escorted her secretly to a taxi waiting outside before Zach returned to the table. Gatsby's had saved her life; but she didn't want to go back there. After avoiding call after call from Zach, she finally answered and politely asked him never to call her again. To her surprise, he didn't. He never spoke to her again. Unless she sang, she never even saw him, but she felt his presence almost everywhere. It felt like she was haunted by him; haunted by something wonderful and magical that, inexplicably, went horribly wrong. Her phone buzzed again, the display showing that the firm's senior partner wanted to FaceTime her. Steeling herself, she answered. "Honey Lane where in the hell; oh my god lookit you!" Aaron Timberman held the phone high above his head with his long ex-basketball-player arms and Honey saw a crowd of her co-workers crowd into the picture behind him. "Um, hi sir. Sorry I'm late to;" "You're an elf!" "Um, yeah. It's a volunteer thing;" "Wait, wait, wait; you have the shoes? You know, with the; toes?" he slurred, motioning his finger in a spiral motion. Honey bit her lips and tilted the camera down her body, showing her entire costume, tilting her foot to show off the curled toe. "I'm sorry it got late tonight, but I'll be there as soon as I can get home and get changed;" Timberman looked around at the crowd surrounding him, "Guys, do we wanna see Honey Lane here at the party in some boring old Anne Klein shit, or do we want the elf?" he yelled, pointing at the screen. Behind him, almost a dozen of her co-workers began chanting "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf!" "Get yer ass over here, Elf," Timberman ordered, poking at his screen several times before effectively ending the call. A few minutes later, Norman finally came back from the restroom and gave Honey a ride over to Gatsby's in his red SUV bedecked with a bumper sticker that read, "My other car's a SLEIGH!" Honey hopped out after getting bits of advice from Norman that would have been appropriate several decades ago. With flaming cheeks, she brushed the furry white pompom from her hat out of her face and told the smirking ma tre d which party she wanted, sighing when he grinned widely and escorted her through the middle of the main dining area, much to her horror. When the doors to the party room opened and she was greeted by another round of "Elf, Elf, Elf, Elf," she didn't feel much better. She was starving, so she headed over to the buffet and began loading up a plate with delicious-looking things on ice in shot glasses, impaled on sticks, or immersed in flames. She just spied a quiet table in a dark corner and was winding her way toward it to it to scarf down her only food since breakfast before she could be drawn into a drunken debate. That was the plan, anyway. "Hunnybaby! Lookit you! C'mon we gotta dance!" Lee James slurred to her fur-trimmed tits. With a sigh, she smiled and laid her plate down on a nearby table, promising to herself that she would eat right after enduring a dance with the favored junior partner. Unfortunately, after Lee angled her awkwardly around the dance floor, they'd drawn so much attention that everyone wanted to get pics of themselves toasting and dancing with the Christmas elf. At some point, she found herself in Timberman's arms with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Um; what?" she said, almost asking herself how she had gotten there. "I said you look lovely, tonight, Honey. Much better than in a shawl and sheath dress," he said, quickly twirling her around as they reached the edge of the dance floor. "Twirling makes my skirt go up; I'm dizzy," she murmured. A familiar dark figure flashed in the background and disappeared as Timberman turned her again. She looked around, trying to find the figure again, but she couldn't see him anywhere. Why was he there? Had she been singing again? "Well, I'll make sure nobody twirls you, my dear," he said, twirling her and smiling as her skirt flew up her long candy-cane striped legs. "The wives wouldn't like it." "I like your wife's dress Mr. Timberman; looks warm. It covers her ass when she sits, too," she slurred, frowning in confusion at the dark red drink in her hand now. Zach was frowning, and then he just looked blurry again as she swirled around. Maybe swirling made it harder for him to kill her. Why did he want to kill her? It just wasn't fair. Timberman leaned down and dipped her, "I'll make sure to give her your compliments. You know, if you like what wives wear, you should consider getting married. Lee is quite taken with you, you know," he said, stroking his hand against the soft pink velvet of her dress. Honey found herself drifting away and wandering inside her head again, thinking about Lee; he was handsome in an overly-polished way, said funny things, but they always sounded a little mean, like he wanted to be the only one laughing; and he also took her away from the food plate that just floated by on a table. It was still full. She should have eaten that food. What time was it? "He likes my boobs; and he doesn't want to kill me," she agreed eventually, surprised to find that Timberman was gone and she was dancing with Lee James again. "Well, I can't blame him for that; they're fucking perfect; just like everything else. I'm gonna come on them after you suck me off; he murmured, pulling her closer against him. "Let me take you home, Honey; penthouse view of the city; "Umm; no, that's not home; I live in the; railroad place; with the trains?" Honey explained, pointing in what she thought was the direction of the Lowertown Commons. Why did every guy think she lived with them tonight? "Sounds charming, Eliza Doolittle; you should trade up. You don't know how much I'd love twist your arms back and fuck this ass wide open over my balcony tonight," he said, reaching his hand under her skirt and greedily squeezing her bottom. "You'd like that, wouldn't you Honey? I can tell; Lee whispered, his cologne invading her head and making her queasy. "I feel sick; Honey whimpered and staggered away, trying to find the quiet table where the food was that would make her less drunk. The dance floor was confusing, though, always turning around and thumping and flashing. She leaned against a pillar until she got a better sense of where she was. She liked the pillar. It was big and strong; and it stroked her hair. "Honey; wake up, Honey. Open your mouth. You need to take these," the vaguely familiar voice said, cutting through the sleep that had been blocking out some of the pain she felt everywhere. She obediently opened her mouth and the hand put two caplets on her tongue. A water bottle squirted a little cool liquid into her mouth until she moaned and sucked harder, desperate for more. "Not too much. Wait until you can hold that down. I'll give you more in a bit. You don't want that IV back, do you?" "Nuh" Honey groaned. She hated needles. Sure, just about every part of her body hurt more than a needle did, right now, but somehow needle pain felt personal. Like with Zach. He didn't seem like someone who went around wanting to choke everybody; just her. She was nobody special; just a simple girl who kept lawyers organized and tried to be nice. Then, someone wonderful like Zach thought she needed to die. That hurt. Something about her made him go from being tender and intensely loving to someone who; it just didn't make sense. What did she do? Mercifully, sleep faded the pain and clouded her thoughts. Voices below her intruded into a wonderful dream where she was bouncing on clouds. Though not in the same room, the voices seemed strangely clear. "I can't; Terry, she cries when I do that," the pills voice said, making her eyes fly open. She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it for a year, but she would never forget it. Her body reacted with a confused mix of emotions, her cheeks flushing and adrenaline searing a path all through her at the same time. "That's because it hurts her. You know what hurts more? Bedsores. Man up. Use the pillows to prop her weight against the parts that aren't hurt on whichever side. It's either this, or she goes back to the hospital, and I have it on good authority you won't be allowed to visit after what happened." "She was screaming; Zach gritted. "Yeah, well they were putting her shoulder back in. People scream. That still doesn't excuse what you did. Since when did you become such a pussy about pain?" Terry asked. "since her." "oh my god." "Shut up," Zach grunted. "Oh my god; "Yeah, that's not shutting up." "The great Z-dog has been taken down;" "Shut up, maggot, it's not like that. I'm just taking care of h;" "By a little bitty pink Christmas elf; Terry laughed. There was a scuffling sound and then a loud whoomp and a forceful exhalation of air. "So, I turn her every few hours until she can do it for herself?" Zach asked, casually. "Yes, sir," Terry choked. "Anything else?" "Clear liquids until she can hold stuff down. Talk to her. Ask her questions. If she seems disoriented or part of her face goes slack, she goes back to the hospital. Don't fuck around." "Got it. Are you squared away, or do we need to discuss this further?" "Squared away, sir," Terry choked, then gasped in relief, panting faintly. "Jesus Christ, you haven't lost your touch. We on for the hump tomorrow at 0 500?" "No. I'm gonna stick close here until she's;" "Got it. Hey, maybe they have those Baby Bjorn things in elf-size. Then, you could just strap her onto your ba; ow! ow! ow, ow, ow!" "You weren't particularly attached to the rest of that sentence, were you, maggot?" Zach growled. "Sir, no sir; Terry squeaked. "I didn't think so. You'll be back here Wednesday," Zach stated, more as an order than a question. "Yeah, if you want me to. Honestly, right now she just needs rest and TLC more than a medic. That stands for 'tender loving care' by the way, not;" "You were just going," Zach said, as the voices moved to another end of the room below her. "Hey, you wanna know what makes an elf's toes curl up like tha;" Terry asked, his question cut off by the slamming of the door. Honey listened, trembling and terrified as Zach paced the floor below her. Though his voice hadn't changed, he sounded nothing like the man that had wooed her so tenderly a year ago. He sounded dangerous, brutal even. He definitely sounded like the kind of person that went around wanting to choke everyone, she thought, strangely relieved that her heartbreak felt a little less personal. How could she have been so wrong in her impression of him? She looked around the room, understanding now how the voices had reached her so easily. She was in an open industrial loft bedroom that opened onto the main floor below. Looking around, she realized she must be in Zach's huge bed, though if the crisply made side next to her was any indication, he hadn't been sleeping in it with her. Looking down her body, she gasped quietly. Her left arm was in a sling strapped to her chest, her legs were covered in bruises, and the right leg that was being stabbed with an invisible knife right now, was wrapped up in an air cast boot. What had happened to her? The last thing she remembered was feeling sick as she tried to get away from Lee's groping hands on the dance floor. After that; nothing. How did she get here? A beeping noise sounded below and Zach walked across the room to what sounded like a kitchen. The sound of water being poured into a cup, the ringing of a spoon stirring it, a pill bottle being opened. Honey shivered, realizing he was probably coming up to her, soon. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, feigning sleep. Steps ascending to the loft bedroom. Ankle stabbing, stab, stab, stab, stab with every panicked heartbeat. A tray went down on the nightstand next to her. A chair across the room was lifted and set down by the bed. Honey told herself to breathe slowly, willing the tears welling behind her lids not to leak out of her eyes. He would leave her alone if she was sleeping, wouldn't he? "You're not sleeping," Zach's voice stated, quietly, and her stomach clenched in fear. "You've been waking up for these pills every four hours like a junkie. I know you don't want to talk to me, Honey, but until you're squared away, you're gonna have to. So, cut the crap, open your eyes, and let's get this done." Honey opened her eyes to see his grim face looking down at her. With one blink, large tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and Zach's jaw set angrily. Sitting down in the chair, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned his massive shoulders forward, looking at her. His hands looked like they could crush rocks as he gripped them together. "Let's get some things straight. I don't know what you think you know about me, but acting like I'm some kind of psycho is pretty shitty. You want nothing of me, that's fine, but you're hurt because you screamed and flung yourself down some stairs rather than let me help you to an Uber. You're staying here until you're well, because some shithead at that party gave you enough roofies to be in a coma for almost 3 days and I'm not dragging my ass to that rat trap of yours in the Commons every day to make sure they don't come back while you're weak. Are we clear?" he asked. Honey swallowed and nodded, wincing at the pain in her neck and head. That just seemed to make Zach angrier. "While you are here, you will do as you're told. You will eat what you get, and you will not complain. You see these, here?" he said, holding up the magic caplets that made everything better. "These are the last ones you're getting. I'm switching you to ibuprofen and Tylenol because, unchecked, this Sackler shit will fuck you up for good and that's not happening on my watch. Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes," Honey whispered. At the sound of her voice, Zach's mouth twitched, but at least he didn't look as angry as when she'd nodded and winced. "You will follow your doctor's orders to the last goddamn word. You will rest. You will do your therapy. You will let me help you and you will ask me for what you need because I am not a fucking mind reader. And so help me, if you do anything stupid like get out of that bed without me here to help you, or push yourself away from me like you did at Gatsby's, or any other drama shit that hurts even one hair on that head again, I will personally make you regret you were ever born." "Yes, Zach," Honey breathed, confused. Two more tears rolled down her cheeks. Without thinking, she leaned over to wipe them off on her shoulder and cried out in pain. Zach squeezed his clenched hands together and several of his knuckles cracked. "You don't use my name. You don't get to use my name. You're not getting under my skin again, you hear me?" Zach growled, using his rough knuckle to wipe her tears. "Orders a fucking angel shot in my own fucking club; fuck you. I don't have a name, you don't have a name. You're nothing to me. Understand?" "Yes, sir," she whispered. Honey leaned forward and took the last spoonful of broth into her mouth and swallowed, looking longingly at the noodles at the bottom of the cup. Zach caught a drop of broth at the bottom of her lower lip with the spoon and returned it to her mouth. "No," he said, seeing where her eyes lingered. "I can do it," she pleaded. "Please; I haven't had anything solid since; how long has it been?" "I said, no. You throw up on another pair of my skivvies and I'll be doing laundry twice a week," Zach said, dabbing her mouth with a paper towel. "Why do I have to wear your boxer briefs anyway? They feel weird. They have this hole-flap thing; and there are some places that aren't supposed to feel a breeze," Honey said, lifting the blanket to look down at his underwear loosely covering her hips. "Are you complaining?" he asked quietly. Honey's eyes darted quickly to his face, "No sir," she murmured, looking down at her lap. "I just thought if I had some of my things here, you wouldn't have to do the laundry so much." "I'll worry about what I have to do, Honey," he said, unthinkingly using her name. Startled, she looked up to see his eyes wandering over her, his massive t-shirt sleeves going down past her elbows. She felt ridiculous and disheveled, but something about the way he looked at her made her hold her breath. Then, without another word, he slurped the noodles out of the cup and took the tray downstairs. After that, the two settled into a quiet routine of him feeding her, giving her medicine, and watching her sleep most of the day. She would sometimes awaken to the soft repetitive sounds of him running on a treadmill, or the clinking of him lifting weights downstairs where she couldn't see him. Then, he would go to the bathroom and shower. After his shower, he came upstairs again in his towel and took some clothes from his dresser before going back downstairs to change. Honey found herself looking forward to those few seconds each day, watching his droplet-covered torso twist as he leaned over his dresser. He frowned as he flipped through his carefully folded underwear. "You wearing the grey ones?" he asked, not looking at her. Honey peeked under the covers, "Um, yes sir," she replied. "I'm supposed to wear the grey ones today," he grumbled to himself. Honey didn't say anything. Zach was the one who picked out which underwear she wore today. He was the one who looked away while he painstakingly slipped the old ones off her hips and pulled the new ones over her boot and up her legs until her bottom was covered again. There was nothing about her life that wasn't chosen and executed by him. If he wasn't happy about the color of his underwear, that was his fault. Still, Zach kept rummaging around in his underwear drawer as if another crisply folded grey pair would somehow magically appear. Finally, rather than offend him by laughing, Honey spoke, "Um; you know, if they're clean, I could wear the pair I had on when I went to the hospital and you could have these. It would get you back on schedule; Zach lifted his head from the drawer and glared at her, as if he thought she was making fun of him. Honey held carefully still and shrugged her uninjured limb. She wasn't making fun, she just wanted to help. The movement caused the huge neckline to gape over to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. She waited as Zach stared impassively at her, the vein at his neck throbbing. After a long moment, he walked over and stood next to her, the tuck of his towel right next to her face. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of his wet body and the bar soap he used. A rivulet of water painstakingly slid from his chest and down his abdomen, until finally disappearing into the tightly twisted white cotton. Honey glanced up to see that he had been reading her face as she watched the droplet's progress. With a shaking breath, she blushed and pulled the covers higher with her good arm. With a twist of his mouth, Zach pulled the neckline back over her shoulder again and quickly left the room. That night, after leaving her with a video baby monitor watching her on the nightstand, Zach returned with a bag of her underwear and some of her nightgowns. After watching her excitedly sort through them, Zach pushed them aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "There were a bunch of boxes with tags on them in your living room. What's that about?" he asked. Honey's eyes dropped, "Oh; that's the charity gift thing for kids. You sign up and get them something they wished for and wrap it up so they can have something under the tree, when they wouldn't have something otherwise. It's nice, you know? I signed up for a bunch and I was supposed to wrap them and get them back to the law firm, but I guess; sorry kids," she trailed off. Looking furious, yet carefully impassive at the same time, Zach cursed under his breath and left again, returning with the packages and a huge stack of unused Styrofoam clamshells from Gatsby's, and dumped them on the bed next to her. For the next few hours, they "wrapped" the presents, Zach carefully fitting items into an appropriate-sized takeout box, and Honey trying to make them pretty with ribbons. As she watched him work, occasionally cursing under his breath, she found herself smiling at his frowning face when he was strategizing how to fit a basketball into three disassembled clamshells. "What are you laughing at?" he said, glaring when he caught her at it. "I wasn't laughing. I was smiling." "Why were you smiling, then?" he asked. "I guess; I just like you; sir," she said, glancing over at him. Honey saw a hopeful softness steal into Zach's eyes until he forcibly wrestled it down and a look of hooded sarcasm shaded them. "Yeah, well; fool me once," he sneered. Angry, Honey closed her eyes, blocking him out the only way she could. "You know, that's; that's not fair. Not after what you said; you scared me!" she said, frustrated that, once again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zach choked out a mirthless laugh, "I scared you? What did I say, Honey? What did I fucking say? God! I was on eggshells all night trying not to fuck it up with you and then you just; why? Those creeps you were dancing with at that party, those fucking 'nice guys' that drugged you, they were saying shit that made my skin crawl! I didn't even kiss you! I couldn't! I could barely breathe just for looking at you on our date; you looked just like a fucking angel. What did I say, Honey? What did I say?" Honey reached over and grabbed her phone, flipping through her photo album to a screenshot taken shortly before she blocked his number. "You didn't say it; you texted it. I remember watching you leave for the restroom thinking I'd met the love of my life and then you sent me this; she said, handing her phone to him. Zach took the phone, his face going from an angry red to pale horror in a matter of seconds. "This; this; he gasped, "I didn't; send this; to you; he said, shaking his head. "Whoever had your phone did, sir!" she said, emphasizing the last word, making him wince. "I spent the last year thinking you wanted to do that to me; to kill me. Every time I felt you watching me, every crowd I saw you show up in, every dark room I had to go into, that's what I thought about. I thought that a man I was head over heels about; that I could be so wrong about him. So, excuse me for thinking I liked you, sir. I promise it won't ever happen again!" Honey cried herself to sleep that night, refusing to speak to, or even look at Zach again. When she awoke, the bedroom was empty, and a glass of water and a pain pill were waiting on the nightstand. After swallowing the pill, she stared at the ceiling, furious. She didn't want to be there anymore, to be helpless and dependent on him, to obey all his stupid rules. He didn't deserve to take care of her. So, she tightened the straps on her boot and increased the air pressure to hold her broken ankle tightly enough to walk without her crutches. Then, she took off Zach's t-shirt, pulled on her elf dress, and called herself an Uber. It was when she saw the anticipated arrival time of 8 minutes that she realized her mistake. There was no way for her to get down from the loft and out of the apartment quietly in that amount of time. If she used the crutches, she would be able to descend the stairs quickly enough, but they made such a distinctive clicking racket that they would surely wake up her gorilla-like guard. If she hopped down the stairs on her good foot, it might have worked, but her good arm was on the opposite side and she kept losing her balance. Eventually she decided on the most painful course, of going down on her good and bad legs, using her good arm for support. Her boot thunked horribly the first few times, until she got the hang of it and could place it more quietly on the next step and then hop her good foot down to support it before the scream inside her could escape her lips. By the time she reached the bottom, though, she was shaking with pain and exhausted. Curiosity forced her to look around the rest of the apartment as she caught her breath, sitting on the bottom step. It was clean and unmistakably masculine. Exercise equipment took up a lot of the space not already claimed by a leather couch and TV arrangement. Zach lay on the couch, made up with sheets to act as a bed, his feet sticking out over the arm, his hand tucked under the back of his head, his chest rising and falling under the rumpled sheet. If she wasn't so angry, she'd find him handsome; or maybe he still was handsome, she thought grudgingly, closing her eyes miserably and looking away. Why couldn't he be ugly? Life wasn't fair. Uber. Right. Screwing up her courage for what was ahead, she stood and slowly hobbled across the hardwood floor, agonizing over every painful thump and noisy squeak until she finally reached the door. She unlocked the five locks on his large door, each of them being well-oiled and working perfectly. She expected no less of her anal-retentive, grey-skivvies-on-Tuesdays captor. Finally, she tugged open the heavy door to find endless flights of icy steel-mesh stairs leading all the way down to the street where her Uber was waiting. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me; she cried, breaking down into tears. A strong arm slid down around her waist and mercifully shifted her weight off her throbbing foot, "I know. It sucks. You should try it with a rucksack full of bricks," Zach said, leaning his head down and breathing into her hair. "I want to go home," she whispered. "Let me take care of you; please," Zach murmured into the top of her head, "I; it was my fault this happened to you. I scared you, I know that now; but, please believe me that I would never want to hurt or frighten you like that." "It wasn't just that text," she said, pulling her head away and looking up at him angrily. "All year, I never had a moment's peace. Even when I couldn't see you, I could feel you waiting in the quiet or dark places. Even if you weren't there;" "I was there," he confessed. "I was always there. I didn't understand what had gone wrong. You didn't want to talk to me, and the world just didn't make sense to me unless I knew where you were, what you were doing; unless I knew you were safe." "Maybe you knew I was safe, but I didn't! I thought I'd done something; that somehow I deserved to have this beautiful, scary monster hunting me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done to destroy something that was so; wonderful." "You didn't do anything, Honey. Nothing at all. You were perfect. You were so perfect that I couldn't keep; you didn't do anything wrong. I never meant to send you that message; please, please believe me." "Why did you send it?" she asked, finally looking up into his eyes. The dark blue liquid pools of her eyes turned violet in the moonlight, and Zach felt a tightening in his chest. "I; I can't tell you that; but it was never meant for you." "You mean, you meant to send that message to someone else? To hurt them like that?" "Honey, I; Zach said, looking around, unable to meet her eyes, "Please, I can't; you wouldn't understand; my life isn't like that anymore." "I want to go home, Zach; please," she whispered. Zach closed his eyes for a long moment before he swallowed and nodded, looking like he was in more pain than she was. "I'll take you home tomorrow, okay? Or Terry will, if you don't want me to. He'll check the place out, make sure you're set up and safe there. You're tired, you're hurting, and your Uber's gone, now. Let me take you back upstairs and you can go in the morning. Please." At that moment, a throb of pain shot through her entire leg, and as angry as Honey was, she knew she couldn't face her empty apartment without a few more hours of rest. "Okay," she whispered. To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 3 parts, for Literotica.

Still recovering from last week's deep dive into Burke and Berlin, Jonah Goldberg flexes his political muscles, traipsing across the Gaza deal, free speech in Britain, the Letitia James indictment, departmentalism, and the squalor of American politics.Show Notes:— Friday's Dispatch Podcast— Remnant Podcast with Jay Nordlinger— Jonah's Wednesday G-File on Tucker Carlson— Remnant with Emily OsterThe Remnant is a production of ⁠The Dispatch⁠, a digital media company covering politics, policy, and culture from a non-partisan, conservative perspective. To access all of The Dispatch's offerings—including access to all of Jonah's G-File newsletters—⁠click here⁠. If you'd like to remove all ads from your podcast experience, consider becoming a premium Dispatch member ⁠by clicking here⁠. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

durée : 00:02:16 - Le 2' chrono, ici Poitou Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.

Christi Le Fevre shares from her children's book, “The Adventures of Twirling Girl,” how God proved to her at a young age that we have a Heavenly Father who loves us, cares for us and hears us when we pray. Proving, “A father of the fatherless is God.” Psalm 68:3CHECK OUT the rest of Christi's story at www.mylon.orgOn the Road to Freedom TV at www.mylon.org/on-the-road-to-freedom/SUPPORT Christi's New Season at www.mylon.org/support/ConnectFB: /MylonLeFevreMinistriesIG: @Christi_LeFevreX: @Christi_LeFevre

The Fantastic Four: First Steps is finally out in theaters, and we're gonna talk about it! In this special episode, Steve's mom crashes the pod to discuss the Fab Four with five superfans, as we celebrate Marvel's latest (and best?!?!) film!This is a movie review episode only. We'll get back to books next week.The Comic Book Podcast is brought to you by Talking Comics. The podcast is hosted by Steve Seigh, Bob Reyer, Joey Braccino, Aaron Amos, and John Burkle, who weekly dissect everything comics-related, from breaking news to new releases. Our Instagram handle is @TalkingComicsPodcast, and you can email us at podcast@talkingcomicbooks.com.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison will shutter its division of diversity, equity and inclusion. It's moving most employees to other departments. We'll hear from our politics team on a big Supreme Court decision this week. And, the latest story in our Wisconsin Road Trip series brings us to Kenosha where a 75-year-old baton-twirler is a crowd favorite at Kenosha Kingfish games.

For some people in Wisconsin, baseball is a summer staple. And for Kenosha Kingfish fans, there’s a baton twirling usher who is an icon at the team’s Northwoods League games. WPR’s Evan Casey has more from the ballpark as part of our Wisconsin Road Trip series.

The journey of twirling Joy by CityLight Church

This week on On a Water Break, Nicole Younger is back hosting a twirl-tastic episode packed with passion, performance, and positivity! She's joined by Ashlee Amos and Ohio State's own Jacob Cline (@jacob.cline.161), and they're diving into everything from the pipeline between twirling and color guard to the world of college twirling auditions and what it's like being a male twirler building a platform and community online.

Send me a Text Message here.Twirling flames, Batman! They're signing over there!Ever wonder how you can learn International Sign (IS)? Well, here's how I did it and now work as an IS/English interpreter. I tell my journey into this part of the signed language interpreting profession and how my travels influenced my interpreting work.These are my insights into how you too can learn IS and also improve your everyday sign language interpreting services.IW CommunityA great place to meet regularly to laugh, learn, and lean on each other.You get:10 or 50% OFF of workshops, seminars. A great way to earn professional development hours.Online meetings to expand on the IW podcast episodes. Meet online with interviewees.Practice groups, Dilemma discussions.And more.Support the showDon't forget to tell a friend or colleague! Click below! IW Community Buy Me a Coffee Get extras with a subscription! Share the PODCAST Subscribe to the Monthly Newsletter Listen & follow on many other platforms. Send me a voicemail! [TRANSCRIPTS ARE HERE] Thanks for listening. I'll see you next week.Take care now.

This week, a man shoots himself trying to kill a cockroach, Alex Mansfield of the Manny Talks Shooting Podcast joins the show to make for the new longest episode in our library, we talk twirling open guns, shooting, matches, classifiers, and much more!  Subscribe on Patreon to get an extra episode every week! Listen on YouTube! Andy on Instagram - andy.e.605 Jeff on Instagram - jeff_the_monster_king MW Aktiv Wear - mw_aktiv_wear Not Another Shooting Show on Reddit

The Put it in the Books Show '25 Spring Training Special #2: Mets Rankings, Early Standouts & Alvarez Concerns Spring Training is rolling along, and so is *The Put it in the Books Show*! This week, Farace, Keith, and the ever-mysterious Producer Joe (still comfortably stationed behind the wall) take the reins once again while Rodriguez remains on the IL—or maybe he's just dodging Spring Training like a veteran pitcher with a sore arm. First up: Francisco Alvarez. The young catcher's situation is causing some early spring concerns, and we'll break down what it means for the Mets moving forward and if the team needs to start considering backup plans. Next, we'll dive into MLB Network's “Top 10 Right Now” rankings and check out which Mets made the cut at their respective positions. Are these rankings fair, or are we looking at another case of the national media disrespecting the orange and blue? Finally, we'll take a closer look at how some Mets are performing this spring. Who's hot? Who's cold? And most importantly, which overreactions can we start making immediately? With Rodriguez out, Producer Joe behind the wall, and Keith likely bringing an Excel sheet of unnecessary stats, this episode is guaranteed to have it all. Tune in as we break down all things Mets, Spring Training, and the early signs of what's to come in 2025. Baseball is back, and it's time to put it in the books! #FranciscoAlvarez #Mets #PutItInTheBooks #PiitB

Twirling Candy is following in his father's legendary footsteps at Lane's End Farm. A son of Candy Ride (Arg), Twirling Candy has sired 21 graded stakes winners, seven millionaires, and nine Grade 1 winners. In 2024, he added new G1 winner Iscreamuscream, winner of the Del Mar Oaks (G1) and the San Clemente H. (G2). Other 2024 GSWs include Ag Bullet (G2, G1 placed), Walkathon (G3), Two Sharp (G3), and Where's My Ring (G3).His 2023 GSWs include: G1 winner Exaulted, millionaire Gear Jockey, Evvie Jets and Dream Shake. 2023 also proved to be a great year for his two-year-olds, with 26 winners, including black type winners Where's Chris and Move to Gold. This success on the track was reflected in the sales ring. His yearling average increased to $160,064 and had seven-figure yearling and two-year-old sales.Twirling Candy is out of the Chester House mare House of Danzig, making him a half-sibling to G2 winner Ethnic Dance. Multiple Champion Affirmed can be found farther down his page. Candy Ride has already shown a remarkable affinity for the Storm Cat branch of the Northern Dancer line. Other branches of the Northern Dancer line to provide the dams of Candy Ride stakes winners are Sadler's Wells (sire of El Prado; grandsire of Medaglia d'Oro and Kitten's Joy), Nureyev (from a mare by Theatrical), Danzig and Dixieland Band. Candy Ride has found success with a wide variety of mares by stallions that descend from the Nasrullah line, with three stakes winners from mares by In Excess, as well as stakes winners out of mares by In Excess's son, Indian Charlie, and Cozzene. Candy Ride is out of a Mr. Prospector-line mare, and Twirling Candy should cross well over mares from that line.(UPDATED FEB 1, 2025)

 A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit's favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb. Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving"Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter," Miss Americana said. "She's flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I'll help her write there's no way she can fail."Professor Whirter shook his head. "Miss Americana!" he gasped. "The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!"The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A's on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana's sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor's newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana's expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. "Professor," she growled, "my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade's money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?"The Professor's blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. "Alright, alright," he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine."Ready?" Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum."Ready!" Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it."Perfect," she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket."Told you I heard a noise," the tall Pilgrim said to the short one."Heaven defend us!" the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them."Hello," Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. "Stay back, witch!" he said.His companion seemed less sure. "Are you sure she's a witch?" he asked."She's a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?" the short one asked."Hmm," the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. "Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,"He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. "Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!" he said. "No speaking hexes, either!"Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims' long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. "You boys are making a big mistake," she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. "Fortunately I can correct it,"But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker."Miss Americana!" Professor Whirter's voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. "You cannot harm anyone in this period!" he said. "Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!""Oh," Miss Americana gulped. "Right,"She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less."On second thought," she said, "I surrender."She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana's hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain."There," he said, backing up. "The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.""If you say so," Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim's head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. "Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out."Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. "Let's take her to the Elders," he said. "Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her."Miss Americana rolled her eyes. "That's what I said, you oafs!" she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day's large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. 'Who would wear a bikini during this time period?' she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea."We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest," the tall pilgrim said."We think she's a witch," the short one said. "Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?"Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly."I am not a witch!" she boldly declared. "I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan's palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!"'That ought to fool these simpletons,' she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony's current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her."Hmm," Captain Standish said. "If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so," he said."Prove it? And how should I do that?" Miss Americana asked, indignantly."If you were a harem girl," Captain Standish said, "then you know how to dance like one. So, show us." He turned his head to the man next to him. "Do you permit this Reverend?" he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana's flesh. But then he nodded. "If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it," he said.Americana gasped. "H-how can you ask me that?" she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. "The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission," he told her. "So if your story is true then prove it." He nodded up to the large table. "You can do it on there, if you would be so kind."Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily."Very well," she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. "But I cannot dance in these!" she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana's manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. "Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!" she said.And with that, she began to dance."H-holy shit," one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe."That's blasphemy," a second beside him murmured. "Also, god fucking damn," he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl."Verily, my friends," he said, "I was so distracted by the witch's performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize' stuff into the fire and, look what happened!"His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster's ear."Did the Lord really condone this, William?" he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. "After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale," he said. "Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up." Taking some of Captain Standish's popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder."Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!" he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. "The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!"At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana's wiggling and grinding bubble-ass."What?!" Governor Bradford gasped. "But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we'll starve! Why have they turned back?!"The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana."When the Sachem's party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one," he said. "The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,"At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock."My ass is not fat!" she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. "Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn't lead to fat!" she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. "What's a stair-masterer?" he asked. "Some sort of Turkish siege engine?"Myles shrugged, puzzled."Never mind that!" Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community's attention off Miss Americana. "This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!""Hmm," said Captain Standish. "What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.""But the whole point is we have no food!" Reverend Brewster pointed out. "What sort of peace offering could we give?""We could give them our guns, or the cannon," Governor Bradford said."And surrender our only military leverage?" Captain Standish scoffed. "I would sooner dump them in the sea!""The Indians are yet heathens," Reverend Brewster pointed out. "They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering' might they be interested in?"For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped."No," she whispered. "No, no, No!" Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. "How, how can you even consider that?!" she hissed. "Aren't you Puritans?! A Godly people?!"Reverend Brewster shook his head."We are," he affirmed. "But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!"Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana's body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them."I know well the meaning of the scarlet A's," Reverend Brewster said. "The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?"Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones upon her gloves, and finally remembered her Hawthorne.'Great Justice! Why didn't I pay more attention in high school lit class?' she thought, marking the first time in all of recorded history that this has occurred.But then she looked back up, and saw that all the Pilgrims were nodding in agreement with their spiritual leader. She swallowed.Suddenly, a sound came over her microphone. "You made the choice to go back into the past," Professor Whirter chided her. He could not quite keep the relish out of his voice, to see the arrogant heroine hoisted upon her own scantily-clad petard. "It is your duty now to make sure history goes forward, no matter what that takes!" He cut the feed again.Americana gasped. But then, squirming before the staring Pilgrims, she bowed her head and then slowly nodded."Very well," she said. "If it is what must happen, then so be it."At this, one of the few surviving female Pilgrims could remain properly silent no longer."Hey!" she snapped, from where she stood in the door of her roughly-built house, an apron over her simple dress and her hands soiled with flour from her long labors to prepare the day's feast. "You might fool them," she said, nodding at the men, "but you can't fool me. Given how you just danced in front of my husband, and that after all this time you still wear that harem attire with relish, don't pretend you don't want every cock you can take you thrice-damned Jezebel!"At this, Miss Americana gasped in shock. But she did not get a chance to respond, for around her the men had already launched into preparing their response, it had to be sent swiftly, before the Native column could get too far. With haste, a runner was sent, vanishing into the woods.In due time, a large party of Native Americans emerged from the forest and began to approach. In the meantime, Miss Americana had gotten down off the table, and now stood under guard nearby, beside and in front of the table of the elders. Miss Americana gulped in trepidation when she saw their numbers, there may have been forty or so adult male Pilgrims left, but there were more than twice that number of Indians approaching, all of them men.At the head of the column, there came a grand and muscular figure with burnished bronze skin, a large head-dress on his head. This, she knew from history and from the whispered comments of the Pilgrim elders just beside her, was Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoag people. It was only the treaty he had signed with the now-late Governor Carver, and its attendant protection from raiding and repeated deliveries of food, that had enabled the meager settlement around her to survive at all. At his side walked another Native man in a mixture of native and Pilgrim garb, from more comments among the elders Americana discerned that this was Tisquantum, better known to most white schoolchildren as 'Squanto', the Pilgrims' tutor and interpreter. Although he normally lived amongst the Pilgrims, he had gone off to help escort Massasoit in for this very important meeting.They were also, she could not help but notice, much more buff and handsome than she expected. As she gazed upon them, a strange tingle ran up and down between her legs, accompanied by a sudden and mysterious abundance of fluids.Behind Massasoit came a column of nearly a hundred Wampanoag warriors; a few came armed, but most were instead carrying great baskets filled with food. Turkeys; fish; pumpkins; maize; squash and cranberries, all in enormous quantity. Five recently felled deer were also carried, each on the shoulders to two strapping Wampanoag hunters. The Pilgrims' own supplies were very meager, more so than they would even admit to in the historical record, and Miss Americana realized that without the Indians' food the First Thanksgiving Feast would instead be replaced by a Great Starvation, and the probable extinction of the Plymouth colony.However, although they had come back, the Native American party remained suspicious. The majority of the column stopped just short of the entrance to the colony, and only Massasoit, Squanto, and a small honor guard of strapping warriors came forward to meet the Elders at their table."Greetings, Squanto," Governor Bradford said, standing. "And holy Greetings to the great king Massasoit, may the blessings of our God be upon him.""Greetings, Governor," Squanto replied. He bowed slightly, and gestured to his muscular boss beside him. "But the Great Sachem's mind is not rested. This one," he said, nodding towards Miss Americana, "and her, impressive, proportions, caused him some distress, that perhaps he had been lied to. I understand this is not the case?"Behind him, one by one, each of the native warriors was leaning out and gaping at Miss Americana in awe. In all their days and travels, they had never seen breasts nearly as enormous as hers, nor a figure quite so bountifully and visibly fertile."Please express our deep apologies for the misunderstanding to the Sachem," Governor Bradford replied. "This woman," he said, gesturing toward where Miss Americana stood chained, "is not a member of our community. We desired to give him a gift worthy of his own generosity, but as you know we have no food to spare. So we," He glanced at the two Pilgrims who had captured Americana, and still held her leash. "Obtained her," he decided to say at last, "so that we could have an appropriate present to reward him for his magnanimity."Squanto turned to Massasoit, and they shared a brief conversation in the Wampanoag tongue, which Americana could not understand, and, she gathered from their nervous squirming, the Pilgrims mostly could not either. Then Squanto turned back to them."I see," he said. He eyed Miss Americana up and down. "The Great Sachem wants to know, exactly what is the nature of this, gift?"Sitting near and behind her, Reverend Brewster looked up at Miss Americana's staggering curves."You reply to that one, Scarlet-Lettered One," he told her. "From what we have seen of your instincts with that body, you should not need words to do so,"Miss Americana blushed deeply. Then, she nodded. Before Massasoit, Squanto, the Elders, the Wampanoag warriors, and the entire Pilgrim community, she walked over to stand before the end of the Pilgrims' great main table. This faced back, directly towards where Massasoit stood, some few meters behind her. Reaching up, blush deepening on her cheeks, she put her hand between her breasts, and with a flick undid her golden star-shaped bra catch. Her huge bra, nevertheless under vast strain to contain her super-human rack, exploded apart, allowing her gigantic breasts to spill forth to jostle and sway before everyone."God, damn!" she heard Myles Standish say. Reverend Brewster, sitting right beside him, was himself too occupied by the dropping of his own jaw to call him on his blasphemy. Even the Pilgrim women appeared breathless at the sight of Americana's giant udders. A great hew and shout rose among the Wampanoag column, pointing and gaping in disbelief. Even Massasoit himself, who to this point had stood tall and still like a bronzed god among lesser men, seemed to be affected. Though he said nothing, as Miss Americana's huge breasts shook before him his eyebrows went up, and Miss Americana herself swallowed, as she noticed what seemed to be the stirrings of something disturbingly large in the front of his deerskin trousers.But she could not stop. Shrugging out of her bra, she turned and laid it on the table before her. Then, reaching back, she slipped her gloved hands into the hips of her panties. She squirmed for a few seconds, as she felt the eyes of every single member of both nations staring at her squirming ass. Then slowly, bending low, she guided her panties up and over her ass, and down her thighs. She slipped one boot out of them, then the other, and left them in a tiny colorful heap between her feet.Then, her lips trembling and her cheeks bright pink under her mask, Miss Americana made the one signal a woman could make that, regardless of language and culture, no man could mis-understand. Bending over, she put both hands on the table. Her voluptuous ass lifted up high and wiggling behind her, she slowly slid her boots wider and wider apart, until her long and mighty legs were spread at a nearly forty-five degree angle to either side. Then lifting her head, she looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes blinking moistly. Her dripping cunt was pointed straight back at Massasoit, gaping slightly to show her tender inner lips between the thicker outer ones, in clear and open invitation.Despite the clarity of Americana's signal, Massasoit still turned and, eyes never leaving the glistening cunt being offered to him, had a brief conversation with Squanto."The Great Sachem wishes to know," Squanto said, afterwards, "whether this gift is for him alone, or for his people as well."The Pilgrim Elders looked at each other.Reverend Brewster shrugged. "As I said," he stated, "at a certain point one must ask, does God care about a few more?"Governor Bradford nodded. "Anyone and everyone can partake of our gift," he said, "as the Chief wishes.""Oh, Great Justice!" Miss Americana whimpered, her eyes blinking in horror. But, knowing she had no choice if she was not to change history, although they trembled, her mighty thighs remained spread wide, and her hands, though they shivered, remained planted flat to the table.Squanto and Massasoit shared another brief conversation. It concluded with what appeared to be a magnanimous gesture by Massasoit, towards Americana's waiting and naked cunt. Squanto nodded, and then stepped forward."The Great Sachem accepts your generous gift," he said. Reaching up, he began to take off his shirt. "As he knows your laws would not permit you to do so yourselves, he wishes that I test her first, to make sure she is worthy of him. He will have her after me, and then the rest of the tribe."Miss Americana let out a tiny whimper of disbelief, as she heard this. But, strangely, the news seemed to have another effect on her cunt, where, between her muscular thighs, her naked slit suddenly seemed to drip with even more gooey juices than before.Unable to watch her fate coming, Americana turned her head away and instead looked down the table. This did little to lessen her humiliation, however, as she now just got to watch the entire Pilgrim community staring up at her, as she stood ready to secure their futures with the much-questioned purity of her gaping cunt.Standing behind her, Squanto took off his pants. This caused an immediate stir among the Pilgrim women."By the Lord," the woman who had called out Miss Americana said, her eyes going hypocritically wide.Another shook her head slowly. "I, I had, suspected," she said. "But I did not realize the true extent of the native's, gifts."Fortunately for the Pilgrim women, their men were too busy staring at the naked Queen of Justice to see where their wives' attention was directed. Meanwhile Miss Americana, her face down and looking at the table, was the only one who could not see what was coming up behind her. So she didn't have any clue what she was in for, until Squanto's dark hands appeared upon her pale curvy hips, and he swung himself up into position."Oh!" Miss Americana gasped, her blue eyes spreading wide, as she realized that, with both of his hands accounted for on her flesh, what she was feeling nuzzling up against her drooling cunt could not be a fist or arm, as she in the initial moment of contact suspected. She gasped deeply, her eyes spreading even wider, as his tip started to part her. She shook her head."Oh, oh my God," she said, as her cunt lips spread wider and wider around the incoming bronze cock-head, until they quivered to either side of the crest of his uncircumcised cock. "I, I didn't know," she whimpered, "that, that Squanto was so hung!" Her voice rose up to a squeal, as he thrust deep inside her."Is," the native interpreter calmly corrected the English-woman on her grammar. Then, taking a tight grip on her hips, he began to slam his massive cock vigorously back and forth inside her drooling slit.Miss Americana shook and squealed, as he nailed her. All around her, the Pilgrim men and women stared in awe. But Americana was not the only one to be affected by the experience for long."Oh, yes!" Squanto announced. Sliding his eager dark hands around from her hips he cupped her enormous breasts from below, and squeezed them, as he continued to nail her gaping cunt with bountiful vigor and abandon. "This, strange woman, is indeed, worthy of the Sachem!" he said. He rolled his head and gasped in awe. "My goodness! She is so tight!" he marveled, squeezing her enormous hooters and stroking their erect tips with his fingers. "And yet, there is an ocean inside her hips!""Very good!" Massasoit announced, revealing that, though he naturally depended on his interpreter for complex and important negotiations, he had had the foresight to learn some rudimentary English himself. He removed his pants and then his loincloth, which caused another stir among the Pilgrim women, as it was revealed that Squanto was not a unique outlier among his people.To be continued in part 2, By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.

“There's no comfort in your growth zone and there's no growth in your comfort zone. So, it's all about getting uncomfortable, and that's where we grow and we build our self-confidence.” – Tatiana LaBello Today's featured author is a serial ladypreneur, former national fitness champion, beauty pageant titleholder, world-renowned fitness expert, motivational speaker, and breakthrough mindset coach, Tatiana Labello. Tatiana and I had a fun on a bun chat about her books, the importance of seizing opportunities and embracing discomfort for self-discovery, and more!!Key Things You'll Learn:How baton twirling helped Tatiana develop discipline and perseveranceWhat it was like to reunite with her father and its effect on her identityOne of the biggest lessons that she learned from one of her coaching clients that leveled up her game as a coachWhy successful people surround themselves with like-minded individuals who are driven and mission-orientedWhat helped Tatiana overcome limiting beliefs and how she uses that knowledge to help her clients gain self-confidenceTatiana's Site: https://labellolifestyle.com/Tatiana's Books: https://a.co/d/6nesD5JThe opening track is titled "Heatsource" by the magnanimous chill-hop master, Marcus D (@marcusd). Be sure to visit his site and support his craft. https://marcusd.net/Please support today's podcast to keep this content coming! CashApp: $DomBrightmonDonate on PayPal: @DBrightmonBuy Me a Coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/dombrightmonGet Going North T-Shirts, Stickers, and More: https://www.teepublic.com/stores/dom-brightmonThe Going North Advancement Compass: https://a.co/d/bA9awotYou Might Also Like…Ep. 826 – How to Go From Benchwarmer to Superstar with Heather Gidusko (@HeatherGidusko): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-826-how-to-go-from-benchwarmer-to-superstar-with-heather-gidusko-heathergidusko/Ep. 848 – How To Be So Good They Won't Forget You with Emily Jaenson: https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-848-how-to-be-so-good-they-wont-forget-you-with-emily-jaenson/Ep. 786 – Claim Your Inner Warrior Badass with Kate McKay (@Katemckay18): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-786-claim-your-inner-warrior-badass-with-kate-mckay-katemckay18/#Bonus Ep. – “From Shy Girl to Award-Winning Model” with Lorna Greyling (@LornaGreyling): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/bonus-ep-from-shy-girl-to-award-winning-model-with-lorna-greyling-lornagreyling/Ep. 765 – Love Yourself to Health with Pam Sherman: https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-765-love-yourself-to-health-with-pam-sherman/Ep. 725 – “Closing the Confidence Gap” with Kelli Rae Thompson (@_KelliRThompson): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-725-closing-the-confidence-gap-with-kelli-rae-thompson-_kellirthompson/Ep. 802 – Strategies to Conquer the Muddy Fields of Life with Kelly Majdan: https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-802-strategies-to-conquer-the-muddy-fields-of-life-with-kelly-majdan/Ep. 753 – Becoming a Woman of Principle with Mary Katherine Morales (@MaryKatMorales): https://shorturl.at/dvyzPEp. 805 – The Full Spirit Workout with Kate Eckman (@KateEckman): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-805-the-full-spirit-workout-with-kate-eckman-kateeckman/Ep. 761 – Be Your Own Cheerleader with Neelu Kaur (@NeeluKaur01): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-761-be-your-own-cheerleader-with-neelu-kaur-neelukaur01/Ep. 369 – “Self Esteem Doesn't Come in a Bottle” with Kelly Falardeau (@kellyfalardeau): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-369-self-esteem-doesnt-come-in-a-bottle-with-kelly-falardeau-kellyfalardeau/Ep. 359 – “Think Yourself Confident & Successful” with Nathalie Plamondon-Thomas (@thinkyourselfAc): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-359-think-yourself-confident-successful-with-nathalie-plamondon-thomas-thinkyourselfac/Ep. 810 – You Are Worthy with Katherine Norland (@katnorland): https://www.goingnorthpodcast.com/ep-810-you-are-worthy-with-katherine-norland-katnorland/

Join The Patreon for the Maximum amount of extra content: https://www.patreon.com/MaximumZach   We've got HIVEMIND this week. No, not the "master mind" controlling everything, but the YouTube sensations, Riley and Graydon! The gents sit down with Zach Holmes this week to talk about intense sign twirling beef (yes, that is a thing, believe it or not). Also, have you worked on a Christmas tree farm? It's not as jolly as you'd think. Plus, Zach talks about some weird dreams (watch out for bears) and they talk about the first videos they made as kids. All this, and more...lots more! Follow HIVEMIND on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hivemindtvFollow HIVEMIND on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@HIVEMINDTV________________________________________________________________________ Zach Holmes, AKA Zackass from Jackass Forever, is on a mission to become the most Maximum Zach he can be. To do so, he'll interview the brightest minds in tech, science & medicine...and if he can't get them, he'll probably just talk to his comedy, Hollywood, porn & skater pals. Join The Patreon for the Maximum amount of extra content: https://www.patreon.com/MaximumZach Subscribe to the channel: https://www.youtube.com/@maximumzachtvListen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/maximum-zach/id1707698909 Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/1j2PTiAN8kmvmvr6Un7QLZ?si=b9007e1555a14834 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/zackass/ https://www.instagram.com/maxzachpod Book Zach On Cameo! https://www.cameo.com/zackass ________________________________________________________________________ See Zach LIVE!More dates coming soon!________________________________________________________________________ Maximum Zach is produced by Cosmic Monkey Recorded at F22 Studios - Burbank, CA #MaximumZach #Zackass #Jackass #Hivemind

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.“Perfect,” she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.And with that, she began to dance.“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”Myles shrugged, puzzled.“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”Reverend Brewster shook his head.“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.The current reigning Miss Americana is a college student who forces Professor Whirter to send her back to the First Thanksgiving; so she can help Flag Girl with a history assignment. She gets led before the elders of the colony, only for a distraught messenger to run in reporting that the Wampanoag party carrying the majority of the food has turned back. Having spotted Miss Americana, they have concluded the colony cannot be so hard up for food as they claim if it contains one as well-endowed as she is.In order to restore history, Miss Americana presents herself as a peace offering to restore Massasoit’s favor. She ends up being a feature of the event; from her place at the end of the long Thanksgiving table. For the entire duration of the famous feast, a seemingly endless succession of Wampanoag warriors indulge in her charms.Finally, after everyone has had their fill, she is left a sprawled devastated wreck upon the gutted feasting table. Alone at last, she gets warped safely back to the present, only to discover that her misadventure will have lasting and historic consequences for the interior of her womb.Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving“Flag Girl has a school project due, Dr. Whirter,” Miss Americana said. “She’s flunking, so we need a guaranteed A. So I want you to send me back in time. If we can learn the true history of the First Thanksgiving, then with the report I’ll help her write there’s no way she can fail.”Professor Whirter shook his head. “Miss Americana!” he gasped. “The time machine is not a toy! You cannot use it for such purposes!”The mighty superheroine stood before him in his lab. She was resplendent in her defiant costume, which consisted chiefly of a patriotic American Flag bikini. A golden belt, the source of her powers, lay cinched tight about her buxom hips, emblazoned with a bright red A upon its buckle, at the center of her broad flat belly. She wore a star-spangled mask upon her face to protect her secret identity, with a matching A on her forehead. Two red gloves with blue A’s on the backs of her hands, and gleaming red boots, completed her ensemble.Her sidekick Flag Girl stood by her side, in a very similar but less ostentatious version of the same costume, and at least had the decency to blush. Behind Americana’s sculpted ass, the platform of the Professor’s newly-built time machine waited.Miss Americana’s expression darkened behind her mask. She was a proud woman and not used to being denied. “Professor,” she growled, “my, I mean, my good friend Brenda Wade’s money pays for this place. Do you really want me to put in a word with her about how, diligently, you use your funding?”The Professor’s blood ran cold, and he caved immediately. “Alright, alright,” he said, bowing his head. Obediently, he went to the control panel, and started twisting dials. Flag Girl followed, watching curiously over his shoulder. Smiling smugly at her easy victory, Miss Americana walked up onto the round steel platform of the time machine.“Ready?” Professor Whirter asked, as the machine started to hum.“Ready!” Miss Americana announced, proudly. A crackle of energy sounded, and a glow of light enveloped her. When it faded, she was gone.The wind stirred the woods near the Plymouth colony. It was autumn, and the leaves were red and orange and brown. There was a crackle of energy and a flash of light, and Miss Americana appeared. Sauntering up to the edge of the tree-line, she pulled down a branch and smirked.Before her, across a large tilled field covered in the remains of harvested wheat, lay a hill. Atop the hill she saw a cluster of rough-hewn houses overlooking a rocky harbor. A second adjacent hill nearby held a simple earthwork with a few cannon emplaced upon it.“Perfect,” she cooed.There came a rustling in the brush behind her. Two men emerged, one tall and one short. They wore black woolen clothing and broad-brimmed black hats. Each brandished a long flintlock musket.“Told you I heard a noise,” the tall Pilgrim said to the short one.“Heaven defend us!” the short Pilgrim said, eyes going wide, as he saw what had caused it.The two Pilgrims gaped in disbelief for several seconds at the stacked scantily-clad beauty that stood before them.“Hello,” Miss Americana said. She started to move towards them.But at that instant, the short Pilgrim snapped his musket up and pointed it at her. “Stay back, witch!” he said.His companion seemed less sure. “Are you sure she’s a witch?” he asked.“She’s a strange woman hanging out in the woods, what else could she be?” the short one asked.“Hmm,” the tall one said. He looked Americana up and down again. “Well, she has certainly cast a spell on my phallus so,”He suddenly snapped his musket up, and cocked back the flint. “Get on your knees and put your hands up, witch!” he said. “No speaking hexes, either!”Miss Americana sighed, and shook her head, as she looked down the barrels of the two Pilgrims’ long guns. Given the protections of her belt, she had absolutely nothing to fear from bullets. “You boys are making a big mistake,” she cooed at them, as she cracked her knuckles and prepared to use her superhuman might to subdue them. “Fortunately I can correct it,”But suddenly, a noise crackled in the earpiece of the communication system embedded in her earrings and choker.“Miss Americana!” Professor Whirter’s voice said, rising and falling from time distortion as he spoke to her from the viewing panel of his time machine. “You cannot harm anyone in this period!” he said. “Given their lack of medical care and poor nutrition, one punch could be deadly. And each of these men may have tens of thousands of descendants in our modern time, one of which just might be you! If you lay a finger upon them you might well erase yourself from history!”“Oh,” Miss Americana gulped. “Right,”She looked back and forth between the two men and their guns. She swallowed, but realized she truly had no choice. Getting summoned back immediately, in front of the two witnesses, could hardly disturb the time line much less.“On second thought,” she said, “I surrender.”She went down onto her knees before them, and put her hands up.The taller Pilgrim kept his gun on her, while the shorter Pilgrim came forward. He had a set of iron manacles he had brought on his patrol, in case they should happen upon a hostile person spying on the colony and have a chance to take him prisoner. While his partner covered him, he dragged Americana’s hands behind her curvy back and manacled them above her ass, having great difficulty keeping his eyes off the panty-swelling contours of her posterior as he did so. Then he put an iron collar on her, to which was attached a length of chain.“There,” he said, backing up. “The cold iron should keep the witch from casting any hexes upon us.”“If you say so,” Miss Americana said, standing back up. Due to her superior nutrition and super-human genetics, she stood a head taller than even the taller of them. The shorter Pilgrim’s head was level with her enormous breasts, a fact that despite his literally puritanical nature he seemed to find immensely affecting. “Now, please take me to your leaders so that I may work this misunderstanding out.”Eyeing her up and down, the taller one turned to his partner. “Let’s take her to the Elders,” he said. “Between them, the Reverend, the Governor, and Captain Standish will know what to do with her.”Miss Americana rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, you oafs!” she said, the chains clanking as she shifted her bikini-clad body impatiently.Leading her by her new chain, the two Pilgrims marched Miss Americana out of the woods and up the hill towards the colony. As she approached, Miss Americana saw that a long table had been set up in the middle of the ring of houses. Although there were seats for over a hundred, only about forty men sat at it, and despite what should have been the impending festivities they looked nervous and emaciated. A short distance away upon the hill she noticed a chillingly extensive grave-yard, with nearly as many shallow and hastily-dug graves as she saw living people in the colony.A little ways away from the main table, a second table had been set up for the Elders of the community, though here too there were several empty seats. They sat only on one side, facing towards the rest of the community. Miss Americana was brought to stand before the Elders, while the rest of the male colonists gaped at her in disbelief from where they sat. Several women and children rushed out to the doors and windows of the houses where they were working preparing the day’s large meal and also stared in wonder at the strange woman being led through their midst, although their faces twisted in jealousy when they saw how their men were gaping at her.As she was marched forth, Miss Americana wracked her brain desperately, for once, for a non-violent solution to her problems. ‘Who would wear a bikini during this time period?’ she thought to herself. Then suddenly, with a gasp, she got an idea.“We caught this strangely-attired and exotically-shaped one snooping about in the north-west forest,” the tall pilgrim said.“We think she’s a witch,” the short one said. “Shall we put her under some rocks and crush her to find out?”Stepping forward dramatically, Miss Americana lifted her head high and addressed the elders of the colony directly.“I am not a witch!” she boldly declared. “I am an Englishwoman, like you! But I was captured by the Turks and kept in their harem. I escaped from the sultan’s palace, but was blown by a storm all the way to this shore!”'That ought to fool these simpletons,’ she thought to herself smugly, as she watched them process this.Before her, at the center of the table, the leading men of the colony sat, pondering her response. She vaguely recognized them, from their historical portraits: William Brewster, the chief spiritual leader of the colony; Myles Standish, the captain of the colonial militia; and William Bradford, the colony’s current Governor. They each stroked their beards, considering her.“Hmm,” Captain Standish said. “If what you say is true, and you are no witch, then you should be prepared to prove it so,” he said.“Prove it? And how should I do that?” Miss Americana asked, indignantly.“If you were a harem girl,” Captain Standish said, “then you know how to dance like one. So, show us.” He turned his head to the man next to him. “Do you permit this Reverend?” he asked.Beside him, Reverend Brewster shifted uncomfortably, as he allowed his holy gaze to sweep up and down Americana’s flesh. But then he nodded. “If it is necessary to prove whether she is in league with the Devil, then, as God wills it,” he said.Americana gasped. “H-how can you ask me that?” she said.Governor Bradford looked at the other two, then back to her, and smirked. “The Captain has given his orders and the Reverend has given his permission,” he told her. “So if your story is true then prove it.” He nodded up to the large table. “You can do it on there, if you would be so kind.”Miss Americana gasped. But then she lifted her head and nodded, haughtily.“Very well,” she said. She held up her wrists behind her back, the manacles clanking on them. “But I cannot dance in these!” she said.At a quickly-supplied nod from Captain Standish in his role as commander of the militia, the short pilgrim approached and unlocked Americana’s manacles. But they left the collar on her. Her chain still held at the far end by the tall pilgrim like a long leash, Miss Americana turned and, with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, marched up to the long table and ascended to stand atop it. Around her the common Pilgrims, male and female alike, gaped up in awe as she came to tower against the sky above them.Standing tall before the whole colony, Miss Americana lifted up her arms, and arched her body gracefully. “Prepare to see my skill, and know I speak the truth!” she said.And with that, she began to dance.“H-holy shit,” one Pilgrim gasped, gaping upwards in awe.“That’s blasphemy,” a second beside him murmured. “Also, god fucking damn,” he added, staring up as well.None of them had ever seen anything like it. Miss Americana did her best to imitate how she had seen strippers or slutty girls in night clubs dance, whenever she had ventured into those places as part of her crime-fighting duties. Lifting her arms up she shook her enormous cans in broad circles, making them slosh and bounce dramatically within the confines of her gargantuan yet overloaded bra. Going down low, she bounced her ass just above the table, while presenting an excellent view of her panty-clad crotch between her wide-spread thighs. Twirling about, she shook and shimmied her ass for them, showing off the grace and flexibility of her muscular legs at the same time she shook the contours of her enormous bubble-ass.Midway through her performance, there came a loud crackling, then a pilgrim suddenly came up holding a large wooden bowl.“Verily, my friends,” he said, “I was so distracted by the witch’s performance, I dropped the last of that 'maize’ stuff into the fire and, look what happened!”His large bowl was filled to the brim with popcorn. Passing it around, the Pilgrims munched eagerly as they watched Miss Americana, having become lost in her own perfectionism, continue to dance and dance seductively before them.A little later, munching a little popcorn of his own, Myles Standish leaned over and put his lips near Reverend Brewster’s ear.“Did the Lord really condone this, William?” he asked, chuckling softly.Reverend Brewster shook his head. “After so many deaths the colony certainly needed a boost of morale,” he said. “Clearly God sent us one. Also, shut up.” Taking some of Captain Standish’s popcorn, he munched on it as well as he watched Miss Americana, bent low at the waist, shake and shimmy her enormous breasts in such a way that he could like right down the tremendous cleavage between them.Suddenly, a distraught sentry came running into the midst of the colony, stopping only briefly, to gape at what he had been missing in wonder.“Governor Bradford, Governor Bradford!” he moaned, his eyes still darting over repeatedly to take in the dancing Queen of Justice in awe. “The Indians! They are not coming! They are turning back, and taking their food with them!”At this a great groan rose from the Pilgrims, even as they continued to stare at Miss Americana’s wiggling and grinding bubble-ass.“What?!” Governor Bradford gasped. “But our stores are almost depleted! Without that food, we’ll starve! Why have they turned back?!”The sentry nodded up to Miss Americana.“When the Sachem’s party came out of the woods, they saw the huge teats and fat ass on that one,” he said. “The Sachem said that if we had a woman of such bountiful proportions, we surely could not be starving, and had deceived him as to our lack of food,”At this, Miss Americana stopped dancing and gasped down in shock.“My ass is not fat!” she hissed, her face quivering in fury behind her mask. Reaching back she slapped her gloved hand against her ass repeatedly, turning so every member of the community got to see, showing off that though it was awesomely projecting and generously curved, every inch of her enormous bubble-ass was in fact taut and silky muscle. “Two hours a day on a Stairmaster doesn’t lead to fat!” she hissed.Reverend Brewster turned to Captain Standish, their veteran soldier and military expert. “What’s a stair-masterer?” he asked. “Some sort of Turkish siege engine?”Myles shrugged, puzzled.“Never mind that!” Governor Bradford said. He stood up, getting the community’s attention off Miss Americana. “This is a disaster! We have to find some way to make amends. If Massasoit breaks the treaty and stops giving us supplies, we are done for!”“Hmm,” said Captain Standish. “What we need is some sort of tribute to appease him, a peace offering, if you will.”“But the whole point is we have no food!” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “What sort of peace offering could we give?”“We could give them our guns, or the cannon,” Governor Bradford said.“And surrender our only military leverage?” Captain Standish scoffed. “I would sooner dump them in the sea!”“The Indians are yet heathens,” Reverend Brewster pointed out. “They do not follow Christian virtues. So what sort of 'peace offering’ might they be interested in?”For a short time, the Pilgrims looked at one another. Then, slowly, all eyes turned up to look at Miss Americana, and stared at her spectacular and well-displayed body meaningfully.Miss Americana stared back for a few seconds, still perched imperiously upon their table. Then, as she realized what they were all thinking, her jaw dropped.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, No!” Reaching up she folded her hands over her giant breasts, which given the quantity of her flesh on display, did little to reduce the quality of the goods for them to consider when evaluating potential tributes. “How, how can you even consider that?!” she hissed. “Aren’t you Puritans?! A Godly people?!”Reverend Brewster shook his head.“We are,” he affirmed. “But, woman, even God must recognize a lost cause at some point. Verily, I see from your attire that you have already committed adultery no less than four times!”Lifting his hand, he pointed to various parts of Miss Americana’s body. Upon her tiara and upon her belt was emblazoned a bright red A. Her red gloves also each had a large blue A upon them.“I know well the meaning of the scarlet A’s,” Reverend Brewster said. “The azure ones I am not familiar with, perhaps they mean you only soiled your mouth or your posterior entrance? But regardless, woman, I am a man of God, but at some point surely one does have to ask, is even the Good Lord Himself going to give the tiniest of shits about just a few more?”Looking down, Miss Americana gasped as she stared at the bright red A upon her belt, and the blue ones

There is drama with Zac Brown's divorce plus more speculation on who should play Britney. Shawn Mendes is back and so are the Olson twins. Tina Rafowitz joins the show to talk about her new children's book, ''Gary and Gibby's Swirling, Twirling, Whirling Worries'Plus, we talk Bed rotting and Demure Fall. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

There is drama with Zac Brown's divorce plus more speculation on who should play Britney. Shawn Mendes is back and so are the Olson twins. Tina Rafowitz joins the show to talk about her new children's book, ''Gary and Gibby's Swirling, Twirling, Whirling Worries' Plus, we talk Bed rotting and Demure Fall. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Join our hosting panel as they talk about all the National Twirling Championships. From Twirling Unlimited to USTA and even NBTA, we have all the inside scoop you are looking for. Our hosts bring you their stories, plus news, guests, and so much more!Special GuestsMarissa Pierce - @mpierce11Kim Jones - @kimberlyelyjonesMeet our HostsJackie Brown - @spintronixguardStephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickCindy Barry - @leandermommaNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgTrevor Bailey - @t_pain151Trish O'Shea - @trishdish1002Beth Beccone - @bether7189Chris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click - @stephanieclickWhitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Ashley Tran - @itsashleytranJack Goudreau - @goudreau_Bill Woodward - @remoking100Emily Nee - @tch.makes.artRicardo Robinson-Shinall - @ricardorrobinsonAustin Hall - @Austin_hall10Jose Montes - @joeymontes57Bobbey Biddle - @bobbeyboy107Music provided by leydamusic.com Follow him @josh.leydaAvatars provided by @tch.makes.artFeaturingLexi Duda - Host for On A Water Break In Rhinestones - The Stories of the Twirlers @lexi_dudaThank you also to @guardcloset#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #wgi #drumline #twirling #nbta #nationalbatontwirlingassociation #USTA #twirlingunlimited #majorette #starsandStripes

HOUR 2 - Seth and Sean dive into what the Texans coordinators Bobby Slowik and Matt Burke had to say about the new weapons at their disposal this season, and discuss the Astros being high on the odds board to enlist the services of Pete Alonso or Vlad Guerrero Jr.

Seth and Sean discuss Texans coordinators Bobby Slowik and Matt Burke talking and twirling their metaphorical moustaches over their plans for their new weapons.

Join our hosting panel as they dive into Mental Health in the Marching Arts with some amazing clinicians including Dr. Shari Kuzel, a mental health professional in the marching arts and Jared Polite founder of Melanin Mosaic. Our hosts bring you their stories, plus news, guests, and so much more!Special GuestsShari Kuzel - @shkuzelJarid Polite - @melaninmosiacpaMeet our HostsJackie Brown - @spintronixguardStephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickCindy Barry - @leandermommaNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgTrevor Bailey - @t_pain151Trish O'Shea - @trishdish1002Beth Beccone - @bether7189Chris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click - @stephanieclickWhitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Ashley Tran - @itsashleytranJack Goudreau - @goudreau_Bill Woodward - @remoking100Emily Nee - @tch.makes.artRicardo Robinson-Shinall - @ricardorrobinsonCallie Quire - @cnquireAustin Hall - @Austin_hall10Jose Montes - @joeymontes57Music provided by leydamusic.com Follow him @josh.leydaAvatars provided by @tch.makes.artFeaturingLexi Duda - Host for On A Water Break In Rhinestones - The Stories of the Twirlers @lexi_dudaThank you also to @guardcloset#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #wgi #drumline

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Melt into the magical place of sleep, Where your dreams can dance and play,  With no limits or boundaries,  And no one telling them what can't be. Tonight, dream about the possibilities. Lay your head down and close your eyes, And bring your attention here, Away from the end of the day thoughts floating around your mind, And into the presence of your body on your bed.  PAUSE… Connect to the motion of your breathing, Riding its waves coming up onto the shore as you breathe in, And falling back into the ocean as you breathe out, Breathe in, Breathe out. PAUSE… Let your arms and legs melt into your bed, Let your cheeks relax, Your shoulders drop, And your stomach soften.  Breathe, And sink deeper into relaxation. PAUSE… Anything is possible, my love. Let the limiting chains of the world break loose as you invite all the possibilities to enter your dreams tonight.  So they can play freely, Twirling and jumping and laughing in delicious delight.  PAUSE… Invite them in, All your desires, All your visions, All the wildest parts of your imagination. Bring them here to the night, And feel the warmth of their embrace. They want to heal you, Stretch you, Enliven you, And infuse you with magic. PAUSE… So breath slowly,  And feel the rhythm of the music, As you let your possibilities play. LONG PAUSE… Let your desires run free here, In the unbound pastures of dreamland. Surrender to melody, The movement, And all the possibilities. PAUSE… Let all judgements go, And all the rules dissolve away. No one gets to dictate your dance. There are no limits here. So dream, my love, About the incredible possibilities that exist for you here, And watch them transcend into your life.  Sweet Dreams, Beautiful

Dancing outside the concentration camp, rave music pounding through our bones like bombs. A disco at the genocide, baby. A disco at the genocide. Twerking outside the open-air prison. Raving while Gaza asphyxiates. Twirling glow sticks while a Final Solution is planned. Just an innocent bit of fun. Chill out and dance outside the concentration camp. What could possibly go wrong? We've got the IDF looking after us. They'd never let anything bad happen. So dance while the Palestinians are squeezed to death. Dance while the polar ice caps melt. Dance while the oceans fill with plastic. Dance while the rainforests disappear. Dance while nuclear warheads are primed. Dance while mothers scream impossible screams. Dance while the arms industry reaps record profits. Dance while fathers pick up pieces of their kids. Dance while AI helps exterminate families. Dance while Gazans dehydrate under rubble. Dance while limbs are amputated without anaesthesia. Dance while death machines patrol the sky. Dance while the news man fills our heads with lies. Dance while the podium man denies everything he sees. Dance while the sharptooth manipulators scheme. Dance while our minds are turned into machines. Dance to the beat of imperial psytrance. Dance to the beat of the Pentagon Polka. What could possibly go wrong? Dance outside the concentration camp. A disco at the genocide, baby. A disco at the genocide. _________________ Reading by Tim Foley.

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Melt into the magical place of sleep, Where your dreams can dance and play,  With no limits or boundaries,  And no one telling them what can't be. Tonight, dream about the possibilities. Lay your head down and close your eyes, And bring your attention here, Away from the end of the day thoughts floating around your mind, And into the presence of your body on your bed.  PAUSE… Connect to the motion of your breathing, Riding its waves coming up onto the shore as you breathe in, And falling back into the ocean as you breathe out, Breathe in, Breathe out. PAUSE… Let your arms and legs melt into your bed, Let your cheeks relax, Your shoulders drop, And your stomach soften.  Breathe, And sink deeper into relaxation. PAUSE… Anything is possible, my love. Let the limiting chains of the world break loose as you invite all the possibilities to enter your dreams tonight.  So they can play freely, Twirling and jumping and laughing in delicious delight.  PAUSE… Invite them in, All your desires, All your visions, All the wildest parts of your imagination. Bring them here to the night, And feel the warmth of their embrace. They want to heal you, Stretch you, Enliven you, And infuse you with magic. PAUSE… So breath slowly,  And feel the rhythm of the music, As you let your possibilities play. LONG PAUSE… Let your desires run free here, In the unbound pastures of dreamland. Surrender to melody, The movement, And all the possibilities. PAUSE… Let all judgements go, And all the rules dissolve away. No one gets to dictate your dance. There are no limits here. So dream, my love, About the incredible possibilities that exist for you here, And watch them transcend into your life.  Sweet Dreams, Beautiful

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Find yourself a quiet place, Somewhere you can just be. Close your eyes and focus on you, Tap into your inner joy.   PAUSE… It can feel like that joy is missing, But deep down, you know it's there. It may be buried beneath other things, But its light burns bright behind the scenes.   PAUSE… Life often tries to cover it up, Whether on purpose or by circumstance. So many emotions pile on top, Making us forget it's a part of us.   PAUSE… You don't have to let that illusion stand, Don't have to let the happy memories fade. Instead, there are ways to reignite that joy, To let it wash over you regularly.   PAUSE… One of the best ways to make that happen Is to set your spirit free. Remember how much it loves to dance, And make space in your mind for the party.   PAUSE… Picture yourself really letting loose, Twirling merrily and showing off. Rattle the rafters and shake the walls, As you shimmy for all you're worth.   PAUSE… The music you hear can be anything, Whatever sets your soul on fire. See yourself dressed in bright, flowy clothes, Spinning, smiling and moving.   PAUSE… Throw back your head and kick up those heels, Feel the elation flow through your body. Whether you dance in your mind or out in the world, The thrill can be just the same.   PAUSE… The key is to make it a habit, To regularly seek out delight. Let the YOU within stay in touch with bliss, And the outer YOU will benefit too.   PAUSE… Once your heart gets a taste of that abandon, You'll find yourself looking for more. Moments that once felt ordinary, Will start to glow with possibility. PAUSE… It's crazy how easily we surrender to the darkness, How quickly we forget what we need. It takes effort and true dedication To stay in touch with our authenticity.   PAUSE… When you dance, you're as honest as you can be, Moving as one with your truth. So wobble, baby, wobble for all you're worth, And then explore whatever shakes loose.   PAUSE… There's no such thing as too much joy, And in fact, we're often deficient. The sooner you take steps to turn that around, The sooner music can fill you up.   PAUSE… Give yourself the pleasure you need. Ignore the voices that try to stop you. As often as you can, just dance, dance, dance, And let the bliss fall where it will.   Namaste, Beautiful

We have a really fun show today, with fresh jokes, Anthony's confusion about twirling, and Amish cart and buggy theft. We hear how Jason Kelce enjoyed Buffalo and learned something pretty surprising about the Big Tree Inn. We hunt for a Tesla to hunt ghosts, we learn why Cass is waving through the studio window, and Anthony reveals he JUST did this at work for the first time. We share our tales of teenage smoking, inspired by the man who ran a marathong while chain smoking, celebrate some local food news, and get creeped out about people hiding bodies. We test the theory of “The 5 worst things a woman can say to a man” and make our own list, as well as debate the things plumbers say people once flushed down the toilet.   Support the show and follow us here Twitter, Insta, Apple, Amazon, Spotify and the Edge! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

One caucus down and it appears the whole GOP primary is decided. Thankfully when you get a guest like Henry Olsen (EPPC senior fellow and host of the must-listen Beyond the Polls podcast) everything stays fresh and interesting. Henry has thoughts on what's left of this Republican primary along with the mess in the D camp; he runs us through campaigns we're scratching our heads at, forgotten about—or would like to forget about; and he swats away many of the overconfident predictions about how a Trump/Biden rematch will shake out. James, Rob and Peter applaud Javier Melei and the great free market that wants to spread good news; plus they say their piece about inclement weather and wonder what time it really is in New York.

One caucus down and it appears the whole GOP primary is decided. Thankfully when you get a guest like Henry Olsen (EPPC senior fellow and host of the must-listen Beyond the Polls podcast) everything stays fresh and interesting. Henry has thoughts on what’s left of this Republican primary along with the mess in the D […]

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Find yourself a quiet place, Somewhere you can just be. Close your eyes and focus on you, Tap into your inner joy.   PAUSE… It can feel like that joy is missing, But deep down, you know it's there. It may be buried beneath other things, But its light burns bright behind the scenes.   PAUSE… Life often tries to cover it up, Whether on purpose or by circumstance. So many emotions pile on top, Making us forget it's a part of us.   PAUSE… You don't have to let that illusion stand, Don't have to let the happy memories fade. Instead, there are ways to reignite that joy, To let it wash over you regularly.   PAUSE… One of the best ways to make that happen Is to set your spirit free. Remember how much it loves to dance, And make space in your mind for the party.   PAUSE… Picture yourself really letting loose, Twirling merrily and showing off. Rattle the rafters and shake the walls, As you shimmy for all you're worth.   PAUSE… The music you hear can be anything, Whatever sets your soul on fire. See yourself dressed in bright, flowy clothes, Spinning, smiling and moving.   PAUSE… Throw back your head and kick up those heels, Feel the elation flow through your body. Whether you dance in your mind or out in the world, The thrill can be just the same.   PAUSE… The key is to make it a habit, To regularly seek out delight. Let the YOU within stay in touch with bliss, And the outer YOU will benefit too.   PAUSE… Once your heart gets a taste of that abandon, You'll find yourself looking for more. Moments that once felt ordinary, Will start to glow with possibility. PAUSE… It's crazy how easily we surrender to the darkness, How quickly we forget what we need. It takes effort and true dedication To stay in touch with our authenticity.   PAUSE… When you dance, you're as honest as you can be, Moving as one with your truth. So wobble, baby, wobble for all you're worth, And then explore whatever shakes loose.   PAUSE… There's no such thing as too much joy, And in fact, we're often deficient. The sooner you take steps to turn that around, The sooner music can fill you up.   PAUSE… Give yourself the pleasure you need. Ignore the voices that try to stop you. As often as you can, just dance, dance, dance, And let the bliss fall where it will.   Namaste, Beautiful

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Find yourself a quiet place, Somewhere you can just be. Close your eyes and focus on you, Tap into your inner joy.   PAUSE… It can feel like that joy is missing, But deep down, you know it's there. It may be buried beneath other things, But its light burns bright behind the scenes.   PAUSE… Life often tries to cover it up, Whether on purpose or by circumstance. So many emotions pile on top, Making us forget it's a part of us.   PAUSE… You don't have to let that illusion stand, Don't have to let the happy memories fade. Instead, there are ways to reignite that joy, To let it wash over you regularly.   PAUSE… One of the best ways to make that happen Is to set your spirit free. Remember how much it loves to dance, And make space in your mind for the party.   PAUSE… Picture yourself really letting loose, Twirling merrily and showing off. Rattle the rafters and shake the walls, As you shimmy for all you're worth.   PAUSE… The music you hear can be anything, Whatever sets your soul on fire. See yourself dressed in bright, flowy clothes, Spinning, smiling and moving.   PAUSE… Throw back your head and kick up those heels, Feel the elation flow through your body. Whether you dance in your mind or out in the world, The thrill can be just the same.   PAUSE… The key is to make it a habit, To regularly seek out delight. Let the YOU within stay in touch with bliss, And the outer YOU will benefit too.   PAUSE… Once your heart gets a taste of that abandon, You'll find yourself looking for more. Moments that once felt ordinary, Will start to glow with possibility. PAUSE… It's crazy how easily we surrender to the darkness, How quickly we forget what we need. It takes effort and true dedication To stay in touch with our authenticity.   PAUSE… When you dance, you're as honest as you can be, Moving as one with your truth. So wobble, baby, wobble for all you're worth, And then explore whatever shakes loose.   PAUSE… There's no such thing as too much joy, And in fact, we're often deficient. The sooner you take steps to turn that around, The sooner music can fill you up.   PAUSE… Give yourself the pleasure you need. Ignore the voices that try to stop you. As often as you can, just dance, dance, dance, And let the bliss fall where it will.   Namaste, Beautiful

Bonus Content!Join host Lexi Duda as she goes On A Water Break In Rhinestones. She interviews twirlers from around the globe about their lives and experience. This episode Lexi has Marissa Pierce USTA College Champion and Feature Twirler for Michigan State University.This Week's GuestsMarissa Pierce - @mpierce11 & @msufeaturetwirlersListen to the main episode to keep up on everythinggoing on in the marching arts with our hosts:Jackie Brown - @spintronixguardStephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickCindy Barry - @leandermommaNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgTrevor Bailey - @t_pain151Trish O'Shea - @trishdish1002Beth Beccone - @bether7189Chris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click - @stephanieclickWhitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Ashley Tran - @itsashleytranJack Goudreau - @goudreau_Music provided by leydamusic.com Follow him @josh.leydaAvatars provided by @tch.makes.art#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #nbta #usta #missamerica #rhinestones #twirler #twirling

Join Premium! Ready for an ad-free meditation experience? Join Premium now and get every episode from ALL of our podcasts completely ad-free now! Just a few clicks makes it easy for you to listen on your favorite podcast player.  Become a PREMIUM member today by going to --> https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Melt into the magical place of sleep, Where your dreams can dance and play,  With no limits or boundaries,  And no one telling them what can't be. Tonight, dream about the possibilities. Lay your head down and close your eyes, And bring your attention here, Away from the end of the day thoughts floating around your mind, And into the presence of your body on your bed.  PAUSE… Connect to the motion of your breathing, Riding its waves coming up onto the shore as you breathe in, And falling back into the ocean as you breathe out, Breathe in, Breathe out. PAUSE… Let your arms and legs melt into your bed, Let your cheeks relax, Your shoulders drop, And your stomach soften.  Breathe, And sink deeper into relaxation. PAUSE… Anything is possible, my love. Let the limiting chains of the world break loose as you invite all the possibilities to enter your dreams tonight.  So they can play freely, Twirling and jumping and laughing in delicious delight.  PAUSE… Invite them in, All your desires, All your visions, All the wildest parts of your imagination. Bring them here to the night, And feel the warmth of their embrace. They want to heal you, Stretch you, Enliven you, And infuse you with magic. PAUSE… So breath slowly,  And feel the rhythm of the music, As you let your possibilities play. LONG PAUSE… Let your desires run free here, In the unbound pastures of dreamland. Surrender to melody, The movement, And all the possibilities. PAUSE… Let all judgements go, And all the rules dissolve away. No one gets to dictate your dance. There are no limits here. So dream, my love, About the incredible possibilities that exist for you here, And watch them transcend into your life.  Sweet Dreams, Beautiful

Temperatures are changing all around the country and you would think that the marching arts has moved INSIDE, but not this episodes. We are talking all things outside in December. Our special guest clinician this week is Kevin Welborn, Assistant Director for the University of Alabama Marching Band. From Holiday Parades to College Band to this thing called mummers, we have it all.GuestsKevin Welborn - @kevin_welborn & @uamilliondollarbandMeet our HostsJackie Brown - @spintronixguardStephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickCindy Barry - @leandermommaNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgTrevor Bailey - @t_pain151Trish O'Shea - @trishdish1002Beth Beccone - @bether7189Chris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click - @stephanieclickWhitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Ashley Tran - @itsashleytranJack Goudreau - @goudreau_Bill Woodward - @remoking100Music provided by leydamusic.com Follow him @josh.leydaAvatars provided by @tch.makes.artFeaturingLexi Duda - Host for On A Water Break In Rhinestones - The Stories of the Twirlers @lexi_dudaThank you also to @guardcloset#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #wgi #drumline

BestPodcastintheMetaverse.com Canary Cry News Talk #692 11.27.2023 - Recorded Live to 1s and 0s WHIMSICALLY SCRIPTURLY | Space War, 10 Alien Bodies, Killer AI, TrumpGPT, Media Literacy Deconstructing Corporate Mainstream Media News from a Biblical Worldview Declaring Jesus as Lord amidst the Fifth Generation War! The Show Operates on the Value 4 Value Model: http://CanaryCry.Support      Join the Supply Drop: https://CanaryCrySupplyDrop.com                                  Submit Articles: https://CanaryCry.Report                           Submit Art: https://CanaryCry.Art     Join the T-Shirt Council: https://CanaryCryTShirtCouncil.com Resource: Index of MSM Ownership (Harvard.edu) Resource: Aliens Demons Doc (feat. Dr. Heiser, Unseen Realm) Tree of Links: https://CanaryCry.Party   This Episode was Produced By: Executive Producers Sir LX Protocol V2 Knight of the Berrean Protocol*** Felica D*** JameyG***   Producers of Treasure Sir Marti K Knight of the Wrong Timeline Sir Jacob Hi-Line Hoss and Knight of the Issachar Pursuit DrWhoDunDat Sir Morv Knight of the Burning Chariots Sir Darren Knight of the Hungry Panda's Malik W Veronica D Sir Scott Knight of Truth Dame Gail Canary Whisperer and Lady of X's and O's Sir Casey the Shield Knight   Speakpipe James, SGLD   CanaryCry.ART Submissions LittleOwen JonathanF Sir Dove Knight of Rusbeltia Pizza Rat Mark A Elias   MICROFICTION Stephen S: BuyMyTek announced their AI robotic wearable, the Serpent. Inspired by nature, it gently coils around its friend providing comfort and absorbing  clean energy for its own power.  It softly whispers answers to life unending questions into her ears.    JOLMS: (Part 1/7) A cold and open outer space with the stars spread out vertically. Echoing a symphony of silence. They illuminate the ships. Twirling around each other. With battered hulls, shattered wings and iron debris swimming alongside them. Amidst them are the corpses. Frozen stiff. Limbs littering the halls of a once great communications central.   CLIP PRODUCER Emsworth, FaeLivrin, Joelms, Laura   TIMESTAPERS Jade Bouncerson, Morgan E   CanaryCry.Report Submissions JAM   REMINDERS Clankoniphius   SHOW NOTES/TIMESTAMPS T - 3:43 from D-Live   HELLO, RUN DOWN 6:40 V / 2:57 P BIBLICAL/SPACE FORCE 8:41 V / 4:58 P Humanity Just Witnessed Its First Space Battle (Gizmodo) → Daniel 11:37-29 → Revelation 13:13 → Jeremiah 50:9    ALIENS/DAYS OF NOAH 18:44 V / 15:01 P US has found ‘at least ten alien bodies in crashed UFOs' (MSN/Metro) → Dataism, Digital Aliens Gizmodo article, 2018   DAY JINGLE/V4V/EXEC./supply 33:35 V / 29:52 P   FLIPPY/AI/DRONES/IT WILL KILL 50:22 V / 46:39 P Pentagon moves Toward Killbots (Business insider) → Joel 2   TRUMP/AI/BEAST SYSTEM 1:01:58 V / 58:15 P Former Google engineer, Trump pardonee, Levandowski relaunches AI church (BI) Here's what happens if Donald Trump dies while running in the 2024 presidential election (BI)   AI/WORLDCOIN  1:14:030 V / 1:10:47 P Sam Altman returns to OpenAI (Time) OpenAI Employees, Chief Scientist Has Been Making Strange Spiritual Claims (Yahoo/futurism)   SPEAKPIPE/TALENT/TIME 1:30:29 V / 1:26:46 P   5GW/ALT MEDIA LITERACY 2:03:31 V / 1:59:48 P Media literacy k-12 in California (NPR) (Media Literacy Info CA.gov)   V4V/TIME 2:19:11 V / 2:15:28 P END

Join host Lexi Duda as she goes On A Water Break In Rhinestones. She interviews twirlers from around the globe about their lives and experience. This episode Lexi has Anna White from Clemson UniversityThis Week's GuestsAnna White - @cutigertwirlers - @annawhhite Listen to the main episode to keep up on everythinggoing on in the marching arts with our hosts:Jackie Brown - @spintronixguardCindy Barry - @leandermommaThom Shearer - @tshearer74Trevor Bailey - @t_pain151Whitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Beth Beccone - @bether7189Stephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgChris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click @stephanieclickTrish O'Shea - @trishdish1002#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #nbta #usta #missamerica #rhinestones #twirler #twirling

It's our 50th EPISODE Part 2!!!!!! We decided to do give you our 50 best performances of the year! This episode will have the second 25, so if you missed the first 25 go back and check it out! From DCI to WGI to College Band & Mummers, we have all the performances you need to go back and watch!Meet our HostsJackie Brown - @spintronixguardCindy Barry - @leandermommaThom Shearer - @tshearer74Trevor Bailey - @t_pain151Whitney Stone - @dancerwhitJustin Surface - @J_dex07Beth Beccone - @bether7189Stephen McCarrick - @stephenmccarickNicole Younger - @o2bnpjs & @thecookoutcgChris Rutt - @wildhornbrass1Cynthia Bernard - @cynthiabernAshlee Amos - @famousamossss_Theo Harrison - @harrisontheo07Stephanie Click - @stephanieclickTrish O'Shea - @trishdish1002FeaturingLexi Duda - Host for On A Water Break In Rhinestones - The Stories of the Twirlers @lexi_dudaThank you also to @guardcloset and @marchingartseducation#marchingband #colorguard #dci #podcast #onawaterbreak #wgi #drumline

Sport fan Hannah in County Down V's queen of the Baton Tracey in Basingstoke. Let's Go!

This week we watched the movie that got Johnny Depp discovered, A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). Join us as we discuss the dangers of sleeping in the bathtub and ol' reliable. "Whatever you do... don't fall asleep." --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/scaryqueens/support

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ours is an evil laugh.

Updates on Britney Spears' Instagram where she continues to twirl and write vague captions.Plus, Mike's Dirt Alert and Blind Items! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Updates on Britney Spears' Instagram where she continues to twirl and write vague captions. Plus, Mike's Dirt Alert and Blind Items! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

https://minorleaguestudios.com/ www.repcps.com Promo code NOONER will get you 10% off! Support a small biz and a small podcast! https://linktr.ee/Noonernation #britneyspears #divorce #crazy

Hey, it's Katie and I want to welcome you to this special bonus episode. It'll be here for you completely ad-free for the next week so you can get a feel of what it's like to be a PREMIUM member. If you'd like an easy ad-free experience for all of our podcasts - that's over 200 episodes each month, then JOIN PREMIUM today at https://WomensMeditationNetwork.com/premium Lay your head down and close your eyes, And bring your attention here, Away from the end of the day thoughts floating around your mind, And into the presence of your body on your bed.  PAUSE… Connect to the motion of your breathing, Riding its waves coming up onto the shore as you breathe in, And falling back into the ocean as you breathe out, Breathe in, Breathe out. PAUSE… Let your arms and legs melt into your bed, Let your cheeks relax, Your shoulders drop, And your stomach soften.  Breathe, And sink deeper into relaxation. PAUSE… Anything is possible, my love. Let the limiting chains of the world break loose as you invite all the possibilities to enter your dreams tonight.  So they can play freely, Twirling and jumping and laughing in delicious delight.  PAUSE… Invite them in, All your desires, All your visions, All the wildest parts of your imagination. Bring them here to the night, And feel the warmth of their embrace. They want to heal you, Stretch you, Enliven you, And infuse you with magic. PAUSE… So breath slowly,  And feel the rhythm of the music, As you let your possibilities play. LONG PAUSE… Let your desires run free here, In the unbound pastures of dreamland. Surrender to melody, The movement, And all the possibilities. PAUSE… Let all judgements go, And all the rules dissolve away. No one gets to dictate your dance. There are no limits here. So dream, my love, About the incredible possibilities that exist for you here, And watch them transcend into your life.  Sweet Dreams, Beautiful  

With no preparation and last minute coordination, the drive-time Remnant format returns. Today's pointlessly random audio adventure covers Biden's polarizing speech in Philadelphia, Jonah's unique theory of what happened at Mar-a-Lago, and the dark connection between fast food magnates and conservative think tanks. Musings on TV, movies, and the strange nature of the solo Ruminant are also mixed in. Plus, stick around until the end for some breaking news about The Dispatch. Show Notes:- Biden's Philadelphia speech- Marc Thiessen: “Biden is disgracing the institution of the prime-time presidential address”- Jimmy Carter's malaise speech- The gap between Trump and his lawyers- Michael D. Higgins…- …and his dogs- The Thailand cave rescue