39 Responses to “October’s Contest: Girl Saves Boy”

1. AJ Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 1:56 am

   1 Do we email you the entries?

2. Lorelie Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 2:14 am

   2 Nope, you post them here, AJ.

3. Ann Bruce Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 5:15 am

   3 Bam, you could just reread LKH AB#1-9. (Hehe.)

4. Jambrea Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 6:26 am

   4 Here is what I came up with. I had to cut some to make it 402 words. This was all her fault. She knew they would come after Jack. She should have been prepared. She slipped around the corner with her gun drawn. She didn’t see anyone, but she saw a window near the back of the warehouse. Staying in the shadows Megan crept to the window. This just seems too easy she thought to her self. She peered into the window and saw Jack tied up in a chair with no one around him. This has to be a trap. Megan jumped quietly off the creates and crouched down behind them. Megan heard a sound coming from behind her. She pulled the knife out of its sheath, dropped to her belly and snaked her way toward the sound with both gun and knife at the ready. She needed to get the jump on him before he could alert the others. She was close enough to see the guy had a gun, but it didn’t look like he had a walkie-talkie. She sprang out of the shadows right in front of the guy with the gun. He looked surprised and she used it to her advantage. She cold cocked him with the gun to his temple. Luck and was on her side. The guy fell. She quickly pulled him into the shadows, relived him of his gun and looked for something to tie him up with. Megan crept around the building trying to find more men. Maybe they weren’t expecting her so soon because she didn’t find anyone. It was time to go into the building. She looped back around to the back of the building and went through the doors. They made a small creaking sound. She held her breath. She didn’t hear anything else so she walked into the building. She saw two men walking around. It was now or never. She fired her first shot at the man to her left. She hit him square between the eyes. She ducked and rolled trying to evade the other guy’s fire. She pulled off another round. She hit the second guy in the leg. He was down. She ran to the fallen man and kicked him in the head. He wasn’t going anywhere. She headed straight for Jack using what cover she could. She didn’t hear anymore shots. She just couldn’t be this lucky. She wasn’t. There was guy standing by Jack with a gun to his head.

5. shuzluva Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 9:58 am

   5 I am sick of reading about dudes […] bragging about their three-thousand-dollar Ralph Lauren Black Label jackets— while the females in the story simpered and shook like a wet chihuahua Well, now I know you weren’t writing as you promised this past weekend. Goddamned JR Ward.

6. bam Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 10:12 am

   6 Author Comment Well, now I know you weren’t writing as you promised this past weekend. pwnd! I wrote 10 paragraphs. I’ll send it to you as soon as I can!

7. Ann Aguirre Posted: Oct 1st, 2007 at 3:04 pm

   7 Oooh, more for me to read. *rubs hands together* This should be some good stuff.

8. lisabea Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 6:20 am

   8 Ok. Never done this, but since I’m at home recooping, I’ve got nothing better to do…. Creeping the length of the porch in her battered converse, Missy tried to keep her breathing under control. In. Out. Soft. Quiet. She knew Bob waited for her in her mother’s kitchen. Tied up, bleeding, probably gagged by that whore Daniel. She was just relieved that the lights were off. It was damned dark on the back porch and her parent’s debris littered her path. But she continued moving, silently. Breathing carefully. How Daniel had sweet talked his tight little ass into her parent’s house, taking Bob by surprise, she didn’t know. But she could damn well guess. Bob’s weakness for pretty men was getting in the way. She was so going to kick his ass once she saved it. The back porch door was opened, though the screen door was shut. Missy could see Bob’s big still body spread out on the yellow tile of her mother’s kitchen. His hands tied tightly behind him. His feet, however, were free. It was apparent that he was either passed out or playing possum with his closed eyes and slack mouth. Missy knew Daniel was in there, waiting for her. She carefully pulled her bag from her shoulder, letting it fall without sound to the porch and, with furtive looks through the door, searched for her lighter. That bitch was going to fry. Rooting in her bag, her fingers felt for her mom’s special and previously useless gift to her. The small canister cold and smooth in her hand. Got it. A door slammed in the hall behind Bob and she saw him flinch. Daniel’s slim form came up the hall. His jeans were torn, his face bruised, a fucking hickey on his neck. Goddamn Bob. He always chose the worst possible men. He should have waited for her. She knew what he liked and when he needed it. She would have enjoyed it. He needed to get with the program and quit sneaking around behind her back. Missy rose to her feet as Daniel came into the kitchen. He couldn’t see her, she knew. The darkness protected her. She toed a Pepsi can by the back door, rolling it down the steps with a clanking, tinny fall that had to be investigated. The light flipped on. As Daniel’s face appeared through the screen Missy sparked her lighter and blasted the mother fucker in the face with an arcing inferno of FDS. She was going to kick his ass.

9. Kerry Allen Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 6:40 am

   9 “Hey, Einstein. The barbarians breached the gate. Some security system.” “That’s a privacy fence,” he said of the twenty-foot stone wall topped with bales of electrified razor wire, “not security.” She pointed the muzzle of her Sig Sauer out a gap in the window and squeezed off a shot. A shadow on one of the monitors in front of him fell flat. He scanned the remaining screens fed by cameras mounted throughout the grounds. “I have visual on five more.” “I see eight. How cute. They found matching ninja costumes.” Three more shots. The three shadows he wasn’t spotting, apparently. A third of the cameras were offline, along with crucial portions of the electronic security system. She withdrew from the window and quietly crossed the office in sneaker-clad feet. Thigh-high leather boots would better suit her personality, but he supposed those were impractical for ass kicking outside the pages of a comic book, as were breasts the size of watermelons. She wouldn’t be distracting the bad guys with her nonexistent cleavage, but the arsenal strapped to her compact body should get their attention just as well. His chivalry was pricked that she was going to face them alone, but he knew firing a gun in real life wasn’t as easy as it was in video games. Killing was a job better left to the professionals, like her. “Should I kiss my ass goodbye?” “Do your geek thing and let me worry about your ass.” She left to do her job, and he bent over the keyboard to do his, wresting control of the system away from the geek the intruders had working for them, stopping once to wipe his sweaty palms. They wouldn’t be shooting if she’d fallen. If it was quiet, he’d have cause to worry. Silence fell. She strode through the door, ramming a fresh clip into her gun. “Progress?” He found his breath, and the right string of code. Titanium shields slid across the door and windows, clunking into place with a hiss of gas. “We are locked down.” Then she was in his arms, mouth soft and surprised under his. He took his time exploring her lips, figuring she’d gut him where he stood when her shock wore off. When he raised his head and she merely arched a brow at him, he took it as a good sign. “Now, about your interest in my ass…”

10. Kerry Allen Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 6:52 am

    10 I had to cut the exchange about the geek inheriting the earth, but they’ll need strong women to defend them from predators and bear their four-eyed, egg-headed children. You’re killing me with the word count.

11. Lorelie Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 8:07 am

    11 Five spit mean McCabe brothers spilled out of their truck like wild dogs, pushing past and snapping at each other. From inside the house, Liza could barely see Jonas in the deep shadows of the porch. He stood calmly on the top step, his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. An easy smile lifted his lips and he seemed relaxed, with his suspenders down and empty hands. Typical Jonas thought he could talk his way out of anything, but he was new to the area. The McCabes were always armed. True to form, three of them carried baseball bats. Liza would not wait and watch the disaster unfold. She snatched a gun from the cabinet and stomped into the hallway. The front door tossed open with enough force to crack the knob into plaster. “Well lookee here,” said Abe, the eldest McCabe. A length of chain dangled from his hand. “Been fucking Wynan, have ya?” “Watch your mouth around the lady,” Jonas snapped. “Fuck you and your slut,” retorted Ryan, the youngest, smallest, most rattlesnake mean brother. Jonas’ face lost all expression and he balled his hands up into huge fists. He’d still be no match for five armed louts. “Now, now, that’s not the issue here. We want our land back. That means you have to leave, Wynan.” “Shoulda paid your mortgage to begin with.” “Not good enough. Boys-“ She pulled the shotgun from behind her skirts and lifted it to her shoulder. “Stop right there,” Liza said. The men froze. “We don’t aim to hurt y’all. We just want what’s ours.” Jimmy spoke, the only halfway decent McCabe. “Bless your heart, I do believe you mean that. You never were the sharpest knife in the drawer, now were you?” “You don’t even know how to use that thing.” Abe jangled his chain. “Think about that. I was raised ‘round here, same as you.” She cranked the lever action. “I’m aimed right at your guts. You might live. ‘Course, we’re twenty miles out from town and it’s Saturday night. Doc Taylor’s prolly drunk already.” Abe’s adams apple bob. His eyes darted back and forth from her and Jonas to the men circled around him. Liza’s breath wrapped tight in her throat. If Abe broke, they’d all scatter. Abruptly, Abe turned and hopped in the truck. “We’ll be back,” he said to Jonas. “Sometime when you’re not hiding behind a whore’s skirts.”

12. Lorelie Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 8:07 am

    12 Ya know, I had to cut 100 words but I think it’s better for it.

13. Billie Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 12:23 pm

    13 Hey Bam, speaking of kickass girls, I bet you would love Quinton Tarantino’s new flick “Death Proof!”

14. Tumperkin Posted: Oct 2nd, 2007 at 1:48 pm

    14 Oooo - I’m liking some of these entries ’spesh lisabea and kerry! Declaring myself well and truly out, this month.

15. Wicked Writes Posted: Oct 3rd, 2007 at 2:43 pm

    15 Word Count: 342 They had all acted like she was a lottery winner when she had married him. Her wedding day was mostly spent fending off old ladies and obscure relatives with their patronising words making her feel even more inadequate. “Harry Kwon is a rich, successful man. You are so lucky to be his wife!” They condescended to tell her. “Aren’t you grateful to have him, dear?” “What a catch! We never thought you’d get anybody let alone Harry.” They patted her hands and looked at her with knowing eyes. She had clenched her jaw shut so tightly it ached throughout the honeymoon. Well, look who was so lucky now! Libby Kwon used her heeled boot to restrain the man and held him down firmly while she put her husband’s pliers to good use. The sound of a fingernail being ripped from its bed and then destroyed under her feet was like a bug being crunched and the man screamed in pain and fury. “I won’t ask you again. Where the hell is my husband?” The man trembled before her and cried like a baby. ”I don’t know, lady. Jeez, I don’t know!” He sobbed. She glared at him and got to work on the next fingernail. She felt not one iota of pity for the man. They had come into her home and snatched her husband like they had ever right. Well now they knew Harry Kwon was no kidnappers bitch. The man’s hand was shaking so violently it made pulling his nail loose a chore. Libby had to bear down on her tool and wiggle the little sucker free with hard, sharp yanking motions. It finally came off and she felt quite accomplished. The tearing didn’t do it but as soon as she stomped on the now defunct fingernail, the man wept as though the world were ending and spilled everything. Libby smiled and left him in a crumpled heap. Now she knew where Harry was, she could rescue him and the dishes would finally get washed. Libby wondered what their relatives would say now…

16. Crystal Posted: Oct 3rd, 2007 at 11:16 pm

    16 …This is my first one, so don’t be too hard on me, okay? *pouts* Tia couldn’t believe her husband had put her in this position. Here she was, hiding in the crawlspace with her two little girls. She could hear the men upstairs rummaging through her things and screaming at her husband, “Where is it?” What were they looking for? The girls were crying, and she couldn’t blame them. As she tried to calm them down, she noticed the light peeking through the door reflect off something metal at the back of the tiny closet. She reached out in the darkness and brushed her fingers upon her husband’s old Louisville Slugger. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself as she hefted the bat into her arms. She kissed her girls telling them to stay put then she silently left her children behind. Around the corner, into the living room, she saw three men dressed in black. Big men. Her husband was on the ground, coughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he cried. With a stealth that surprised even herself, Tia made her way into the kitchen. She grabbed a large copper pot in her left hand and scrambled to the door next to the hallway before tossing it to the other side of the room, as noisily as she could. Then it was silent. A moment later, the swinging door slowly opened and she readied herself to attack. The biggest man came into view, gun pointed, and she lunged at his back. She held the bat in front of him, against his neck, and squeezed with all her might. He dropped the gun, and not too soon after, he went down after it. She released the bat and rose to her feet, picking up the gun, then headed back to the living room. “Tommy?” a stranger called. “Nope,” she whispered as she stepped into the room, gun cocked. But the men didn’t have a chance. She fired two shots, that was all she needed. She shot the remaining assassins between the eyes. Tia walked over to her husband, taking in his bloodied face and clothes. “I’m really tired of saving your ass.” And with that, she raised the gun once more, and blew away the man she once loved.

17. Rainbow Tea Posted: Oct 4th, 2007 at 2:20 am

    17 “You can’t take that.” Honey stated in a flat voice that was past patience. Raphael had long ago sprinted across that line. Correction; Raphael did not sprint. He wandered. Aimlessly. He looked at the painting. Then at her. Finally something inside his head clicked. “You mean I can’t take it?” “No.” She sucked in air between her teeth. The bandaged wound at her side throbbed mockingly, a constant burn. The man looked so damn disappointed, like a puppy that had gotten tossed out on its ass into the raining streets. “But it’s my masterpiece-“ “They are not going to destroy it. It’ll be here. Later. When you come back.” If the men they were running from didn’t catch them first. The thought made her ill. She genuinely liked Raphael, felt flattered when he’d start studying her and declare with confidence that she was beautiful. What woman didn’t appreciate a heartfelt compliment? She snapped out of her thoughts and straightened up. Carefully she parted the curtains to have a look at the parking lot below the studio. It was still empty save for their pulverized Hybrid. It’d taken a thorough beating. The trunk was completely crushed, the victim of repeated ramming. “These people are serious, we need to-“ Honey stopped, the curtain falling from her fingers. Raphael’s vaguely too-handsome blue eyes and messy brown hair were reflecting on the glass. Irritation flared up and threatened to melt her cool. “Why are you still standing there? You can’t take the damn painting. Go and get the document from the safe.” The artist hesitated. Long enough that Honey pivoted to face him with all intentions of forcing him physically to open up the safe box. Time was an expensive commodity and- “You’re beautiful.” “Thanks, now move.” She urged, glancing towards the door. Locked. Bolted shut. He left the room and something made her look down at her hands. They were tinted with dried blood. Not her own. Chunks of skin remained under her fingernails from when she’d had to literally scratch her way out of a scuffle. Honey fisted them, knowing Raphael had never guessed that she was capable of such violence. And yet he still thinks I’m beautiful. Crazy idiot. Honey almost smiled, mouth softening. Frankly it was a stupid idea to care about flaky Raphael – but it was too late. Now she had to keep him safe.

18. clare Posted: Oct 4th, 2007 at 10:28 am

    18 I totally failed with the 400word limit. Cut back over 100 but still over with 479words. Still I had fun writing it so I’m posting it anyway, hope it entertains ‘You’re rescuing me?’ Sam looked up at the breathy whisper. ‘No, I’m sucking you off!’ Eyelevel to his crotch she stared straight ahead, until he shift uneasily against his restraints, then shot her eyes up to meet the bloodshot blues that studied her. ‘You’re captive, we’re surrounded by a dozen heavily armed, trigger-happy gorillas. Try and loose the stupid, huh?’ ‘But you’re a..’ ‘Woman with a knife?’ ‘A girl’ he groaned as the knife sawed through rope, releasing his ankles with a snap. ‘Trust me, I’ll hold off playing with my Barbie’s until I’m home, Ken’ She scooted under the chair, swivelling her body to reach up and start on the rope tethering his wrists. Grinning at a muted explosion and voices leading away from them. ‘A troop?’ his voice was hoarse, but conveyed his hope of army back-up and her a P.C. gimmick. There really wasn’t time or inclination to bring him up to speed. ‘Fireworks’ Sam hissed ‘Now move’ He rubbed sore wrists as she stood. A lithe shimmy from under the chair to her full less than impressive height, canvas flats offering no added inches. The man beside her was more the gist of stories tall, broad. Handsome if you went for the battered and bleeding look; the bruise on his jaw was the prettiest colour purple she’d seen. Filing the image of herself marching him into the nearest hardware store for a match the colour paint pot, Sam scanned the warehouse. Quiet, wooden boxes in haphazard stacks. She tensed at a heavy hand on her shoulder. Managed to stop herself projecting jelly legs into outer space. Blood was pounding back where rope had cut circulation, his hands were swelling and he swayed like a drunk at Sunday soup line, didn’t smell much better. ‘Keep your eyes on my delectable arse, and haul it Ken-doll’ She slunk through the still room and led the way behind the furthest crates, cringing as he stumbled in her wake. Sam slid through the opening she’d made in the boards then tugged him through behind her. ‘Yeah baby, bulging muscles, great help for crawling through mouse holes!’ ‘Wha…?’ Finger to his lips she didn’t let him finish. To late. A dark form barged over at a flat out run, machine gun angling in on their position. Anti-climax really. Her gun already focused, made short work of the thug and scarce noise. From then on her shadow followed without complaint. As fireworks drew away the bad guys and prettied up the sky they high tailed it though the forest to the small air strip and waiting helicopter. ‘Who the hell are you?’ It was asked with the deepest admiration as she flicked switches and nosed the helo up. She took a moment to loosen her hair, dark velvet curtaining down about her shoulders. ‘Your knight in shining aviation’ she smirked, winking.

19. Miss Jessien Posted: Oct 4th, 2007 at 2:42 pm

    19 First timer - but this was just too much fun - get idea. Go easy on me. Word count: 400 Kit hugged the shadows as she crept along the side of the barn gripping the small tranquilizer gun - blood boiling at the thought of that slimeball Marquette somewhere nearby. Leaning around the corner she could see the fallen body of the security guard near Pride’s stall and Marquette standing over him. Gasoline fumes drifted toward her. “Sonavabitch,” she growled. The guard stirred and Kit recognized him as the cutie who’d scoped her ass during morning workout. Marquette leveled his gun at him. “Shouda let yourself burn,” he chuckled. Kit sprang forward. Years of riding rowdy colts had made her petite frame quick and nimble. The guard lurched back in confusion as Marquette went limply to the ground - a tranquilizer dart in his neck. “You shot him!” the cutie stammered. “Better him than you,” Kit brushed past to the stall. Pride nickered. “What was he doing?” He rubbed his head. “Torching the place for insurance,” Kit spat. He whipped around at the stall opening. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I’m taking him,” she said flatly. “No one is hurting Pride, and you can’t stop me.” Laughing, he crossed his arms. “I beg to differ.” “Well,” she snickered. “If you want to get knocked out again - that’s your decision.” He colored and started forward, but she dodged back throwing a wide punch. He grabbed her wrist – the momentum thrusting her against him. Right where she wanted him. With a practiced movement she hooked her leg around his, twisting hard, sending them to the ground. He groaned and his muscles bunching tightly underneath her as she lay atop him. He braced on one elbow, but stopped as her hands pressed against his shoulders. Blue eyes moved to hers, then to her mouth. Unconsciously her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, and she closed the space between them. He responded slowly – surprised – but soon was hotly kissing back with no lack of enthusiasm or talent. Hook, line, and sinker. Gradually she slid her knee upward along the inside of his thigh - while deepening the kiss - running her hands up his arms taking them together above his head. He inhaled sharply as her knee grazed his groin then froze at the snick of metal on metal. He jerked his hands, but the cuffs held fast. She sucked his bottom lip, then stood with a sensuous grin. “Sorry slick.”

20. Rae Posted: Oct 4th, 2007 at 9:02 pm

    20 I like a little underdog in my heroine, and what is more underdog than scientist turns Lara Croft? Hope you like (it’s only my second entry on here ever) Word Count: 399 Okay, so she wasn’t the Bionic Woman. Or Buffy. But damnit, she had a gun and she knew how to use it. Sort of. Go, go, Speedracer, Mare thought. She had adrenaline and brains—she hoped that was a lethal combination. She wasn’t the Lara-Croft-guns-blazing type, but she could outsmart a pair of goons, right? Sure. She peeked into the glass-fronted lab and winced at the blood dripping from her boss’s nose and the welts that would soon be bruises. She knew the bad guys. The Auditors. Playing games with her head all week, asking if she was sure she’d recorded every calculation correctly for the nanotechnology that she was heading the development of—nanotechnology that, it looked like, the two goons would be jacking from her now that it was complete. “Auditors my ass,” Mare mumbled, re-checking the semi-automatic. She could take the fake third degree she’d received, and deal with them jacking five years of work, but if anyone had dibs on kicking Jake Montgomery’s ass, it was her. The man was a dense, albeit gorgeous, pain-in-the-ass. Gorgeous enough she wouldn’t hit him in the face. Damn unrequited lov—lust, she meant lust. The goons exited the room and she ducked into a doorway until their footsteps had retreated to silence. She slipped into the room where Jake Montgomery was unsuccessfully pulling himself off the floor. “What the hell are you doing, Mare?” Jake hissed. “Saving your ass.” She regarded him silently once he was upright. “You swear you aren’t in on this? Because I know how to use this.” She waved the gun and almost believed herself. He held her face and looked her in the eye, “I’m not in on this.” Luckily for him, she knew he was telling the truth. She half dragged him down the hallway, nearly clearing the emergency exit before a warning shot hit the ceiling. Mare turned, and with one lucky shot sent Tweedle-Dee stumbling into Tweedle-Dum—buying her and Jake enough time to stagger downstairs and out to her waiting car. Minutes ticked by as they drove in silence, “You owe me big.” “Anything.” Jake turned her face to his, pressing his lips hard against hers. “Anything, Mare.” Mare felt one corner of her mouth curl at his attempt to regain a bit of ego at being saved by a girl. Maybe Jake Montgomery wasn’t so dense after all.

21. pingback: Posted: Oct 4th, 2007 at 9:07 pm

    21 Balls and Walnuts - more than you ever wanted to know » Butt Cleavage Heaven […] Yeah, you knew I wouldn’t do that to you, not even for prime butt crack. Tonight, I think I’ll pimp Bam’s contest, even though I don’t have an entry and Bam never visits me anymore. Lovely idea: I am sick of reading about dudes busting down doors, waving around semi-automatics, bragging about their three-thousand-dollar Ralph Lauren Black Label jackets— while the females in the story simpered and shook like a wet chihuahua and waited for the loud-mouth braggart hero to save her. The theme of this month’s contest? Two words: Kickass. Heroine. You want FIFTY AMAZON BUX!! (USD)? Here’s what you gotta do. In 400 words or less, write me a short little scene (or story) featuring a harsh, uncompromising, kickass female (think Gina Torres in Firefly or Angelina Jolie in Mr and Mrs. Smith) saving the precious, taut hiney of your male love interest. […]

22. Bettie Posted: Oct 5th, 2007 at 5:37 pm

    22 401 words. Not a contest entry, just for fun. I’ve been in a steam-punk / comic book frame of mind, lately. ________________________________ “I don’t care that she’s the daughter of a Duke; she’s no lady.” Sir Charles Harsington frowned as he watched Lady Regina Borealis shout obscenity-laden orders at her crew. “Look at her—she’s shameless. She stomps around in those tall boots with her pistols and her pantaloons, heedless of the way such masculine attire reveals her limbs. She has the swagger of a pirate, and manners to match.” “And she has the fastest airship in the sky.” Chamberlain interrupted. “There must be another for hire.” Harsington squinted into the setting sun and surveyed the airfield’s motley assortment of listing dirigibles. “The Teutonian Ambassador will kill to regain those blueprints. We must leave soon; our options are limited.” “Thought I recognized that stiff-legged walk,” the aviatrix called as she strode toward them. She wore an airman’s gray leathers from the crown of her helmet to the tip of her steel-toed boots. She’d a bullwhip, a revolver, and two-dozen spare rounds attached to the belt slung across her lush hips; and strapped to her back was a sort of steel-plated rucksack with a holstered hose protruding from one side. She stuck out her hand and said, “How’re you doing, Charlie? Still got that stick up your ass?” “You two are acquainted?” Chamberlain gaped. “Sure,” Reggie answered with easy humor. “We were engaged, once.” “Lady Regina, we’re in dire need of transport home—” KABOOM!!! Chamberlain’s attempt at charm was interrupted by a violent explosion, which heralded the approach of a smoke-spewing armored velocimotive bearing twenty Teutonian mercenaries. Harsington and Chamberlain immediately opened fire with their sidearms, but bullets did little to slow the steel-plated monster. “Stop shooting, you’re wasting ammo!” Reggie stepped between them, unholstered the hose from her rucksack, and lowered her tinted goggles. “Charlie, let me handle this.” “I won’t let a woman fight my battles!” “Nobody asked you. Now, close your eyes and think of Angland. This’ll be over before you know it.” She braced her feet in a wide-legged stance, pointed the nozzle at the approaching velocimotive, and applied the trigger. When the spots cleared from Harsington’s vision, there was nothing left of the velocimotive but a charred stain on the tarmac. “You killed them!” She shrugged. “Why else would I use an Electromagnetic Transversion cannon? Let’s board the ship.” “Reggie?” “Yes?” “Thank you.” She smiled and Harsington remembered why he’d loved her. “From now on, call me Captain.”

23. Doug Posted: Oct 7th, 2007 at 9:34 am

    23 You need some background. Bare Rump is a ten-foot-long sentient spider. Argh is five-foot-long sentient fly. While on the run together, they are menaced by a swarm of humongous, bad-ass killer wasps (mugwasps). Bare Rump has had just enough time to dig a hole for shelter, but it’s not big enough for the both of them. Bare Rump and Argh have pet names for one another: he calls her Tina, and she calls him Lord Valor. There’s more fighting in the scene that follows (from Bare Rump’s POV), but this is all I had room for *** Someone kicked him in the butt. Again. “Into the excavation, Lord Valor,” said Tina. “You have little time.” “Wait,” he said. “Where are you going to hide?” “I’ll be on top. You’ll be safe. Now, hurry!” It couldn’t end this way. He should be he meat shield, not Tina. But how could he get her to understand that? He acted from one of those primal impulses that would doubtless swell into tumescent action whenever a female with a delightfully plump abdomen repeatedly called him Lord Valor; he grabbed the nearest big rock, raised it as high as he could, and brought it down on Tina’s head. “Ow,” she said, rubbing herself with a front leg. “You’re not unconscious.” She scuttled behind him, rolled him into the burrow, and covered him with her body. “Admirable, whatever you were trying to do,” she said, “but I’m not defenseless.” Eight beady eyes stared down at him. “You’re upside down,” he said. The mugwasps’ roar grew to an angry whine, and Tina flew into motion, spinning clockwise and widdershins, her hairs scratching pleasantly against his abdomen. Impact after impact rocked them together like lovers on a train. What a story for my grandwigglers. At last, the situation began to penetrate his fly brain. If they picked her off of him, he’d be the next item on the menu. Her tempo increased to an even more frenetic pace. Argh had time for only one panicky thought (she’s in trouble!) before her glorious brown abdomen, the object of his admittedly outré fantasy life, swung at him like a policeman’s sap, struck him between the eyes, and drove him past the point of caring.

24. SweetNSourGirl Posted: Oct 9th, 2007 at 2:37 pm

    24 Took me awhile to write this one and make it (exactly) 400 words. Hope you enjoy it! Rain beat down on me in needles. It didn’t help that I was sitting in a pine tree staring at a shack where a guy was being tortured. It had crossed my mind several times to leave the heatless, misogynistic bastard behind and let him lie in his own grave. I jumped down to the soggy earth, my boots sucked into the ground. Thunder clapped behind me. Dave screamed when the thunder didn’t drown it out. Hail thumped against my head adding to my anger. I shouldn’t have to deal with the repercussions of someone else’s stupidity. WHAM! My boot met the door in a violent kiss, shards of wood scattered across the floor. Three guys taller than me stood over Nate, who was strapped to a wooden chair. I roundhouse kicked one to the ground. “Bitch,” he mumbled. My fists met their faces. WHAM! “Get out before I kill you all,” I snarled. They scampered towards the door before a voice told them to stop. Stepping into the light, I could make out his features. Son of a bitch, he was still alive. “Gabrielle van Helsing, what a most unpleasant surprise,” Simon van Horton said. “You know we have blood claim on this one.” “His name is Dave, asshole,” I snapped. “You have nothing on him. He’s a moron. Give him a break.” “Doubtful, Gabrielle,” Simon said. “Perhaps we can strike a deal.” I crossed my arms. “I don’t make deals with devils.” “Perhaps I should kill him.” “Yes, because you don’t have a bad enough reputation. I didn’t know you wanted to add innocent idiot killer to your long resume.” A wicked smile played over his lips. “I’d very much like to add ‘slayer of van Helsing’ on it.” “In your dreams,” I felt for the ace up my sleeve. I whipped out a jar of holy water and flung it at his face. Simon dropped to his knees screaming. I ran over to Dave and untied him, fumbling with the rope. Blood seeped from his face in small tiger stripes. I dragged him out by the wrists, his feet stumbling over the soggy ground. “Gabby, what’s going on?” he slurred. “You’re a dumbass, that’s what,” I said as soon as we were far enough away. “What the hell were you thinking selling fairy dust to demons?” “Demons?” Shit. I’d never been good at that whole discretion thing.

25. David Jebb Posted: Oct 10th, 2007 at 5:25 am

    25 I’ve never posted before, but I couldn’t resist this contest, hehe. I read your website most days, as you never fail to make me laugh. Managed to get it to just under 400, so here goes. Be kind. Zhen Saves The Professor word count: 397 Just my luck, thought Zhen as the guard’s brains splattered all over her sythe-leath body-coating. I keep myself aloof, never get too close. And then what happened? I go and fall in love with Professor Anton Ranjad, the brightest star in the Coalition Army’s scientific development division, that’s what happened! Who then got kidnapped by the Imperium for what was in his brain. His design for the Exact Probability Definition Engine, or EPDE, which predicted, with the slimmest error margin, the immediate future. Such an invention would make war obsolete and give immense power to whoever held it in their grasp. Zhen didn’t really give a damn for the EPDE. She just wanted the Professor. She plucked the guard’s eye from what her blaster had left of his head and passed it over the retina-scan. The doors slid open and Zhen leapt to the ceiling, where she clung upside down thanks to microscopic filaments all over her body-coating. A fine layer of anti-light fibres also hid her from cameras. A pity, then, that the gorilla-sized guard on the ground had a movement sensor-net attached to his goggles. “What have we here? A little spider?” he laughed. He fired once against the ceiling, catching Zhen on her side. She fell to the ground, but jumped to her feet a nanosecond later, ready to attack. She dodged another laser blast, but was grabbed by a meaty hand and pulled into the air by her throat. “I’m gonna pull your legs off, little spider,” he said, his rancid breath wafting in her face. Zhen wasted no time. She flexed her left middle toe and a curved blade flicked out from her boot. With one slash, the gorilla guard lay on the floor, blood oozing from his neck. She produced a long device with a needle on one end and a voice-box on the other. A mind-speaker. She thrust the needle into his forehead and said: “What the code to Ranjad’s cell?” “Zero Alpha Nine Four Seven Zeta.” A few seconds later, Ranjad’s battered but still handsome face looked up and smiled as his cell doors slid open and Zhen walked in holding a blaster with a red-hot glowing barrel. She smiled back. “On your feet, prof. Let me get you back in one piece, so you can peel this damn body-covering off. I haven’t been out of it for days!”

26. Kelly McCrady Posted: Oct 10th, 2007 at 2:03 pm

    26 “Cover me.” Gretel rose from her crouch. “I’m out.” John grabbed her hip and showed her the open .45. “Don’t you carry extra?” “One in each pocket. Where am I supposed to carry more, in my ass?” “You might like it.” She recalculated the distance to the next crate. “Stay down.” One diving roll spun her across the empty aisle. Red bolts of energy followed. A blast of fetid breath wafted past. Scuffling and a shout from behind dropped her heart into her stomach. “Gretel!” How did it get behind them? She whirled. John dangled from grotesque, two-fingered fists. Feet peddling the air, trying to pry blood-purple claws away from his ribs, he failed to notice he could kick the beast in two vital areas. Swearing, she charged. With its hands busy, the thing only drooled in her direction, unprepared for the swing of her staff. “Duck, babe!” The first hit thudded upside its thick skull. Spinning the staff over their heads, she brought the opposite end down on the monster’s arm. Crack! The demon howled—and so did John as it squeezed him harder. She brought the first end up into its ribs. She didn’t dare look at John. As long as he kept kicking and yelling, she knew he was alive. The beast took a step toward her, letting go of the FBI man with one hammy fist. Gretel aimed the end of her staff like a pool cue and pounded it into the blackened flesh of the demon’s face. A blinding flash split the warehouse darkness as the magnesium endcap broke in the creature’s mouth. John dropped to the cement, rolling away from the dissolving, burning creature, leaving bloody tracks. She stepped in front of him, blinking from the bright flash, but no further threat manifested. From the floor, John’s voice shook. “You forgot to mention I wasn’t shooting at a human-sized assailant. I think it broke my ribs.” He winced, eyes dilated, face pale and hands shaking. She lifted his bloody shirt. Superficial cuts bled, and bruising purpled his ribs. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Light stubble scraped her lips. When his hand found her breast, she knew he would be okay. “Pussy,” she said. “Let’s scram before any of its friends show up.” “There are more?” John rolled to his feet and jogged after her. “And I’m not a pussy!”

27. SweetNSourGirl Posted: Oct 10th, 2007 at 3:08 pm

    27 Err…had a typo, his name’s Samuel not Simon. Sorry.

28. Lo Posted: Oct 12th, 2007 at 4:59 am

    28 She locked him in the dungeon with the instructions to blast the music, whatever he liked, just as long as it was loud. He chose Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus,” appropriately enough. Donning the uniform and blue blockers, Kali stiffened her stance and swayed from heel to heel over to the door, feeling the handcuffs swish against her hips with each step. Klop, klop, klop, she pounded authoritatively upon the hardwood. “Open up! Open up in there! Neighbors been complaining ‘bout too much noise.” Klop, klop. “I saiid open up! Don’t make me break this door down . . .” Some lazy shuffling and Hunter peered from the cracked door beneath the chain lock (right word??) A loud chuckle. “What chu want, ma’am?” He’d lit a fag and was blowing smoke right in her face. “As I said, you yellow-bellied, chain-smoking redneck, you’ve got to keep it down. There’s other folks on this block ya know.” “I do know that. Say now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing bangin’ on people’s doors? I thought you’d be doing another type of banging . . .” In a smooth, swift motion she kicked the door down, pelting Hunter in the forehead, knocking the cigarette out of his hand and landing him flat on his ass. “Oh really?” she retorted, “We’ll see who gets banged first. . . . Now are you gonna turn that shit down, or am I gonna have to twist your arm?” Hunter recovered his senses, and crawled over the debris of the broken door towards the stereo. As he reached out his hand to adjust the volume knob, Kali Cop pounced, cuffing him and pinning his arm behind his back as she plopped on his derriere. He struggled for a moment as she apprehended his other arm, then said, “Damn, bitch! I’ll break your tail.” “Not very likely from your position at this moment,” she stood up, regarding his contorted posture dubiously. He wiggled in his bounds but that only made the steel handcuffs cut tighter into his wrists. “Mind if I smoke?” She gave him a good kick to roll him over and snagged a cigarette from the pack in his front shirt pocket. Using one of the candles in the darkened room, she lit the cancer stick and peered calculatingly at her captive. “So you like to bang, is that it? You like to bang your music, you like to bang your doors, I bet you even bang cattle.” She circled his prone body as she spoke, high-heeled boots clicking on the floor. “Lucky for you I like this song, so you’re gonna get off easy.” She knelt and stared into his beady eyes, “I know you get off easy.” She stripped off her heavy leather jacket, ripped open her blue police uniform to reveal her see-thru black lacy bra beneath. “See you guys, you’re all the same,” she sighed. “You all want the same things,” she casually licked her index and caressed her nipples until they stood erect pressing through their mesh casement. “I know what you want,” she sank onto his belly, pressing her nipples into his mouth. “Pucker up!” she ordered. He obeyed, and she felt his cock grow hard under her. She laughed, “Too easy,” and stood again. “But this time, you’re not gonna get what you want . . . or what you expected.” She walked out of his field of vision then knelt at his head. “Cause you’re right—I like to bang too. And this time, you’ll know how it feels to be screwed.” She blindfolded him neatly and rolled him onto his stomach.

29. Jaded Bee Posted: Oct 12th, 2007 at 8:54 am

    29 Okay, so I just happened to stumble across this site at work and fell in lurve with it. So I decided to try my hand at writing just for fun, plus I’m at work at my job is boring me to death. This is my first try so don’t bag on me too heavily. ________________________________________________________ Word Count: 400 Her day was beginning to seriously suck, I mean, honestly…who in their right mind would steal a pair of scuffed and worn combat boots off a porch out in the middle of nowhere? “Dammit, that was my favorite pair! Why couldn’t they have stolen the pair of break-your-neck heels my mom insisted on buying me? I’ll never wear em and they cost as much as a payment on my house. What a waste.” Kaye walked around the side of the house and lo and behold, there’s a dog the size of her pick up gnawing on her boot. “Great, just fan-freakin’-tastic! Where’s your owner? Hope he has some money in the bank cuz he’s buying me a new pair once I find him.” She walked up and checked his tags. “Rover, how original. Well Rover, I don’t suppose you’re anything like Lassie? Where’s Timmy and what well did he fall in?” The dog stopped chewing just long enough to look at her with a dumb expression and to lick her face with the foulest breath she’d ever encountered. “Never was a dog person. Okay, so you aren’t an intelligent beast. Guess I’ll just hafta pull a Sherlock then.” She grabbed the Hummers leash and followed his mammoth prints back to the woods. The dog began to sniff the ground. He pulled her deeper in and stopped sudden enough to trip up Kaye. “Next time how ‘bout a lil warning?” She moved her hands to find purchase enough to get up and to her surprise something moved….and was breathing! She jerked back. “What the hell?” Muffled mumbles. She pulled out her Bowie knife, reached over, and pulled down his gag. A deep voice rasped, “Ouch, couldn’t your hand have landed on something less vital?” She realized it had been on his crotch. “Well sorry, I didn’t plan on finding a guy in my woods this morning. And also, you own me a new pair of combat boots. You can thank Rover.” “Last time it was Manolos. He usually picks heels” “If only. There were heels right next to the Boots!” “Sorry doll, can ya untie my wrists and help me stand?” “Before the doll comment I might have, but now I’ll just leave the bill for the boots on the porch and let you manage on your own.” She dropped the knife on his lap and walked back to the house.

30. kate r Posted: Oct 14th, 2007 at 11:36 am

    30 Romance, schmance. They must have used two full rolls of tape on him. Every time he moved, another two or three hairs parted from the skin on his wrist, leg, belly or head. That didn’t stop his useless wriggling. Between painful attempts to free himself, he wondered what they would do once they finished with his bank card. Just stay the hell away, he thought. He’d rather die from starvation or smashing his head if he ever managed to tip the damned oak dining room table. At least they’d left him in boxers so when his body was discovered he wouldn’t be naked–just firmly attached to the table with silver duct tape as if he’d been attacked by an amateur but enthusiastic spider. Oh, shit they were back. No, way too quiet—and then he remembered. It was Mrs. Besovic’s day. He’d forgotten she existed. Thank God, the cleaning lady would rescue him. He tried to yell but only a pathetic moan came from his duct taped mouth. She found him within five minutes. Her severely plucked dark brows went up and she crossed her arms over her large chest, dust cloth dangling from one gloved hand. Jesus, she thought he wanted to be there. He squirmed and widened his eyes. She finally spoke. “Meester David? Okay?” Ignoring the chunks of hair pulled from his scalp he twisted his head from side to side. “Ah.” She easily ripped the tape from his mouth and stepped back. “Who do?” “Two of them, Mrs. Besovic. Bad men.” That was a phrase she used herself. Bad men came to her country, she’d told him, all he knew of her past as a refugee. For a long moment she only blinked at him, then she straightened her apron and strolled to the kitchen, returning with a long kitchen knife. Humming, she sawed at the tape wrapped around David. As she cut the last of the tape on his legs, the sound of his own car drifted through the open window. The engine stopped. “Shit, they’re back.” He pulled his leg from the tape and lunged at the phone. “I’ll call the police.” “No.” She held the knife in her yellow gloved hand and pointed it at David. A suggestion, not a threat. “Police never enough,” she whispered. “Never.” Looking into those dark eyes, he suddenly understood the real danger was for bad men. She witnessed slaughter and knew demons more intimately than he or even the men coming through the door. The short squat woman met the two men at the door of the dining room and with a few deft, merciless slashes dispatched them. David shouted, “Stop,” but she ignored him. Less than five minutes later, humming again, she carefully wiped the knife on a paper towel and peeled off the yellow gloves “Yes. Now call police.”

31. kate r Posted: Oct 14th, 2007 at 2:45 pm

    31 whoops, missed two words: “peeled off the scarlet and yellow” scarlet and = missing words. But I went over anyway.

32. Jaded Bee Posted: Oct 15th, 2007 at 8:28 am

    32 Hey Bam, I was wondering when this contest will be over and if you’d just go ahead and tell me what you think of my entry…please…when you get the time to read it. I’m an impatient person, I know. It’s one of my main flaws. Thanks!!!

33. Sandra Cormier Posted: Oct 15th, 2007 at 4:09 pm

    33 Thanks for extending the deadline! I just discovered this today and I needed an excuse to write this scene.

34. kate r Posted: Oct 15th, 2007 at 4:28 pm

    34 so can we do another one? like maybe one that follows the instructions?

35. Sandra Cormier Posted: Oct 15th, 2007 at 6:36 pm

    35 Okay, I still finished it tonight. My heroine is more of a reluctant heroine: Amanda knelt in the shadow of a pine tree and pulled the instructions from her back pocket. She bit her lip, smoothed the wrinkled paper in the dirt and placed the gun carefully in front of it. Her hurried notes were almost indecipherable, but she somehow managed to get the gun loaded and ready to fire. She cradled it in her hand, pointing it away from her and at the ground. Crouching low, she crept beneath the window. “Where is the blasted painting?” O’Connell’s accent was unmistakable. Amanda shivered in spite of the heat, remembering his chilling smile when he’d ordered Alejandro’s murder. “I told you, I do not have it.” Sendoa’s voice was tight, as if he was having difficulty breathing. Amanda rose to the window ledge and cautiously peeked through the green wooden slats. The two men she’d seen at the hotel held Sendoa’s arms, and Foster faced him, his broad back almost obscuring her view. She saw enough to know that Sendoa had been through a pounding. He looked at O’Connell and smiled. The Irishman roared with rage and delivered a roundhouse blow to Sendoa’s left side. The smile on Sendoa’s face turned into a grimace as he doubled over. God, they’re going to kill him. She raised the gun and rested it on the sill, tucking the barrel between the lowest slats. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bear the thought of shooting anyone, even if it was O’Connell. With her luck, she’d probably hit Sendoa instead. She aimed at a shelf piled high with brass cooking containers. Maybe the noise would distract them. Maybe he’d break free. She peered along the short barrel and squeezed the trigger. The recoil smacked her squarely on the bridge of her nose. She squeaked with pain, dropped the gun and tumbled backward into the dust, clutching her face. Shouts exploded from the farmhouse and she scrambled on her hands and knees, taking shelter behind a fig tree. More crashes and yelling. Shots rang out. She crouched lower and rubbed the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t see and her nose felt like it was on fire. Someone jerked her to her feet and clamped a hand over her mouth before she could scream. Sendoa’s voice caressed her ear. “Quickly.” He pulled her down the hillside until they were out of sight of the farmhouse.

36. Carrie Lofty Posted: Oct 16th, 2007 at 5:02 am

    36 Shit, I completely forgot about this. I’ll come up with something

37. kate r Posted: Oct 16th, 2007 at 10:34 am

    37 Dang, I like blood-thirsty women. This started out a lawyer stopping a client making an ass of himself. Easier to just have her kill people. * * * “We got a deal!” Even in the noisy tavern, Frauk was as subtle as a foghorn, bless him. He reached for the money but Leese was faster. She pushed the embroidered pouch back across the table. “No,” she told the man in silver. “Thanks.” He continued to ignore her, as he’d done since he’d sat down across from them. “You finish the job by the time-“ Frauk, however, knew better than to ignore his usually silent partner. Leather creaked as he twisted to look down at her. “Why not?” “You do protection. Not assassination.” “It’d make a nice change.” Frauk sounded hopeful. Under the table he put a big hand on her thigh, covering most of it. The man in silver shifted his chilly gaze to Leese for a heartbeat. When she looked into those eyes, she knew she was right. The man sneered at Frauk. “And you listen to her?” Hen-pecked. Led by the balls, that tone said. Frauk’s hand tightened on her leg. Sometimes he had to warn her, too. “Yes,” he told the man cheerily. “Be just a minute.” He hauled Leese from the bench into a darker corner. “So? Why not?” He sounded only curious. The good thing about her Frauk was he didn’t mind listening to her. You’d never guess a brute endowed with those muscles would heed a slip of a female. He smiled encouragingly. The other good thing about him was he didn’t understand what his muscles and those white teeth did to her or he’d flex and grin far more often. “First. The target is too risky. A judge? And then. You’re not thinking, sweetie. Look at our client.” “Huh.” He twisted and gave a quick examination at the man who watched them. “Oh. He’s a professional. Bristling with weapons. Shoulda seen that.” She didn’t want to belabor the point but she said, “You’d kill the target and our man would jump out kill you and claim he was on the side of justice.” Her Frauke’s heavenly blue eyes lit. “If he’s trying to get me killed, then it’s best we do him, hey?” She stroked his massive forearm. Poor Frauk. He was so bored. Watching and waiting was dull work compared to going out and doing. She’d have to find something exciting for him. But not this. He was all bulk and noise and obvious. “Yes, love. But I’ll do it.” The gleam in his eyes faded but he nodded agreement. Her Frauk had common sense.

38. Samantha Posted: Oct 18th, 2007 at 2:30 pm

    38 I just couldn’t resist afterall. Leave me out of consideration since I’m over the word limit, like way. It was still fun *** She spotted him in one corner, two vampires working him over, and not in the bad way. She watched him as his eyes rolled back, face slack, and throat working as one pale, fine-boned hand slid up his cock. He might desperately like the sensation right now, but he wouldn’t be too happy tomorrow. Almost immediately they took notice of her lucidity amidst the stench of blood, sex, and sweat, as she purposefully strode towards the threesome. Her sword cut like butter through the first two that came at her, blood flying cleanly from the blade, a soft whisper of death in the heavy air. The two vampires took to the scent of fresh blood slowly, pulling away from her prize with arrogant leisure considering their dead fellows and the speed at which she knew they could move. One blurred and had a hand grasped beneath her chin before her sword finished slicing halfway through his leg. Sword met bone in a sickening crack and the hand around her throat clenched. She thought he was going to break her neck, then he let go. She fleetingly considered that maybe death would be preferable. Now he was going to play. He threw her into the wall where she lay stunned, the act of breathing a hot agony through her severely bruised throat. Her sword hand clenched air and she realized she must have involuntarily dropped it. She flexed the muscles in her forearm, allowing a small, vicious blade to slide into her hand, waiting for the right moment as her vision pulsated dark and light with each throb of her heart. His face slid into view, dark eyes gleaming with unholy mirth and something akin to curiosity. He leaned down to sniff her and she jammed the point into his neck, digging it in as a hot, sloppy torrent of blood shot from the jugular. Her hand slipped but she kept pushing, rolling with the momentum, until his hand threatened to break her wrist and she let go to stagger back. The other one came at her and she ducked into a spinning hip check, barreling him down and using her hard landing to sickening advantage as several ribs snapped beneath her weight. She bounced up, head not quite catching up with her until she was halfway to her prize. She fought the momentary dizziness and grasped him under the arm pits. She couldn’t put him over her shoulder so she dragged him, dazed and half-clothed, to where her sword lay. The room had cleared and she spared a word of thanks. Both vampires were recovering slowly, still not ready to come at her again. She tucked her sword in and wrapped her fingers in the prize’s luxurious hair, using it to drag him as fast as she could. She was through one door and over the threshold to the final room when one of them stood. He staggered through behind her holding his neck. She barely looked back, just pumped her legs as hard as she could dragging dead weight, and half stumbled down the steps to her SUV. She shoved him over the driver seat, uncaring for cramped limbs, sure she could feel vampire breath on her neck the whole time. He was rushing the vehicle as fast as he could, which was slow for a vamp, when she sped away, almost jumping the curve on the empty street. An hour later she stopped in a church parking lot and contemplated her prize. He was kneeling uncomfortably on the floor board, his upper body sprawled face down in the passenger seat, as he slept the sleep of the unnaturally sexed. She took a deep breath, wondering if she had time to clean him up a little first, maybe in a hotel room with warm water and a soft bed. She snorted. The bed would be too soft or too hard and the bathroom would be soul-killingly sterile. Might as well do it here. She brushed his hair back, dry blood from her hands flaking over his forehead, and let her fangs descend.

39. kate r Posted: Oct 19th, 2007 at 3:47 pm

    39 Yo Bam, if you don’t announce this is closed, I’m gonna enter again because I think I finally have an idea that I like. Please, please, announce. I have to get some work done here.