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Sorry, I'm Not Into Bestiality by IggyWasTaken
IggyWasTaken
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Now, I've been hungover before. Arguably more than most. I've experienced the entire spectrum of complicated euphoria that comes with drinking until you can't stand. I've witnessed things that upon reflection, no sober human being could even begin to comprehend through the kaleidoscopic of lens of Dutch courage. There has been very little I couldn't chalk up to the consequences of my own actions while recovering from a particularly heavy night of partying. But as the stranger in front of me demanded for me to stop, his entire appearance morphed into something monstrous. And I can honestly say, that was a first for me. The air grew thin as I began to shake uncontrollably, a rotten cold sweat breaking out across my skin as my tongue simultaneously turned to ash in my mouth. His pupils had blown to an unearthly size, the whites of his eyes rapidly growing blood shot before flooding with thick, burgundy splotches, removing any trace of humanity. Dark veins of blues and purples bulged along his neck, darkening to a perturbing black as they crawled along his jawline and burst forth from his orifices, joining a tangled web beneath his skin. His canines which had already been relatively prominent, extended even further, their sudden evolution an inescapable indicator of their deadliness. His head morphed and elongated just past the point of natural, jaw clenching and sickening cracks looming as I stood frozen in stock horror fear. Everything in my body screamed that what I was witnessing was just wrong. That if there was a God, this creature was the antithesis. I was in the presence of the ultimate predator and I was one swipe away from having my throat ripped out. The man I'd only a few minutes earlier considered attractive, had become one of the vilest creatures I'd ever seen. Definitely not a crackhead. "Holy f*cking crap!" -------------------------------------------------------------------- British ex-military meets the supernatural.
In 27 Days (Watty Award Winner 2012) by HonorInTheRain
HonorInTheRain
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Hadley Jamison doesn't know what to think when she hears that her classmate, Archer Morales, committed suicide. She didn't exactly know him, but that doesn't stop her from feeling like there was something she could have done to help him. So to Hadley's surprise, on the very night of Archer's funeral, she has a run in with Death himself and is offered the chance to go back in time to stop Archer from ending his life. The catch? She only has twenty-seven days to do it. And if Hadley doesn't succeed? Well, she doesn't want to think about that.
no homo > larry au [completed] by louvinglouis
louvinglouis
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louist91: I kinda really wanna suck your dick louist91: no homo tho ••••• {HIGHEST RANKING: #3 in FanFiction}
The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield by ninyatippett
ninyatippett
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***The wrong girl is sometimes The Right One.*** Charlotte Samuels thought she'd be stuck waiting tables at Marlow's until all her debts are paid off-in about ten thousand years or so. She definitely didn't expect a marriage proposal from the arrogant Brandon Maxfield who was blackmailed by his father to make her his wife if he didn't want his least favorite cousin to run Maxfield Industries. Charlotte's instinct was to say HELL NO! but she's stumped by a few obstacles: 1.) His old man Martin Maxfield is dear to her heart and has been recently deteriorating in health. 2.) She gets a million dollars if she stays married to Brandon for a year. 3.) She would rather like the opportunity to teach the attractive but awfully rude man a few lessons he didn't think he needed from a 'teenage gold-digger' which was his term of endearment for her on their first date-er, business meeting. So what's a girl got to do, right? Sure, she's young and a little rough around the edges but there's something her would-be husband didn't know about her yet-she's nothing like he ever expected. Thrust into the glitzy world a standard-issue Mrs. Maxfield would fit perfectly and rule with impeccable social grace, Charlotte will either have to force herself into the mold or break free of it, risking what little she has left for everything that she can gain. *** Copyright © 2014 by Nina Tippett. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Nina Tippett. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Images, music and videos used in the cover art and any of the multimedia content posted in this story are the sole property of their respective owners.