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You blink away the pain and realize that you'r laying on some sort of stone table littered with some sort of clear and white fluids. As you look around the room you find it a mess of books and other miscellaneous items. You glance a wooden door on the far side of the room and push yourself into a seated position. As you prepare to stand your eyes pass over a large standing mirror not too far from the table. You suddenly realize that you don't remember what you look like. This thought troubles you as it seems so unlikely that anyone could just forget what they look like and begin to suspect that something is very, very wrong. You snap out of that trance and walk over to the mirror in order to remind yourself of your appearance.When you reach the mirror you are shocked and confused by what you see. Shocked because you are some sort of blue anthropomorphised slime with no facial or bodily features of any sort, and confused because you'r almost positive that you didn't look like this.. "I just got out of a very serious relationship, Maddie. I'm really not ready to start dating again."An engagingly predatory smile crossed Maddie's face. "Well, there are a few of us who don't mind skipping all that dating stuff, Ben. You know, Ben, maybe just a casual opportunity to release some tension would be good for you. Unclog the pipes as it were." Maddie..." My tone shifted uncomfortably."Hey, hey," she held a hand up and started to turn away, looking achingly graceful as she did. "No pressure. Just letting you know the offer's on the table. And if you ever, ah, feel like doing a little plumbing ... just let me know."Arching an eyebrow, I just watched as Maddie turned and walked away. Damn she had a fine ass...I'd already spent half the day fantasizing about Madeline Chung's fine ass, picturing her bent over my bed with her legs spread wide while I plunged my cock into her over and again. She had such long and slender limbs I started imagining what pretzel-like positions I.
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Not after I just spent the last two hours cleaning up that girl.” Mona stared at the carefully-wrapped infant remains in her arms. Teardrops sneaked down her cheeks in shaky rows. She let them drip off her face without embarrassment. “Just because I’m crying does not mean I’m fragile,” she said with indignation, punching each word like a shadowboxing pugilist. “Baby, there are a ton of words I would use to describe you,” Moe said. “Fragile isn’t anywhere on the list.” Mona glanced over at Moe with watery eyes and trembling lips. “We need to burry this girl, Moe. And when we’re done, you’re going to give me an explanation.” * * * With Mona’s direction, Moe found a food crate in the basement. Mona cleaned the crate and lined it with a piece of plum-colored velvet cloth from her sewing basket. Nailing the lid shut was one of the hardest things Moe had ever done. That is, up until he had to dig a six foot hole in the back corner of Mona’s yard. “Under the weeping willow,” she told him..

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