Dr.slump Novels & Stories

this sleeping sickness. Dr Kapur’s superior, Sir John Jenkinson, standing over the sleeping bodies of Central Hospital porter Norman Eley and his wife, Corrine—the quietest anyone had ever known the woman—speculated that the sickness in question had traits in common with Kleine-Levin Syndrome: ‘More commonly known as Rip van Winkle disease, or even Sleeping Beauty Syndrome...’ But, again, this was a neurological disorder and not prone to being passed on in such a devastating way. By the time it had been noted that the disease was airborne, after many of the hospital staff who hadn’t come into contact physically with patients began suffering from the same symptoms, the writing was on the wall

She felt herself dreaming, not believing it was possible to reach at this height of carnal pleasure. He flipped her effortlessly, pulling her hips up, gathering her hair in a fist to stop her from moving away. Her unrestrained loud moans led the violent slaps of flesh as he pounded inside her, slowly but fast, deep and hard. His vicious drill drove her to ecstasy. Gripping his cock, her pussy passionately throbbed, juicing him in encouragement, never wanting to let go of this evanescent form of happiness. She felt herself getting teared apart and merged together all the same. He pulled her closer still, letting her naked back touch his chest, thrusting inside her.

I replied, and he shook his head, sipping his bottle of juice. "But if it happens again," he paused, using his finger to trace his neck, "they're dead." "Isn't that going too far?" I asked, slipping my hands into my pockets, and he smirked. "You obviously don't know Slim," he said. That got me thinking. I realized I didn't really know him beyond the fact that he dealt drugs and had anger issues. "What do I need to know?" I asked, my eyes returning to Hayden on the court.

"It’s a rhythm, sir," the Lieutenant replied, hesitation flickering in his tone. "Every time we increase pressure to the southern slurry intake, the peak responds with a sympathetic frequency. It’s like a heartbeat. The more we push, the faster it beats." Commander Elias Thorne didn't turn around. He watched a massive, multi-ton drill bit shudder as the ground beneath it buckled, sending a plume of toxic, chemical-infused dust into the freezing night air. "A heartbeat? Is that what the engineering team is calling it now? Put that in the formal report, and I’ll have your badge by morning. Increase the feed rate by another twelve percent. If the mountain wants to play games, we’ll drown it in

My boyfriend, Sean Conway, tells me he wants to get married and asks me to wear a wedding dress to the company's annual party. I think he's finally going to propose. So I show up in the most beautiful wedding gown I can find, bouquet in hand, and confess my love to him in front of the entire company. Suddenly, his sweet, innocent-looking secretary, Hannah Sloan, storms over and dumps an entire cup of coffee on me. "You shameless, ugly bitch! Just because you landed a nine-figure deal, you think you can steal my husband? You slut! Keep running your mouth, and I'll shut it for you!" Sean has always been a stickler for the rules, but instead of standing up for me, he accuses me of violating

He smiled at her politely. “Uh. O-Okay.” So they wheeled her back to take a scan of her brain. A couple hours later the Doctor returned to her room and placed her scans on a lightbox. “Ok, Ms. Jess. I have some good news and I have some bad news. Which would you like first?” He paused and waited for her response. “Uhm.” She shrugged, “Bad.” “The bad news is you have more swelling then we originally saw in your first scan.” It was as if he was pausing for affect before he continued.

Because of this, Kipper Group found itself in the middle of a public opinion storm. With the crisis temporarily resolved, I blocked the clients who were the first to cancel their contracts with me. If they did not trust me enough, there was no point in discussing further cooperation. Being the victim of a cheating husband brought me a wave of online sympathy, and I got so many new orders that I was overrun with work. I could not stop smiling. "Hey, Alex, guess what? I just landed another huge contract today!" "Yeah, I know," Alex responded. As I was sharing my excitement with Alex, the edge of a trench coat caught my eye. My smile froze.

The Foundation’s operations room was a scene of controlled panic when Elias and Kian returned. Julian and Lena Sharma were locked in a desperate effort to isolate the infected portions of the Sentinel Ledger Protocol (SLP). Holographic projections of the SLP network shimmered with dangerous, flashing red nodes—the silent, systemic corruption spreading throughout the global financial data.

Instead, he looked a lot more like an elite lawyer of some sort. He was very steady and professional, and his calmness rubbed off on me too, easing my anxiety a little. Dustin saw how much I was paying Jayden's team and hesitated. "Rach, you just need to track an IP address. Certainly, there's no reason for you to spend that much on hiring the Blackjacks? The Blackjacks was the name of Jayden's IT team. They were incredibly famous for being highly efficient, precise, and atrociously expensive.

A deep shudder that moved through the lower corridors and up through the residential floors — not sharp, not the percussion of a surface explosion, the slow roll of bedrock deciding to be in a different configuration. Then the drill's grinding stopped. The mechanical pulse that had been in the stone floor of the lowest level for three hours stopped mid-cycle, the abrupt absence of it almost louder than the sound had been. Elena maintained the counter-vibrational hold for forty seconds after the silence started, waiting for confirmation. "Silas," she said. "Reading the drill's substrate signature," he said. "The cutting head is stationary. The primary stabilizer legs have sheared — the collap