Fingers Twitching Uncontrollably Novels & Stories

For real. I slump against the closed door of my bedroom, my back against the smooth wood. My legs tremble, but it's not fatigue. It's electricity. A pure current running under my skin, making every muscle twitch. I look at my hands. They're trembling too. I clench them into fists. It's been a whole day since I've heard from him.

But Lenny Slackitt had some very particular disabilities in which Sally was not necessarily convinced. First of all he had Uncontrollable Sexual Addiction Syndrome or USAS which meant he had to ejaculate regularly. Then he had Acute Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or ACTS which meant that he couldn't satisfy his USAS by masturbating himself - he had to get someone else to do it for him! He also 'suffered' from Post-Coital Compulsive Nicotine Disorder or PCCND which, conveniently, meant he had to have a cigarette after orgasm. And finally he had been diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome or TS which meant that he could swear freely with no consequence.

My legs kept twitching bad and I couldn’t stop the whiny noises coming out of my mouth. It was too much. My body was still buzzing from before and every lick and suck sent sharp sparks through me. I tried to lift up a little because it was getting too sensitive but he held me down tighter. “Ken… slow down… it’s too much right now,” I panted, voice cracking.

I talked to him for what felt like hours, only stopping to message my mom that I would be late coming home, that something had come up. I was seeing the twitching more and more, my first sight of them not being a fluke or a trick of the light then. I only prayed to the Goddess that it wasn’t mini seizures from silver we could have missed in him. I ended up laying my head down next to his hand at one point then, exhausted from the influx of wounded men we had gotten in before him.

“Didn’t I tell you not to be overly nice? I warned you! It’s just a tiny scar! You probably can’t even see it anymore! It’s been there so long it’s basically turned white and blended into my skin!” “I’ll use a magnifying glass." And that was when my lower eyelid started twitching uncontrollably. I felt a vein throb sharply at my temple, and my breath came out in short, scattered bursts. I was stammering, struggling to find the right words, and failing miserably. My brain had shut down. I didn’t even know what to say to him anymore. But I swear, this bastard… he's toying with me. There’s just no way he’s seriously going to make me bend over the sofa right here and now just to search for a stu

My fingertips wouldn't stop twitching, and my vision was in splotches of black. Then came the pressure in my chest. My tongue felt thick, my throat dry. I was sweating but freezing. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form. My mouth barely opened. Matteo noticed. He stepped forward slowly. "What are you doing now, little brother?" he asked. "Trying to fake a seizure for sympathy?" But I didn't respond. My legs jerked. And then my body began to convulse violently. My head snapped back. I heard a crack…my neck? No, maybe my jaw.

My hands began to tremble, a strange energy climbing through my ribs. I tried to ignore it, focusing on a blue vase with painted flowers. But the ringing just got louder, like someone was banging on a metal pot right next to my ear. My hands felt even twitchier, and this weird urge bubbled up inside me, a feeling I couldn't explain. Before I even knew what was happening, my hand shot out, grabbed two of the iron spoons, and shoved them into the little satchel I carried.

Instead, her eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. Then suddenly, her body began to shake in a funny way. At first, it was a small twitch in her shoulders, then her whole body started to jerk and shake, fast and it looked liek she had no control over it. “Mum?” I said, tapping her. “Mum, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” I tried to calm her down, placing my other hand over hers but her bony fingers were wrapped so tightly around mine that it hurt. I tried to pull away, but it was no use because her grip didn’t loosen.

There was no one in this godforsaken, desolate place. I forced all my strength into my arms, which were still buried deep in the slimy mud, straining to stand up. However, my muscle fibers suddenly went into violent spasms. When I tried to lift my arm, my fingertips trembled and twitched with a force so powerful and beyond my control that my hand jerked forward. When I tried to flex my leg, my thigh muscles locked up, shooting a piercing pain so severe it felt like the worst cramp imaginable, forcing a hiss through my teeth.

I ask. “I don’t know,” she breathes. “You trigger it.” “How?” “You’re too close…” “I’m not moving.” “It doesn’t matter.” Her hand jerks again— harder this time. Like something inside her is pulling the strings. “See?” she gasps. “It’s reacting to you.” “Then focus.” “I’m trying!” Her fingers curl into a fist. Tight. Too tight. Her entire arm trembles now. “Don’t let it win,” I say.