I Am A Stick Novels & Stories

She was soft and felt right for his arms. His cheeks started to flare up and he felt uncomfortable down there. It’s been a while since the breakup and he felt it would be too impure to jerk off in Fin’s apartment. In fact, he shouldn’t be hard for Fin’s body at all! The best way is to start imagining the weirdest things he could come up with. Stone Cold Steve Austin in a tutu dress, he chanted, mentally. Stone Cold Steve Austin in a tutu dress. It took a while till he sighed. Finally, his member softened.

We were both on our backs. I scrambled to get up, but he shoved the stick to my throat. "Stay down, or I'll have your throat ripped out." Easy enough. I froze. Vivid still stood there. Shaking. At least she was safe from the stick. Mr. Big Stick turned his attention to her, leaning in, sniffing her hair. I felt rage boiling in my veins, shifting to get in again. Mr. Big Stick growled and swung the stick to hit me in the leg. "I said stay down."

"Your liver is the size of a chicken's! You wouldn't even know the difference between milk and vinegar, you dumb butternut squash!" After repeatedly beating the pile of leaves, the stick finally breaks and I throw it away, jumping onto the pile, as I pound both my feet down onto it. When I've nearly worn myself out, I stomp on it one foot at a time while I let one last big holler. It's been so long since Ive had a good tantrum! Releasing my pent up rage, not only for this situation, but for all the things that I've endured is all coming out at once. I trip on the broken off half of the stick and go tumbling to the ground with a big thump.

I was tired of being the damsel in distress, tired of feeling helpless. Tired of being a pawn. Today felt different though. Heavier. Like something was about to crack open. Nico tossed a wooden stick toward me, which I caught clumsily. "We'll start with the basics," he said, circling me like a predator. I tightened my grip. "I am not made of glass," I muttered under my breath. He chuckled lowly. "Good. Then stop acting like you are." I lunged forward, clumsy and angry, swinging the stick at him. Nico dodged easily, grabbing my wrist and twisting it until the stick clattered to the ground.

We all go silent and look at the stairwell, praying the man didn’t hear. After a minute I rush over and grab the stick before crawling back and attempting to move the rock closer with the stick. The stick is just long enough to nudge it towards me a tiny bit. I reach out my arm again trying to grab it. My face squished against the cold metal bars. “Just a little further,” I tell myself out loud. I feel the rock below my fingertips and I manage to flick it closer towards me. I sigh as I hear it clink against the cage.

“Pick it up. Use it.” I glared at her, my temper sparking, hot and unsteady. “This is ridiculous,” I said, gripping the stick tighter, my head pounding harder. Her stick lashed out again, smacking my thigh, the pain sharp and blooming. I snarled, stumbling back, my patience fraying. “Stop it!”

I didn't want to sit with him but I just had to since there wasn't any other spare seat. When I sat, the sweaty guy offered his sweaty palm. "Hey I'm Shaggy." He said with a big smile. I should have seen that coming. "Hi, I'm Daniel." I said, not taking his hand. Heaven knew where his hands had been. He nodded, retrieving his hand in embarrassment. "Y'know, the dummy thing is part of our tradition here in the ninth grade. We do it for every fresher we get." Shaggy said.

In total, they were the word Perfect itself. Amanda could recognize the one in the middle as one of the famous bikers in college from their motorcycle club– Wild Hogs Motorcycle club. He often drives around town with his team and she couldn’t deny the fact that she feels an unexplainable pull whenever she’s around him. She knew in her heart that she was crushing on him, even though she would constantly say otherwise.

The wood wobbled under my boots and I held my arms out a little for balance. From below, Derek twirled the stick lazily. “You ready?” he asked. I didn’t answer. Mostly because if I opened my mouth I might tell him exactly where he could shove that stick. “Begin.” I took one careful step. Then another. The stick slammed into my ankle. Hard. My foot slipped instantly and I hit the dirt. Laughter burst out somewhere behind Derek. I pushed myself up, brushing dirt off my hands. Okay. Fine. Maybe that was just—

"I thought six years away would have made you a little less of a pampered pup. I guess some things never change, Cry-Baby." He lifted his head, his blue eyes flashing with a dangerous heat. "And you’re still the same thorn in my side that’s been festering since we were in the nursery. Do you ever plan on growing up, Stick-Girl?" "I don't know, do you ever plan on being something other than a colossal prick?" "That depends on whether you can stop being a feral termagant!" "What the hell is a 'termagant'?" "It means you’re a violent, overbearing bitch, that's what!"