Little Space Test Novels & Stories

Whatever that is. Hitting the right target on a tiny plastic stick while your whole body trembles deserves some kind of medal. She’s concentrating so hard that she doesn’t notice her tongue sticking out just a little. Cute. Terrible timing. Still cute. She places the test on the basin, cleans up, and washes her hands. “Now what?” “We wait. It says three minutes.” Three minutes feels like a lifetime. My eyes lock onto that little white piece of plastic like it might suddenly sprout horns. Or a baby.

Mom: "Day Sixty-one: Jim pounded away at the weights as I watched, his fabulous physique just sweaty enough to look like one of those hunky studs in Mr. Olympia or some other contest. The sweat dripping off his body highlighted those glorious muscles. My baby today measured 20 inches at the bicep and nine inches in the manhood department. He now insists that he will only keep training if I do the measurements, including measuring that heavenly erect cock of his. I am still a good mother and have only stroked and caressed that gorgeous steel hard symbol of virility because his tiny-equipped father ordered me to. I do confess to the diary that I was not ordered to measure his scrotum, but his

I look back at my case study options and I add a fourth one and then immediately cross it out before I can finish writing it. But the two words are still visible under the single line. False testimony.