Pocket Stories Novels & Stories

Flashback* Ahmed Nawaz was in his cabin, working on his laptop when he heard noises coming from outside. He thought of ignoring it when someone barged into the office. "At least listen to me." Dayyan's pleading voice came as he entered the cabin. But what shocked Ahmed wasn't Dayyan coming to his cabin, neither it was Dayyan's guilty posture. What truly stunned Ahmed Nawaz was a young girl who entered the cabin with Dayyan. Clad in denim jeans shirt and black trousers, the girl's main highlight were her loud red lipstick and a determined expression on her face.

’ Anderson thought and unconsciously patted his bag. Next, after the setting was provided, he would tell his stories, but he needed to survive. That part was difficult to understand. Did it mean he would be stopped from telling the story? Would he be hunted down? He tried hard to not think about the guns in his duffle bag so as to not give them away. He had to be ready for anything.

I feel like I shouldn't bother her with something as trivial as this. As I was walking on my way to school, I noticed something on the ground. I bent down to pick it up. It was a wallet. I opened it to see if I can find information about the owner, and there it was, an ID card. The wallet belonged to a person called Lilac Innocencia. Coincidentally, she was also a student from my new school. Jeez, losing their wallet on the first day, I feel sorry for her. When I got to school, I immediately went to the girl's class to find her. It's been years since the last time I attended a proper school, and it still feels just as suffocating.

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)

The weight of the radiation seemed to increase, making every breath a labored effort. Our conversation shifted from casual banter to whispered anxieties. We spoke of our hopes, however faint, for a better future, and of our fears—the fear of the dome collapsing, the fear of starvation, the fear of the creatures that lurked just beyond our reach. We spoke of the stories we’d read in the library, of a time before the radiation, a time of green fields and clear skies, a time when humanity wasn’t clinging to survival in the shadow of a shattered world. These stories, fragments of a lost past, were our only solace in the vast, desolate wasteland. They provided a spark of hope that kept us going.

~ END ~ Author’s Note: Next Story “The Poker Game”

I have been married to Paolo for five years now, but never did he give me flowers or cake or anything on our anniversary. Just problems. We are poor, well not something like the poorest of the poor, but we are poor. There were months when we couldn’t pay our electric bills, water bills, and any other bills that we have to pay. And now, Paolo gambled our residence house and lot, leaving us both homeless. Fuck life. So we had to ask for help from his family. And I have to find a job that pays well.

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

Some stories started with hate. This one ended with everything.

“You are pathetic.” Her body flinched at my words, but another wave of shivers covered her arms. “Dirty little doll.” The more I talked, the more her nipples were standing at attention, the more her breathing was getting heavier, the more her hands were gripping the fabric they were tied with. My fingers traced her leg. “I bet you are one of the people who like reading p**n books in public.” I moved to her other leg, gripping her ankle. “I bet you keep a straight face while your panties are getting soaked.”