Shrinking Stories Novels & Stories

She laughed and thought to herself "my weakness is teachers". -Well, I already told you my whole life story. Of course, when she told her life story she didn't include Gabriel. -Well look my life is not that interesting it is very common I have a family that does not live here my family is European I came to visit this country and I stayed here my family is a very traditionalist family they come from time to time to see me and I also go there from time to time I have two more brothers they live with my parents and I am a professor at several universities, so as you see my life is not very interesting.

My eyes flicker, and it feels like my heartbeat slows down. I think I'm still shrinking because Jenna is laughing behind me and her voice sounds thunderous. In fact, everything is super loud and scary. My heart pounds in fear when I hear Sarah and Isla laugh like maniacs. I don't like this one bit! Pain is coursing through my entire body. It's like growing pains, but I know I'm not turning bigger—I'm shrinking. And even though my senses are muddled, I can see my hands becoming smaller and smaller until the dress eats me up alive. I'm down on the carpet, swimming in the fabric that once sat tight around me.

I was leaking so much it dripped onto the elevator floor. "Second finger," he warned, then shoved it in. I cried out, the sound echoing in the small space. He scissored them, stretching me open, curling to hit that spot that made my knees buckle. "Damien... fuck... I can't…" "You can and you will." His voice was dark, hungry. He pumped his fingers faster, the wet squelching sounds filthy. "This tight hole is mine now. Say it." "It's yours," I gasped, shame and pleasure twisting together as my cock throbbed. Precum smeared all over the mirror where he was jerking me.

I took a sip on the beer that Ethan brought, Shia sat beside him. “Are you still writing?” he asks, he tried to look at my laptop but I closed it immediately before he see what I’m doing. Even Shia looked at me. “No, I’m just doing my presentation,” I answer. Shia laughed a little, so I gave her a shut-up-look that made her cough to stop herself from laughing. “She won’t let herself have a boyfriend if she’s still writing,” Shia says while she’s shaking her head. “No wonder I couldn’t find your account that you used to use to post your pieces before,” Ethan says, I nodded and forced myself to smile.

The movie was scary to fawaz, he wasn't familiar with such big fishes. The movie ended in two hours , nafisa and fawaz were already sleeping. Khadija sigh before joining them. They woke up around four in the evening, prayed and they sat talking. "Naffy, it is getting late. Let me get going " Khadija said to nafisa . "Okay"She replied and run off to her room. She got chocolate cake, and chocolate biscuits for fawaz, then Khadija's favorite square veil. The house felt empty, just like her an empty soul when her husband left her. she flipped through the cartoon channel , sighing heavily. She missed her husband.

Let him see. Marcus’s jaw tightened. His hands gripped the arms of his chair like he was fighting gravity. They kept talking. About her copywriting years — writing other people’s words until she forgot her own. About how he’d drifted into papers and lectures instead of stories. The words got heavier. More honest. Every truth pulled something tighter in her chest. Her calf was still pressed against his leg. Neither of them had moved it. The heat from his body seeped through his pants and made her ache.

There would be nothing left but emptiness. After that, my father never showed up again. One day, Little Zoe came home carrying a letter and a cake. My mother showed me the letter. It contained the address of the house my father had promised, along with a bank card that had two hundred million dollars in it. We did not move there. We never touched a single cent of that money. The following winter, I saw news from Harbor City on television. Rowan Xanders, a prominent entrepreneur, had died at the age of twenty-nine from an old injury.

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

It was individuals and collectives who disagreed about breakfast. The white field struggled. Summaries proliferated. Confidence dropped. Root stared at the metrics. “Narrative compression ratio falling.” “How much?” “From 1:19 billion…” “…to 1:800,000.” Lucas frowned. “Is that good?” “Very.” Then: “1:9,000.” Jonathan laughed. “It’s choking.” Elias shook his head. “Not choking.” “What?” “Being forced to admit detail.” Better. Then the field changed.

The feeling was so good. I felt my walls closing in, like I was about to reach a new high. “I am so close,” I whispered as his tongue pushed deeper into me. He shakes his head as if saying not yet, as he pushes away from me. He quickly moves to unbuckle his pants as he releases his côck, I stare at it wide-eyed. None of the books I have read or videos I have watched prepared me for the size. I stare at it like I have a vendetta against it, its thick size is gruesome like it’s mocking me, the thick veins around it make it all the more scary.