The Joy Of Movement Novels & Stories

And through the bond — not processed, not managed, just arriving directly, the truest signal the connection had ever carried— Joy. Pure, enormous, terrified, absolute joy.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My body hardly gets tired anymore, I could just go all day and night. Frederick says we’re naturally born to move, run, exercise. He didn’t say the big word but he hinted around it for sure. Born to breed I’m willing to bet. There’s no way a beastly creature with a lust for blood and fighting doesn’t want to get off 24/7. Also, since my shift I swear to the Goddess my hips have moved and are wider and I literally FEEL ready to pop out a kid. *Pay attention.* My mind tells me, and I turn to narrow my eyes at my mother.

I feel like my spirits lower whenever this season comes in. I then continue to jog until I hit the park. People are doing yoga and I see a group of middle-aged women dancing, exercising, to upbeat Latin music. They look so cheerful executing movements. I smile at them while stretching out behind a row of benches. I missed this, the easiness of the morning. I now feel vibrant just by seeing everybody in the park moving, joyfully enjoying their exercises.

I turned back to look at them again and again as I walked away. For a brief moment, it felt as if I could see the Wendy of my past life standing among the crowd, waving at me. Her lips moved, as though she were saying something. "This time, make sure you find true happiness!" I nodded silently to myself. I knew I would.

He was doing the moving and my body was moving according to his rhythm. He had moved from the wall to the cold floor. He was doing all the work or better yet working me. The feeling was pure bliss because he was moving with emotion. It felt strange enjoying pleasure from someone who I feared and hated. I was surprised because my body was singing for him with every thrust.

Ten - Daniel King's POV - I saw my grandpa warming up in front of the main door, the moment I step out of my bedroom. He used to have a jogging routine every weekends, early in the morning. I wanted to talk about something important to him so coming up with an idea of tagging along with him would be the best way. “Going on a jogging, grandpa?” I asked as I was approaching him. He breath out, “As usual, son.” He paused as he raised his brows, “You know, getting older means getting more exercise.”

"Come on. One small step. We'll show you that change doesn't mean losing what you are—it means becoming more of what you could be." The Stagnation Entity trembled—the first movement it had made in eons. "But what if I change and regret it? What if movement brings pain?" "It will," I said honestly through divine authority. "But it will also bring joy you can't imagine in stillness. Pain and joy aren't opposites—they're both proof you're alive." Through Wisdom, David offered the final insight. "You don't have to change completely. Just allow the possibility of change. That's all we're asking—not eternal movement but the choice between movement and rest."

My belly was left aching, while my hands and posterior were bruised. There were pieces of fruit caking my stark-white dress, but what hurt more was the sight of the broken watermelon strewn all over the floor. I carried it all the way back from the north ten days ago—it was my parents' favorite, and unavailable in the market. My parents had been so worried about me when I moved south for work, insisting on moving here with me even if they weren't used to this place. They missed the watermelons back home, but I couldn't even afford to let them have a taste of home before their passing.

One hand stayed on the base of the toy; the other periodically tugged the leash, forcing her head up so the camera caught every expression. “You’re going to count every thrust out loud,” I said. “Start now.” Her voice was wrecked but obedient. “One… two… three…” She counted through twenty, thirty, her body jolting with each deep push. At forty I changed the angle, grinding the toy hard against her front wall. Her count broke into moans. I didn’t stop. I kept the pace relentless until she lost the numbers entirely and simply sobbed through another orgasm, cunt pulsing around the dildo.

" He said and we all started applauding. "That gave me chills." Cuore laughed. "Mine is Joy," Taylen stated. "Joy is an exciting feeling you get if you win a race or graduate. Your stomach bubbles, your eyes sparkle and you can't help but raise your arms in the air and have a voluminous smile on your face. Joy looks like all the brightest colours of the world. It sounds like rocking, awesome music or upbeat trumpets playing. It may also sound like the chirping of birds in the morning.