The Story Of Inderos:
Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2005 8:10 pmI was diggin' through my stuff and I just happened to run into something that made me smile. I wrote it a while back while I was locked away in a government facility, accused of stealing a sensetive Item. I would liken it to Voltair's "Candid" or perhaps De Saude's "Justine". When I wrote this I spent the majority of the long dull days fantasizing about the next time I would get to see the light of my life and former lover. Anyway before I get too far into the pearl casting I'd like to introduce the first chapter of the work entitled "The Unhappy Misfortunate Story Of Inderos."
Plainsville was a queer little town in middle America, that is to say it was a bit of an enigma. Nobody could really tell you when it was founded, or for that matter why. Everyone in the town was to busy with day to day buisness to waste time thinking about the past, and for that matter it was very unlikely that the past was very much different from the present day. The farms that made up the majority of Plainsville were small, subsistence affairs, ploughed by horses and seeded by hard working men. They were worked hard every day from sunup to sundown by as many hands as could be supported by the tiny plots. Indie Inderos, a queer little child, lived in one of these queer little farms in the queer little town of Plainsville, and she was not very much different from the farm on which she lived.
Chapter 1 "A Queer Little Child"
I suppose if a story of Indie Inderos is to be told it must start with her rather unusual childhood. Indie's mother "Missy" was a kind loving woman who was always willing to share her home with the destitute young men who were all to common in the poor town of Plainsville. Missy's kindness was so great that many times she would go so far as to share her bed with the poor ruinous souls. There seemed no end to her good heartedness as often she would invite several young men to sup at her table, which was renouned for its sumptious fresh water clams and large delicious brown trout, caught daily at the deep hole in the center of long crack creek. Though missy refused to tell Indie of her real parents, she had always said she would learn about them when God so desired.
Contented with the explanation Indie spent her early childhood playing in the field amongst the hands during the day and retiring in the afternoon to the stables where she would brush her favorite mare Jessie before returning to the house in the evening to watch her favorite programs while drifting to sleep serenaded by the crickets and bullfrogs who rose to sing every warm spring and summer night.
Oh how glorious life was in those early days for Indie as she had yet to learn how cruel a joke her real mother had played on her. How bitterly she would curse and spit if she had an inkling of the cosmic fluke that had led to her pastoral existence. But in those early years, those blessed, beautiful, ignorant years she was blissfully unaware of the Trojan horse that lay in her loins, waiting patiently and vigilantly to spring itself upon her unsuspecting body.
Chapter 2 "Stuff Gets Messed Up"
Seasons pass, leaves spring forth, live, wither, and die. All the while age creeps unnoticed upon the young forcing them to grow into adults. Indie, that sweet innocent, God-loved child was not exept from this, and by the time she had reached the sixth grade upon her 18th birthday she began to notice changes in her body. Her armpits would cry great stinky tears, and rough curly hair sprang forth in the most inconvenient of places with such frequency and tenacity she was forced to shave thrice daily. Also she noticed three distinct additions to her lower body.
By the vulgar talk of the field hands she was able to identify them as a "Weiner" and two "Doo-Danglers". She had never expected to grow them overnight, much less ones of such obvious quality. The weiner by her measure must've been no less than 8 inches in length, while the doo-danglers extended a mere 3 inches where they hung snuggled close to her body by a fleshy sac. The girth of the wiener was considerable, it was enough to prevent Indie from being able to wrap the fingers of her slim girlish hand around it completely. She gasped as she felt the soft carress on her recent addition. "Incredible!" she though. She rubbed her hand accross the massive thingy again. The kip-snikety was growing rapidly and raising itself into the air, like an angel with two droopy wings. It pushed the baby blue skirt that she wore high into the air before it fell back into her soft patch of golden blonde wiener hairs.
"Oh my gosh!" Indie wispered as she grasped the now throbing dub-snupper with a second hand. She felt like she was floating on the wind of a thousand overblown rm2k game ideas. The sensation shook her and she fell to her knees overcome with ecstasy, like Wish-Moo when she sees a lawyer. She had never felt this way. She was confused, not unlike that jackass Happy Mair trying to understand why Carl Jung is a douche, and that allegories, far from being childish, are infact marvelously beautiful ways to tell stories and impart lessons that would otherwise seem dull and tired. The muscles in her legs tightened up and she felt a chill from the very tips of her toes to the top of her head. Then she became aware of another sensation, one more familiar, but just as powerful
It was an emptiness, a great gaping longing in between her pale, milky thighs. She had always resisted this urge, but she was too excited to ignore it this time. Indie's eyes shot around the storage cellar in which she kneeled before they rested on a Zuchini she had placed in a basket to bring up for dinner. She grasped it with one hand, the anticipation was incredible. The only thing she had ever wanted so bad in her entire life was for Episode 6 to finaly be released. Slowly she moved the Zuchini south of the Mason-Dixon line.
TO BE CONTINUED
I'm not sure I should give away anymore of this for free. I mean I haven't seen 1 red cent for either "Crestfallen" or "The Way". I figured after reading the trash that everyone else puts on the board you could use something with a little bit of a pedigree so to speak.
Rather than releasing the entire story, which is already written, I'm going to break it into episodes and string it out over a long period of time claiming not to have finished them, or to be fine tweaking them. In essence I'm going to hold "The Unhappy Misfortunate Story Of Inderos" hostage until I get some sort of affirmation or adulation. I'll do this mainly to feed my ego which has become massive ever since I started banging this fine Filipino chick. Yeah that's right Inderos, I moved on.
Plainsville was a queer little town in middle America, that is to say it was a bit of an enigma. Nobody could really tell you when it was founded, or for that matter why. Everyone in the town was to busy with day to day buisness to waste time thinking about the past, and for that matter it was very unlikely that the past was very much different from the present day. The farms that made up the majority of Plainsville were small, subsistence affairs, ploughed by horses and seeded by hard working men. They were worked hard every day from sunup to sundown by as many hands as could be supported by the tiny plots. Indie Inderos, a queer little child, lived in one of these queer little farms in the queer little town of Plainsville, and she was not very much different from the farm on which she lived.
Chapter 1 "A Queer Little Child"
I suppose if a story of Indie Inderos is to be told it must start with her rather unusual childhood. Indie's mother "Missy" was a kind loving woman who was always willing to share her home with the destitute young men who were all to common in the poor town of Plainsville. Missy's kindness was so great that many times she would go so far as to share her bed with the poor ruinous souls. There seemed no end to her good heartedness as often she would invite several young men to sup at her table, which was renouned for its sumptious fresh water clams and large delicious brown trout, caught daily at the deep hole in the center of long crack creek. Though missy refused to tell Indie of her real parents, she had always said she would learn about them when God so desired.
Contented with the explanation Indie spent her early childhood playing in the field amongst the hands during the day and retiring in the afternoon to the stables where she would brush her favorite mare Jessie before returning to the house in the evening to watch her favorite programs while drifting to sleep serenaded by the crickets and bullfrogs who rose to sing every warm spring and summer night.
Oh how glorious life was in those early days for Indie as she had yet to learn how cruel a joke her real mother had played on her. How bitterly she would curse and spit if she had an inkling of the cosmic fluke that had led to her pastoral existence. But in those early years, those blessed, beautiful, ignorant years she was blissfully unaware of the Trojan horse that lay in her loins, waiting patiently and vigilantly to spring itself upon her unsuspecting body.
Chapter 2 "Stuff Gets Messed Up"
Seasons pass, leaves spring forth, live, wither, and die. All the while age creeps unnoticed upon the young forcing them to grow into adults. Indie, that sweet innocent, God-loved child was not exept from this, and by the time she had reached the sixth grade upon her 18th birthday she began to notice changes in her body. Her armpits would cry great stinky tears, and rough curly hair sprang forth in the most inconvenient of places with such frequency and tenacity she was forced to shave thrice daily. Also she noticed three distinct additions to her lower body.
By the vulgar talk of the field hands she was able to identify them as a "Weiner" and two "Doo-Danglers". She had never expected to grow them overnight, much less ones of such obvious quality. The weiner by her measure must've been no less than 8 inches in length, while the doo-danglers extended a mere 3 inches where they hung snuggled close to her body by a fleshy sac. The girth of the wiener was considerable, it was enough to prevent Indie from being able to wrap the fingers of her slim girlish hand around it completely. She gasped as she felt the soft carress on her recent addition. "Incredible!" she though. She rubbed her hand accross the massive thingy again. The kip-snikety was growing rapidly and raising itself into the air, like an angel with two droopy wings. It pushed the baby blue skirt that she wore high into the air before it fell back into her soft patch of golden blonde wiener hairs.
"Oh my gosh!" Indie wispered as she grasped the now throbing dub-snupper with a second hand. She felt like she was floating on the wind of a thousand overblown rm2k game ideas. The sensation shook her and she fell to her knees overcome with ecstasy, like Wish-Moo when she sees a lawyer. She had never felt this way. She was confused, not unlike that jackass Happy Mair trying to understand why Carl Jung is a douche, and that allegories, far from being childish, are infact marvelously beautiful ways to tell stories and impart lessons that would otherwise seem dull and tired. The muscles in her legs tightened up and she felt a chill from the very tips of her toes to the top of her head. Then she became aware of another sensation, one more familiar, but just as powerful
It was an emptiness, a great gaping longing in between her pale, milky thighs. She had always resisted this urge, but she was too excited to ignore it this time. Indie's eyes shot around the storage cellar in which she kneeled before they rested on a Zuchini she had placed in a basket to bring up for dinner. She grasped it with one hand, the anticipation was incredible. The only thing she had ever wanted so bad in her entire life was for Episode 6 to finaly be released. Slowly she moved the Zuchini south of the Mason-Dixon line.
TO BE CONTINUED
I'm not sure I should give away anymore of this for free. I mean I haven't seen 1 red cent for either "Crestfallen" or "The Way". I figured after reading the trash that everyone else puts on the board you could use something with a little bit of a pedigree so to speak.
Rather than releasing the entire story, which is already written, I'm going to break it into episodes and string it out over a long period of time claiming not to have finished them, or to be fine tweaking them. In essence I'm going to hold "The Unhappy Misfortunate Story Of Inderos" hostage until I get some sort of affirmation or adulation. I'll do this mainly to feed my ego which has become massive ever since I started banging this fine Filipino chick. Yeah that's right Inderos, I moved on.