I Bore Mr. Muggles’s Secret Love Puppies!!!
by Chyrel Coffman
A True Untold Secret Confessions Exclusive “Doggy Dish!”
My story begins, as so many do, in front of the television, on a fair, almost-
Fall Today evening at our “wrong-side-of-the-trailer-park-and-tracks” home
in Odessa, Texas. I’d already taken my Mom for a walk, Dad had gotten out a
six-pack of Lone Star (that’s the ONLY kind six-pack we’ll ever see on HIS
abs!), and we’d all settled on the sofa, to watch the local news
I didn’t pay much attention at first. It was just the same old stuff. We all know
that the only thing a Bush is good for is for dogs to pee on, and Primatech
Paper Company (that’s where Dad works!) is always donating something to
Union Wells High School, because that’s where children go to school. But
then a picture came on the screen that made me swallow whole the
Whoppers ball that I sneaked from Mom!
Oh, my ears and paws! Oh, my sweet Anubis! OH MY BLESSED LASSIE, RIN
TIN-TIN, BEETHOVEN AND BENJI!!!! It was Mr. Muggles! My body got all hot;
my tongue flopped out of my mouth, drool puddled on the carpet, and Dad’s
leg began looking pretty damned attractive! I piddled on the floor.
READ MORE...
by Chyrel Coffman
A True Untold Secret Confessions Exclusive “Doggy Dish!”
My story begins, as so many do, in front of the television, on a fair, almost-
Fall Today evening at our “wrong-side-of-the-trailer-park-and-tracks” home
in Odessa, Texas. I’d already taken my Mom for a walk, Dad had gotten out a
six-pack of Lone Star (that’s the ONLY kind six-pack we’ll ever see on HIS
abs!), and we’d all settled on the sofa, to watch the local news
I didn’t pay much attention at first. It was just the same old stuff. We all know
that the only thing a Bush is good for is for dogs to pee on, and Primatech
Paper Company (that’s where Dad works!) is always donating something to
Union Wells High School, because that’s where children go to school. But
then a picture came on the screen that made me swallow whole the
Whoppers ball that I sneaked from Mom!
Oh, my ears and paws! Oh, my sweet Anubis! OH MY BLESSED LASSIE, RIN
TIN-TIN, BEETHOVEN AND BENJI!!!! It was Mr. Muggles! My body got all hot;
my tongue flopped out of my mouth, drool puddled on the carpet, and Dad’s
leg began looking pretty damned attractive! I piddled on the floor.
READ MORE...
FAN FICTION PAGE
SegWorld
By Slippy Lane
How to Begin?
I think the best thing I can do here is tell you a little about
myself. My name is Lucien, and I suppose I am what you
would call an evolved human. Here and now though, I and
the rest of my kind are known colloquially as "segs".
It means segregated.
Our kind of segregation isn't such a bad thing, really. We
have our own world.
READ MORE...
By Slippy Lane
How to Begin?
I think the best thing I can do here is tell you a little about
myself. My name is Lucien, and I suppose I am what you
would call an evolved human. Here and now though, I and
the rest of my kind are known colloquially as "segs".
It means segregated.
Our kind of segregation isn't such a bad thing, really. We
have our own world.
READ MORE...
The Samaritan Cometh
By Brian Lewis a.ka. Red Vector
Before the change, I was a wheelchair bound comic geek and graphic artist
named Clayton Anderson. When I wasn’t doing advertising work I was
working on getting my first graphic novel published. The name of the novel
was The Samaritan. It’s a pretty dark story of a mysterious antihero with a
violent past. It’s pretty standard stuff really; you know you’ve seen it in
other mediums many times before. Of course I didn’t feel it was “standard”
at the time so needless to say the rejection notices began to pile up. The
reasons for rejecting it varied, one said it was “too violent” another said
“not violent enough.” One even said “it’s too mainstream” whatever the
hell that means. After the fifth rejection, to say that I was depressed would
be the understatement of the century. One night I was ready to dump it in
the trash when my e-mail notification chimed. It was from Isaac Mendez, it
was down right spooky considering the circumstances....
READ MORE...
By Brian Lewis a.ka. Red Vector
Before the change, I was a wheelchair bound comic geek and graphic artist
named Clayton Anderson. When I wasn’t doing advertising work I was
working on getting my first graphic novel published. The name of the novel
was The Samaritan. It’s a pretty dark story of a mysterious antihero with a
violent past. It’s pretty standard stuff really; you know you’ve seen it in
other mediums many times before. Of course I didn’t feel it was “standard”
at the time so needless to say the rejection notices began to pile up. The
reasons for rejecting it varied, one said it was “too violent” another said
“not violent enough.” One even said “it’s too mainstream” whatever the
hell that means. After the fifth rejection, to say that I was depressed would
be the understatement of the century. One night I was ready to dump it in
the trash when my e-mail notification chimed. It was from Isaac Mendez, it
was down right spooky considering the circumstances....
READ MORE...
The Midtown Xenoglossist
By Jeff Urban
“спасибо!”, I breathlessly blurted, thanking “en passant” the
stooped Ukranian man who pointed out both the distant location
and imminent arrival of my beloved 3 Train, whose intermittency
had become a real source of annoyance in recent months. The
nominal reason is “flooding”, but I’m convinced it’s a conspiracy to
force more people to walk everywhere thereby increasing local
Chapstick and coffee sales. Anyway, Krista and I were supposed to
meet for lunch in Chinatown and as neither of us were very
excited about walking in the brutal arctic landscape that is early
February in Manhattan, we agreed to do the public transport thing
and then the search-and-cell for one another thing.
As I emerged from the concrete stairwell onto Canal Street, I was
immediately thrust into the fantastic cacophony of Chinatown…in
its most placid moments, it’s almost quiet enough here to make out
the neverending parade of police sirens and angry, urgent
ambulance screeches. I’m futilely scanning the serried ranks for
her one trademark feature…a fire-hydrant-red winter coat.
Unfortunately, however, wearing red in Chinatown is more
Camouflage than Beacon.
READ MORE...
By Jeff Urban
“спасибо!”, I breathlessly blurted, thanking “en passant” the
stooped Ukranian man who pointed out both the distant location
and imminent arrival of my beloved 3 Train, whose intermittency
had become a real source of annoyance in recent months. The
nominal reason is “flooding”, but I’m convinced it’s a conspiracy to
force more people to walk everywhere thereby increasing local
Chapstick and coffee sales. Anyway, Krista and I were supposed to
meet for lunch in Chinatown and as neither of us were very
excited about walking in the brutal arctic landscape that is early
February in Manhattan, we agreed to do the public transport thing
and then the search-and-cell for one another thing.
As I emerged from the concrete stairwell onto Canal Street, I was
immediately thrust into the fantastic cacophony of Chinatown…in
its most placid moments, it’s almost quiet enough here to make out
the neverending parade of police sirens and angry, urgent
ambulance screeches. I’m futilely scanning the serried ranks for
her one trademark feature…a fire-hydrant-red winter coat.
Unfortunately, however, wearing red in Chinatown is more
Camouflage than Beacon.
READ MORE...
A Chance To Be Special
By Unlikely Hiro
Was there any warning of their arrival? A sign, a single event that set this
chain into motion? Was it a whisper in God's ear?…And if we could mark that
single moment in time, that first hint of the prophecy of approaching danger,
would we have done anything differently? Could it have been stopped?
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm looking for Chandra Suresh," Peter held up the library copy of
Activating Evolution, "He wrote a book about people with…abilities. I--I
think I may be one of them."
The man regarded Peter over his glasses, "Alright. Come in."
Peter stepped into the apartment. The man closed the door, and then
walked over to a desk. He began rooting through a drawer.
"Chandra's in L.A.," he said, "He probably won't be back until tomorrow. In
the meantime, Mister…"
"Petrelli. Peter Petrelli."
"Brian Davis. I'm one of his research assistants. You'll have to put up with
me for the moment." He found a folder and sat at the desk, "Please have a
seat."
Peter sat down. Brian steepled his fingers, "So. What do you think you can
do?" Brian held the pose as he explained how he both flew and sketched
the future.
READ MORE...
By Unlikely Hiro
Was there any warning of their arrival? A sign, a single event that set this
chain into motion? Was it a whisper in God's ear?…And if we could mark that
single moment in time, that first hint of the prophecy of approaching danger,
would we have done anything differently? Could it have been stopped?
"Can I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm looking for Chandra Suresh," Peter held up the library copy of
Activating Evolution, "He wrote a book about people with…abilities. I--I
think I may be one of them."
The man regarded Peter over his glasses, "Alright. Come in."
Peter stepped into the apartment. The man closed the door, and then
walked over to a desk. He began rooting through a drawer.
"Chandra's in L.A.," he said, "He probably won't be back until tomorrow. In
the meantime, Mister…"
"Petrelli. Peter Petrelli."
"Brian Davis. I'm one of his research assistants. You'll have to put up with
me for the moment." He found a folder and sat at the desk, "Please have a
seat."
Peter sat down. Brian steepled his fingers, "So. What do you think you can
do?" Brian held the pose as he explained how he both flew and sketched
the future.
READ MORE...
| NEW! |
| M |
| MATURE CONTENT |
Universe Next Door: The Vastlands
by Brian Lewis
Chapter One: The Emerald Expanse
A man runs naked through the dense forest of the
Emerald Expanse. From his state of undress one would
assume that he’s being pursued by a jealous husband
and his vengeful blade. Or perhaps he’s an escaped
prisoner fleeing the headsman’s axe. Another possibility
he’s an escaped slave running from a cruel master’s
whip. But his wrists and ankles do not bear the scars from
iron manacles you would find on a prisoner or a slave.
However his body does carry other scars, most notably
on his face. It runs down the right side of his face, from
the hair line of his jet black hair all the way down to the
curve of his jaw.
READ MORE...
by Brian Lewis
Chapter One: The Emerald Expanse
A man runs naked through the dense forest of the
Emerald Expanse. From his state of undress one would
assume that he’s being pursued by a jealous husband
and his vengeful blade. Or perhaps he’s an escaped
prisoner fleeing the headsman’s axe. Another possibility
he’s an escaped slave running from a cruel master’s
whip. But his wrists and ankles do not bear the scars from
iron manacles you would find on a prisoner or a slave.
However his body does carry other scars, most notably
on his face. It runs down the right side of his face, from
the hair line of his jet black hair all the way down to the
curve of his jaw.
READ MORE...
| NEW SERIES |
| NEW! |
| NEW! |