We were mid-moan, tangled in sweat and sheets, when I looked up—and it was there. Too tall. Too still. Watching with eyes it doesn’t have. I didn’t scream. I couldn’t. I just kept choking on fear while he kept moving, unaware we weren’t alone.
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He moved like no one I’d ever seen on the dance floor and that night, in the forest, we kissed and then did more…and I knew he meant it. He was different. It doesn’t matter how many men or women I find myself entangled with, lustfully beneath the light of the moon…I’ll never forget the first.
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The fog never lifts on the trail. You run because you have to—because something terrible waits if you stop. Shapes shift in the mist. Memories twitch just out of reach. You always end up back at the beginning, but something’s different this time. Maybe it’s you.
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She stands at the edge of the sea; empty eyes fixed on the sky. Her body ignites. Flames ripple through her shredded skin, then through her dress like ribbons caught in the wind.
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Gender is a construct. Rebel. Put on mother’s dress. Take a voyage through identity, liberation, and self-acceptance as mapped by this story’s lens of whimsy.
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Join the conversation in “Restaurant workers be like” as Abigail seeks the perfect name for her whimsical fall drink, blending flavors and vivid imagination.
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Dive into an extraordinary weekend at Echo Bay as the Aquarius Wave pulses with bioluminescent psykotrix algae! Join us for an unforgettable experience at Corsair Cabaret!
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In a dimly lit gentlemen’s club, an owner/barmaid encounters the enigmatic Caspian Shipley. Their tense exchange raises questions about ambition, power, and the strange possibilities of a midday lull.
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The head librarian of Eldertide Polytechnic University juggles an immense collection with an eccentric flair. Beneath the surface, questions of competence and sanity intertwine with the mysteries of the stacks.
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Thompson Heritage Ranch hides a legacy steeped in shadows, and young Gabriel is its next inheritor. As his family changes, so too does his understanding of the terror they hold close.
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It's too late to wake...The Voidspire has you now.
You've joined a cult. Yes, this is a cult. Oh what a nightmare!
You! Of all people! What would your mother say?
You may think this happened against your will, but I assure you, it didn’t. You agreed when I lured you in with my charm, a gift or your own curiosity. Whatever. Who keeps track? What's important is you're stuck here. This tale is endless and you're part of my story now.Â
You're about to find yourself where every Unboundling begins: an entry-level Lürkmire with dark aspirations of rising through the ranks. Feel free to complete your profile or leave it blank, we've no profile completion expectation---actually, there's two rules here...the first is, don't get overwhelmed. I will be around to answer all of your questions along the way. You're in my netherscape now but I won't let any harm come to you...probably...the second rule is: keep Him everdreaming, placid, coiled and always endless sleeping.
Welcome to the Voidspire Consortium
Don’t care to be immortalized as the protagonist in one of my wicked tales?
...well, I assume I don’t have to explain how to close a browser window. Run along if that's the case.
