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He got a nasty start a few hours later, when he came in to check on her. He'd tied her hands, her feet, thrown a loop or two around her waist, and roped everything to the bed, the chair, and the fire iron, just for good measure, He'd done everything short of hog-tying. She wasn't going to get loose in a hurry. He wasn't sure why he was bothering, really, since he had a horrible feeling that if she said "Will you untie me?" he might do it, and if she said "please," he'd definitely do it. Still, she didn't seem to be a threat conscious, so maybe that was okay. Then, because his feelings were still churning and there was nothing for emotiona

Acts of Humanity White Christmas 2068 A MORFS Universe Tale by Ray Drouillard Can the Martin family have a White Christmas at Sun City?  Read and see. sex: 1/10 violence: 0/10 profanity: 0/10 Categories: Hybrid, Elemental, PSI Timeline: 2068 In Higher and Higher part 9, we found that Tina's mother and grandmother were both pregnant.  They didn't stop there.  In this story, we get to meet: Mike Shepherd, born 6/14/2061, Age 7, Tina's uncle Steve Shepherd, born 7/18/2061, age 7, Tina's brother Angie (Angel) Shepherd, born 10/22/2062, age 6, Tina's aunt Cathy (Kitty) Shepherd, born 1/19/2063, age 5, Tina's sister Sue Jones married Aaro

Celadon Toadstool was delirious. The funny bit—uproariously funny, it seemed to her—was that she knew she was delirious. The world was billowing around her. It looked as if someone had meticulously painted the inside of a cottage on silk, and then hung it in a gentle breeze. The corners floated inward and collapsed back out again with a sigh. That someone would go to all that trouble, painting a cottage on silk, was hilarious. She knew she was wounded. She couldn't quite remember how she'd been wounded. Imagine not remembering a thing like that! This also struck her as hilarious. Her name, in Orcish, was Urrsharruk-gah, and she had skin

Celadon woke up in the elf's arms. This sounded a lot more romantic than it actually was. For one thing, learning to sleep in proximity to another person is an acquired skill. You learn what to do with the arm that always seems to get stuck between you and where to put your feet and whether they mind having a leg draped over theirs and who can use whose arm as a pillow without nerve damage or a sore neck. Then there's the whole complex negotiation of blanket treaties and sheets and who gets what and who needs layers and who has to stick their feet out. Without acquiring these vital habits, you wake up pretty much like Celadon—stiff, sore,

Sings-to-Trees was being strangled. He'd always expected a patient to kill him some day, but he'd thought he would be a lot older, and it would be an angry bull or a careless moment with a manticore or something along those lines, with an outside chance of being crushed under a nearsighted troll. He really hadn't anticipated anything like this. The orc had been giggling to herself for a few minutes, and when he tried to talk to her, she only giggled harder. He didn't know if she could speak any of the languages, or if she was so delirious that she wasn't even hearing him. He had no real idea what the normal temperature for an orc was, but h

Sings-to-Trees's primary thought through the whole violent encounter was Not the throat again! His neck hurt. He felt like a troll had used his esophagus as a dance floor. This could not be healthy. If he lived through this, he swore he would be nice to his throat for the rest of the year. Hot teas. Scarfs during winter. Anything. For awhile, he didn't think he was going to live to see sunrise, let alone winter. Then she'd apologized. The orc had stood there, with a distinctly sheepish expression on her face, and she'd apologized. None of his patients ever apologized. Most of them couldn't talk, and it didn't seem to occur to the ones who