Circle of Eights, Stories

Forums Yurara Fameliki’s Stories Circle of Eights, Stories

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  • #78


      Back from the depths of his sleep, the dragon Naasir exhaled in a puff of smoke. He’d just woven a wonderful dream —for all dragons and creatures do dream of course, even if most humans doubt it.

      Yawning, Naasir stretched out his long slithery body. Fully stretched, his body was an impressive sight to behold. He was quite old by human standards, while in fact, he was still in his youth, and could very well stay as rambunctiously lively for many other long centuries.

      He had given the final touch to a new world he had been creating in his dream time for many nights now, and was rather proud of it —even if dragons knew no such thing as pride, his feeling at this very moment was very akin to being proud.

      He had filled this world with many wonders, dragons of course, and other creatures yet to be named. And magic was all pervasive in that world, and so slightly cloaked, that it could be used by many.
      It would be a great playground he thought, for he was not a possessive and dictatorial dragon. In fact, he could feel some others were about to step in, and tell and live the story of that world.

      Sighing in delight, like a sleepy cat of majestic dimensions, he cuddled again, about to sink deeply into the harp music playing in his mind, ready to dream and let that story be told again…

      Another Never Ending Story

      Malvina. That name had been thrown into a conversation Yann and Quintin had had together, during which Quintin had felt images come into his awareness. He had instantly liked that name.
      He was feeling the aura of a woman, long hair of a pale rosy color, with a noble bearing. That name had been around, and they had played with it to find more impressions.
      And they had felt it linked to breeding of dragons, in a sort of rookery.

      They’ve both felt her connected to Malika, an online friend of them, whose gentle touch and kindly influence, as well as her passion for dragons seemed to fit in quite interestingly.

      Then on an impulse, Quintin had begun to paint an image around it, letting his feeling guide his movements. He’d loved the peaceful environment he’d drawn, and even if he was not wont to share “unfinished” drawings, he immediately shared the initial sketches with Yann and Fiona.

      They both loved it, and Fiona even considered for a moment adopting one of the cute baby dragons to be born.
      “Buckberry” : that was the name Quintin felt for the baby dragon… But he did not see any character in that picture for Fiona. She would have to decide to step in, to get that baby dragon. What character would she be? A young impetuous rude adventuress, or an o(w)ld wizened witch? Perhaps a bit of both?

      These thoughts were now coming back to him.
      Ever since he had seen Yann’s pictures, those taken when he’d been in Old Albion, he had felt that something strange was manifesting.
      One of these intriguing coincidences: the picture of a cave that Yann has been visiting looked so strikingly similar to Malvina’s Rookery… And that playful kid in the cave was probably linked to Yann.

      So, now that the painting was finished, perhaps he could have people join in the fun. All that was required was imagination…

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    • #1091

        “Get you hands off my bosoms, you cheeky blighter!” exclaimed Felicity, the downstairs maid.

        The drugs that she had added to Sir Coon’s tea were evidently starting to take effect. He was hallucinating.


          Finnley’s wig had fallen over the carpet, and actually she was bald. Her false eyebrows had fallen also and revealed a neat and gracious line of feminine eyebrow.

          — You’re a far better catch Finnley than I could have hoped for with Lady Theresa… I don’t regret our encounter in the library.

          He was titillating her nipples thoughtlessly and pinching them at times triggering an expression of pleasure on Finnley’s face.
          She was beautiful after… well, what they did.


            “….he took care of Finnley in the library in no time.” Becky read, wondering just what “took care of” meant in this case.


              Felicity was the middlename of Finnley, and she was quite joyful actually…


                She put her hands on his balls, and her hungry look said more to him to any love whispers he had ever heard before.
                “I love your 2 big pink balls”.

                Noise in the corridor.
                Finnley looked suddenly afraid.
                Lady Theresa’s coming”…
                They fumbled upon each other, trying to get back their clothes but could only half do it before she entered the library.
                She gasped at the scene before her eyes.
                Finnley! what on earth?..”


                  Well, I think you just got your answer, Becky, she said to herself, as she read the recent additions. Blimey O Riley! Where to go from here, I wonder? I think it might be best, she surmised, to continue with Hector hallucinating. After all, that will explain any bizarre eventuality.


                    Lady Theresa was aghast, she had always thought Finnley was a man, and his rudeness was excusable… but now…


                      BREATHE, Finnley, just BREATHE” whispered Rudiah, the upstairs parlour maid. “Just agree with him, it’s easier. It will pass when the drugs wear off. BREATHE……”


                      T'Eggy Gets a Good Rodgering / Take 57

                      :multimedia: CUUUUUUUT!

                      Marvin Scrozzezi sighed heavily. He wondered if that was a good idea to have accepted to make a porno remake version of Red October: Lady Chesterlaid VS James Bong


                        “But where is PHLYNN, Rudiah, for god’s sake, he is supposed to be here. You don’t think maybe he’s a double agent do you?” Finnley whispered tersely. “And more to the point, where’s the bloody watermelon?”

                        SSHHHHH!!” Rudiah elbowed him painfully in the ribs. “Lady T’Egg!” She pointed towards the door which had swung open, revealing Lady Theresa Eagleston. She looked furious.


                        Rosemary, who played the role of Finnley as a woman, just slapped Norm in the face.
                        You butcher! you scratched my nipples… you have no manners, really!

                        He laughed carelessly and her impression of him as a stupid lad just deepened.


                        She put her tutu back on her generous breast and looked around her at all those naked actors…
                        She was weary of this life as a porn star. Her wig, she won’t loose her again, her blond wig…
                        When she was young she was a cootch dancer, and it wasn’t really much better but at least her father could protect her.
                        Now she was alone, facing all those brutes.


                          :yahoo_rofl: Becky was laughing her arse off.


                            Then she took a sip of her tea and spluttered it all on Gayesh’s appalled face, as she was rolling on the floor laughing again and again.


                            Norm Al Ladd, christened Norman Allan Ladd, was seriously beginning to wonder what kind of production he had signed himself up with. Never in his career as a P movie actor had me met such an odd cast.


                            “Fancy a cuppa, Sue?” Norm asked.

                            Sue Flay accepted gratefully. “Yeah, Norm, a cuppa sounds nice”. What a day it had been.

                            “Mad bunch of nutters, this lot, eh?” Norm smiled ruefully.

                            “I should say so!” replied Sue. “Are all movie people as wacky as this?”

                            It was Sue Flay’s first venture into movies, although she was already famous as the singer with the Ova Tones, the popular all girl band.

                            “No, they’re not” replied Norm. “Frankly, no, they are not this mad usually. This is a decidedly odd bunch, if you ask me”.

                            “Oooh” said Sue, momentarily speechless. “Hhmmmm”.


                              “Watermelon produces an effect similar to that of Viagra, researchers say. A slice of juicy watermelon contains citrulline that can trigger the production of a substance that relaxes the body’s blood vessels. A similar effect is produced when a man takes a Viagra pill.”

                              “Well, that might explain a few things” thought Becky.

                              “However, the vegetable is not so organ-specific as Viagra…..”

                              “Hmm, I wonder if that would explain the butler’s preposterous breasts ?”


                              “Nice cuppa, Norm, what kind is it? Doesn’t taste like Typhoo” asked Sue.

                              “Oh, it’s a herbal one I think, let me see” said Norm, rummaging in the bin for the wrapper. “Never seem to get a cup of ordinary tea these days, it’s all herbal stuff. Here it is: Siberian Watermelon and Mushroom”.

                              “Tastes quite nice” replied Sue, holding her cup out for a refill.


                              A report of another typhoon (named Tatiana) added in the really long list of this active season was announced at the radio.
                              All flights to Long Pong and the vicinity were delayed until further news broadcast.


                              Elizabeth Tattler giggled to herself as she recalled her escapades of the night before. Why, it was years since she had been out dancing, and let alone in foom! Surprisingly it had been Finnley’s idea. A bit of a dark horse really that Finnley. Apparently she went to the foom parties regularly, on the pretext of dancing, but in reality to save on her laundry costs.

                              Oh what a gloorious feeling! The techtonook music blaring, stroobe lights flashing, wet bubbly foom up to her neck. It wasn’t long before she had cast all her inhibitions aside, along with her cloothing, and was mooving and grooving along with the best of them.

                              Who said dirty dancing couldn’t be good clean fun?

                              Even Finnley’s rather disparaging sideways glances had not been able to diminish her exooberant joy.

                              Elizabeth wondered what Lemone’s “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was for that day. His words were always so appropriate it was almost eerie.

                              When it’s too elaborate, it’s too weirdo, and when it’s pure delirium, it’s increasingly rubbish

                              Well, perhaps the connection was not straight away obvious, but the sheer genius of the man’s mind never failed to render Elizabeth almost speechless with admiration.

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