Interlude Report: Harriet Danes Upper Sixth Form Kunt College December 2049 Dear Mr & Mrs Danes, Harriet has had a very successful autumn term. She has maintained her high marks in English, French and Fucking and, whilst she has found the Further Fucking syllabus quite challenging in some respects (she needs to work hard on deep-throating, and prepping her anal, for example), her devotion to her chosen fetish, and the hou...

Claire stood barefoot on the tiled Kitchen floor, her favourite lemon-yellow sundress clinging lightly to her hips. The hem danced around her thighs as she moved, soft fabric brushing bare skin. She opened the oven, a waft of hot air spilling out and fogging her glasses slightly. Two golden sponge cakes sat in the tins, risen perfectly. She bent to pull them out, and that was all it took. The dress rode up just enough to...

Julie was my sister with whom, for several years, I maintained an incestuous relationship until she moved to Europe, and we lost contact. Fifteen years later, I received the painful news that she had died in a traffic accident. I had to travel to France, where she had been living all those years. The police did me the favor of driving me to what had been her apartment, a small place filled with books. Her mattress was on...

Don't Mind the Pound Cake You came into the house with an exhausted groan. Work had been hard with the economy hitting an all-time low. This meant everyone was afraid of being laid off by the higher-ups who had been sitting themselves. You had enough money in your savings account for you two to survive two months. Plus, your girlfriend was working hard, being a freelancer. Still, you had no intention of letting her become...

I was getting dressed, anxiously, not knowing what to expect next from Becky. Would she tell Lisa? I could not imagine that happening, since Lisa would probably be equally mad with her. But more and more guilty feelings towards Lisa started racing in my mind. What had I done? How could I have let this happen? I was about to cry out in despair! On the other hand, I probably would not be able to withstand Becky if she reall...

The name is Ouettecunte: Jane Ouettecunte. A highly distinguished old Saxon name, I am told by my husband. Mine was Bloggs; so you could say I have married into pedigree – and it suits me. Ouettecunte is, of course, the Norman bastardisation: the Wettkunts were a noble Wessex family who curried favour with the invaders and were granted a bishopric in perpetuity in what was then called Wiltshire. So they are terribly respe...

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE First a brief orchestral prelude, and we’re back to the RAF again, where it is still Friday 16th July 2060, but later in the afternoon. “Cocks and cunts!” Dr Dick held centre stage again. “It is time for us to proceed to the finale of this week’s proceedings – which I know you have all been looking forward to.” There was a hubbub of excitement from the audience. “What you are about to witness is utterly...

He stepped into the café just as I finished my meal. It was a little before three on a Wednesday afternoon, so there were only a few other customers besides us. I'd worked through my lunch break due to an unexpected mini-crisis at the office. By the time I got it resolved, I was famished and eager to escape my job for an hour. The man sat at a table near mine. My gaze lingered on him while he removed his suit coat and dra...