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  1. Author's Note Hi! I'm Nicky, and I'm thrilled to join the Daily Diapers Community. Writing has been a passion of mine for many years, and over time, I've created numerous drafts and story ideas on ABDL that I've kept to myself—until now. I finally gathered the courage to share something, and I truly hope you enjoy it. I'm looking forward to connecting with fellow ABDL here. 😊 ____________________________________________________________________________ The Web of Lies is a psychological thriller about trust, manipulation, and the slow unraveling of a seemingly perfect life. Alan, a confident and successful man in his 40s, begins to notice strange things happening—small accidents, unexpected loss of control, and concerns raised by his wife, Lisa, about his health. At first, they seem like minor worries, but they slowly grow into a pattern that makes Alan question himself and his ability to stay dry. The story explores how care can become control and how easy it is to doubt your own reality when someone you love plants those doubts. This is a story about the power of suggestion and how even the strongest minds can be tested when trust is twisted. It’s a gripping tale that will keep readers guessing at every turn. Enjoy! 🙃 P.S Comments are much appreciated! ____________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: The Waiting Room Alan sat on a stiff leather chair in the pristine waiting room of Dr. Hargrove’s office. The walls were painted a muted, calming gray, adorned with abstract art that didn’t quite command attention. The faint hum of the air conditioning filled the silence, occasionally interrupted by the muted voices of the receptionist on the phone or the shuffle of a patient’s feet down the hallway. Across the room, a small fountain gurgled softly, its soothing sound doing little to ease Alan’s tension. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second dragging on longer than the last. Alan glanced at his watch, its familiar face offering no comfort, and then at the closed door leading to the doctor’s office. His knee bounced anxiously, a nervous rhythm that betrayed the calm façade he tried to maintain. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he thought. This wasn’t his life. His world revolved around work deadlines, weekend barbecues, and the occasional round of golf. He was the guy everyone called when they needed a laugh or a drinking buddy, not the one sitting outside a doctor’s office, waiting to hear about someone else’s medical troubles. Yet here he was, summoned by Lisa’s concerned tone and Alan’s unspoken distress. Alan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze wandered over the room. He noticed the small details now, the way his mind always did when he was trying to distract himself: the slight scuff on the baseboard near the door, the stack of outdated magazines on the low glass coffee table, the faint smell of antiseptic that lingered beneath the air conditioning. He let his eyes close for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. How did it come to this? Alan, his best friend, had always been the confident one—the guy who seemed to have everything together. Yet over the past two months, something had shifted. Alan couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but looking back, the signs were there. One memory led to another, each connected like a breadcrumb trail. And it all started two months ago, on that seemingly perfect morning. *Flashback* The day had started peacefully. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of their modern kitchen, illuminating the marble countertops and the gleaming stainless-steel appliances. Alan sat at the breakfast table, his coffee steaming beside him as he scrolled through his phone. His focus was split between work emails and the calendar notification reminding him of his packed schedule. It was the kind of morning that felt routine, unremarkable—until Lisa called his name. “Alan,” her voice came from the laundry room, gentle but carrying an edge of something he couldn’t quite place. He barely looked up. “Yeah?” “Can you come here for a second?” she asked, her tone shifting slightly—soft, yet insistent. Alan sighed, setting his phone down as he stood. He walked to the laundry room, where Lisa stood by the counter, her blonde hair neatly tied back, the faint scent of her citrus shampoo filling the air. She was holding something in her hand, her fingers pinching the edges delicately, like it might fall apart. “These were in the laundry,” she said, lifting a pair of his white briefs for him to see. Alan froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. “What about them?” Lisa hesitated, her expression a careful mix of concern and discomfort. She tilted the briefs toward him. “There’s… a stain.” Alan moved closer, his heart skipping a beat as he saw what she was pointing to. A faint yellowish blotch marred the otherwise pristine fabric, spreading in the center like an unwelcome accusation. His face flushed. “That can’t be mine.” Lisa tilted her head slightly, her soft blue eyes locking onto his. “Alan, it was in your side of the hamper.” “Well, I didn’t do that,” he snapped, snatching the briefs from her hand and holding them up as though examining them closer might make the stain disappear. “It’s probably detergent or something. Maybe it didn’t rinse properly.” Lisa’s expression didn’t change. If anything, her concern seemed to deepen. “Maybe,” she said slowly, her tone calm and measured. “But it doesn’t look like detergent to me.” Alan tossed the briefs onto the counter, feeling his frustration mount. “I would know if something like that happened, Lisa. This is ridiculous.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch light but steady. “Alan, I know this is uncomfortable to talk about, but things like this happen sometimes. Especially if you’ve been under stress.” “I’m not under stress,” he said sharply, pulling his arm away. “I don’t have—whatever it is you’re implying.” Lisa blinked, stepping back slightly as though his reaction had startled her. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying, if something’s going on, it’s better to catch it early. That’s all.” Alan stared at her, his mind racing. Was she serious? Did she actually think…? He shook his head, grabbing the briefs again and tossing them into the laundry basket. “There’s nothing going on. It’s just a stain, okay? End of story.” Lisa nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice almost apologetic. “I just don’t want you to feel embarrassed if it happens again.” “It’s not going to happen again because it didn’t happen in the first place,” Alan muttered, storming out of the laundry room and back to the kitchen. As he sat down at the table, Alan’s thoughts churned. He picked up his coffee but didn’t drink it, staring instead at the swirling steam. Lisa’s voice echoed in his mind. Stress. Things like this happen sometimes. It didn’t make sense. He was healthy, active. Sure, work was demanding, but it wasn’t like he was losing sleep over it. Wasn’t he? He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Lisa was probably just overreacting. She worked in healthcare, after all. Nurses were trained to see problems even where there weren’t any, always looking for signs of trouble. That’s all this was, he told himself—Lisa being overly cautious. Nothing more. Lisa watched him from the doorway, her arms folded loosely across her chest. Her face betrayed no emotion, but inside, she was already thinking ahead. The first step was always the most delicate, but it had gone exactly as she’d hoped. A little stain, a little concern, just enough to make him doubt himself. She could tell by the way he stormed out that she’d struck a nerve. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she turned back to the laundry, picking up the briefs again and tossing them into the wash. It wasn’t about the stain itself—it never was. It was about planting the seed, a tiny whisper in his mind that something might be wrong. All she had to do now was water it. *End of Flashback* Alan leaned forward in his seat in the waiting room, staring at the floor tiles as memories rolled through his mind like a film on loop. His knee bounced restlessly, a steady rhythm that betrayed the calm he tried to project. His hand drifted to the edge of the chair, gripping it tightly as he recalled the golf course incident—an otherwise normal day that had spiraled into something else entirely. *Flashback* The sun was warm on his back, the breeze cool and refreshing as it rustled through the trees lining the course. Alan had always loved golfing with Poll. It was one of the few places where he could unwind, leave behind the endless emails and meetings that occupied his weekdays, and simply exist. That day had been no different—or at least, it hadn’t started out that way. “Two strokes ahead already?” Poll said, shaking his head as he set down his club. “You’re showing off, man. Stop making me look bad.” Alan laughed, adjusting his cap as they walked to the next hole. “Maybe you need to practice more instead of blaming me.” Poll groaned theatrically, grabbing his iced tea from the cart and taking a long sip. “Practice? That’s for people who don’t have natural talent.” Alan smirked, lining up his shot. He took a deep breath, grounding himself in the rhythm of the game, and swung. The satisfying crack of the ball echoed, and Poll let out an exaggerated whistle as it soared across the course, landing near the green. “Show-off,” Poll muttered, grinning. “You’re lucky I’m such a good sport.” “Just admit I’m better,” Alan shot back, leaning on his club. The banter continued as they finished the first nine holes and parked the cart near the clubhouse for a quick break. They found a small outdoor table with a view of the course, and Alan stretched his legs, letting the breeze cool him down. Poll was in high spirits, gesturing wildly as he recounted a story about a disastrous flight he’d been on. “So, I’m sitting there,” Poll said, waving his iced tea for emphasis, “and the guy next to me starts sneezing. I’m thinking, great, I’m catching something. Then—” Poll’s hand clipped the edge of his glass, and the tea tipped forward in slow motion, splashing across the table and onto Alan’s lap. “Damn it!” Poll exclaimed, grabbing napkins. “Sorry, man. My bad.” Alan stood quickly, brushing at the cold, wet fabric. “It’s fine,” he said, chuckling lightly. “It’s just tea. No harm done.” “Still, let me—” Poll started, but Alan waved him off. Alan wiped at his pants, trying to make light of it. He wasn’t thrilled to be walking around with damp pants, but it wasn’t the end of the world. These things happened. Poll was about to let it go when he spotted Lisa walking toward them. She was carrying her tote bag, dressed in a breezy summer dress that looked effortless but undoubtedly wasn’t. She flashed them both a smile as she approached. “Hey, you two,” she said brightly. “Who’s winning?” “Don’t ask,” Poll muttered, grinning. “He’s wiping the floor with me.” Lisa laughed, her eyes shifting to Alan. She hesitated for just a fraction of a second, her smile fading slightly. “Alan, what happened?” “Poll got excited and spilled his tea,” Alan said, his tone light. “No big deal.” Lisa’s gaze dropped to his lap, lingering there a moment too long. “Are you sure it’s just tea?” she asked, her voice soft, concerned. Alan’s smile faltered. “Of course it’s tea,” he said, his tone sharpening. “What else would it be?” Lisa stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m just asking. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed if it’s… something else.” “It’s tea, Lisa,” Alan snapped, louder this time. “That’s it.” Poll shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the tension rise like a storm cloud. He decided to step in. “Hey, she’s just looking out for you, man. No need to bite her head off.” Alan shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.” Lisa held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay,” she said softly. “I just wanted to check. That’s all.” Alan muttered something under his breath and walked toward the restroom, his chest tight with frustration. He didn’t even need to use the bathroom, but he needed to get away from the table, from Lisa’s quiet scrutiny and Poll’s awkward silence. Inside the cool, tiled bathroom, Alan leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed, his jaw clenched. The tea spill had been a harmless accident, but Lisa’s words clung to him like a second skin. “Are you sure it’s just tea?” she’d asked. What kind of question was that? Did she actually think he’d…? Alan shook his head, gripping the edge of the sink. He was healthy. He’d never had an issue like that in his life. The very idea was ridiculous. But the longer he stared at his reflection, the more the doubt crept in. Lisa wasn’t the type to overreact, he told himself. She was a nurse, trained to notice problems before they became serious. Maybe she saw something he didn’t. Maybe— Alan shook his head again, harder this time. No. There was nothing wrong. It was tea. That was it. He wasn’t going to let Lisa’s overactive imagination make him question himself. He straightened, splashed cold water on his face, and forced himself to take a deep breath. When he returned to the table, he plastered on a smile, ignoring the way Lisa’s eyes lingered on him as he sat down. The rest of the game passed in strained silence, the easy camaraderie of earlier completely gone. Alan tried to focus on his swing, on the feel of the club in his hands, but his mind kept drifting back to Lisa’s question and the nagging doubt it had left behind. *End of Flashback* His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen: no new messages. Just a phantom vibration, or maybe his own anxiety playing tricks on him. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his jaw tightening. His mind drifted back to the golf course. He couldn’t seem to let it go. The moment had been so innocuous, so ordinary—Poll knocking over a glass, tea spilling onto his pants. A harmless accident. Yet somehow, Lisa had managed to turn it into something else entirely. Are you sure it’s just tea? The words played on a loop in his head, each repetition chipping away at his confidence. What had she meant by that? Did she really think he’d wet himself? The absurdity of it was almost laughable, but it didn’t feel funny. It felt invasive, like she’d reached into his mind and planted a thought he didn’t want to acknowledge. And then there was the way she’d looked at him—like she was trying to see past his words, to something hidden beneath the surface. It wasn’t concern; it was something sharper, more probing. Alan shifted in his seat, the stiff leather squeaking beneath him. He hated how much power that single moment seemed to hold over him now. The way Lisa had asked the question—softly, almost innocently—made him feel like denying it was a defense in itself. Like by saying, It’s just tea, he was confirming her suspicion. Why didn’t I just let it go? he thought. Maybe if he’d laughed it off instead of snapping at her, the moment wouldn’t be stuck in his head like this. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked at him like she knew something he didn’t. But that wasn’t it, was it? The moment wasn’t stuck because of how he’d reacted—it was stuck because of how she’d framed it. She’d made him question something he hadn’t even considered. She’d made him doubt himself. His jaw tightened as the memory burned in his mind. Was that her goal? Was she trying to get under his skin? Or worse… what if she was right? Yes, of course, she’s right. Why else would he be sitting here in the doctor’s office if there wasn’t something to it? Alan’s mind shifted to another moment, weeks after the golf course incident. The dinner party. He’d almost forgotten about it—pushed it out of his mind, really—but now, sitting in the waiting room, it came rushing back with startling clarity. *Flashback* It had been a posh evening, the kind Lisa loved to orchestrate. Their friends filled the house with laughter and conversation, wine glasses clinking, the warm aroma of roasted vegetables and garlic wafting from the kitchen. Alan had been in his element, chatting with Poll and a couple of others, feeling the buzz of good food and good company. “Alan,” Lisa had called from the kitchen, her voice light and cheerful. “Can you grab the wine from the fridge?” “On it,” he’d replied, heading into the kitchen with an easy stride. He liked helping out during these gatherings; it made him feel like he was part of the team, not just the host. He opened the fridge, his fingers wrapping around the chilled bottle. As he turned, his elbow caught the edge of a glass on the counter. The water spilled before he could catch it, splashing onto the front of his shirt and pants. “Damn it,” he muttered, grabbing a towel from the counter to dab at the wet spot. It wasn’t a big deal—the water would dry—but he still felt a pang of annoyance. He hated looking anything less than put-together, especially in front of their friends. Before he could finish drying off, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowing as her gaze dropped to his pants. “What happened?” she asked, her tone concerned but with a trace of something else he couldn’t quite place. “Nothing,” Alan said, brushing it off. “I knocked over a glass. Just water.” Lisa stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the darkened patch of fabric. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. Alan froze, the towel hovering over his shirt. “What do you mean, am I sure?” he asked, his irritation bubbling to the surface. “It’s water, Lisa. What else would it be?” “I just…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his with a mix of pity and caution. “I just wanted to make sure. I don’t want you to feel ...” Alan snapped, his voice rising. “It’s water. That’s it.” Lisa’s expression softened, her lips curving into a small, apologetic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” “You didn’t upset me,” he muttered, turning back toward the living room. “I’m fine.” Lisa didn’t say anything as he walked away, but Alan could feel her gaze on his back, lingering like an unwanted touch. Alan’s jaw clenched as he walked back into the living room, his damp pants still clinging uncomfortably to his legs. He could feel the weight of his friends’ eyes on him as he approached the dining area. Conversations had continued, laughter still punctuating the air, but he was certain it had been quieter when he entered. Too quiet. Like they had been talking about him. “Everything okay, Alan?” Poll asked, his tone casual, but Alan swore there was something behind the words—a touch of concern or curiosity that made his skin prickle. “Fine,” Alan said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “Just knocked over a glass.” He sat down in his chair, forcing a smile, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that their laughter and whispers weren’t as carefree as they’d been before. His gaze darted to the group across the table, who were leaning toward one another, their voices hushed. Were they glancing at him? No, they couldn’t be—but it felt like they were. Lisa appeared behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Alan,” she said softly, her voice pitched low so only he could hear, “why don’t you go upstairs and change? You’ll feel more comfortable.” “I’m fine,” he muttered, his jaw tight. “Alan,” she insisted, her fingers squeezing his shoulder gently. “You’ll feel better if you’re not sitting in wet pants. And… I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” His head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. “The wrong idea? It’s water, Lisa. Everyone knows that.” “Of course they do,” she said quickly, her tone soothing, almost placating. “But you know how people can be. It’s better to avoid any… misunderstandings.” Alan felt a flash of heat rise to his cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from anger. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? Why was she making him feel like it was a big deal? Still, he couldn’t argue without drawing more attention. “Fine,” he said curtly, standing abruptly. He ignored the glance Poll shot him and made his way upstairs, his shoulders stiff with tension. *End of Flashback* He’d tried to forget about it after that, but the moment had stuck with him, festering in the back of his mind. Why had she asked if he was sure? Did she think he couldn’t tell the difference between water and something else? Or was it another one of those “concerns” she couldn’t seem to stop voicing lately? The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. It wasn’t just the question—it was the way she’d asked it, like she was planting a seed of doubt and waiting to see if it would grow. And the worst part? It had grown. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, even now, weeks later. It gnawed at him, made him feel like he was being scrutinized in ways he didn’t fully understand. He hated how much control those moments seemed to have over him now. The golf course, the dinner party, even the damn laundry stain—it all felt connected somehow, like pieces of a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. Am I overthinking this? he wondered. Or is she really doing this on purpose? The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its rhythm blending with the hum of the air conditioning. Alan’s jaw clenched as the memories looped in his mind, each one heavier than the last. Why can’t I just let it go? But deep down, he knew why. It wasn’t just the moments themselves—it was the way they made him feel. Like he was losing control. Like the ground beneath his feet wasn’t as solid as it used to be. And that was what scared him the most. ____________________________________________________ To be continued ____________________________________________________
  2. Author's Note Hi this is my first story and I would appreciate your thoughts and any criticisms you might have! I'm going to start off slow so this first bit will be about world building and introductions. Later parts are sure to have the content you're looking for, so bear with me ?. I'm not sure how frequent I'll update this but I'll try my best to at least update once a week. I don't know what kind of content warnings are typical for stories like this. There will definitely be diapers and punishments but nothing explicitly sexual (like sex toys or mention of genitals). My writing is a bit rusty, but I'm sure the more I update this the more I'll shake it off. Also I'm not sure what tags to use, so if anyone has any recommendations I'd appreciate it! Well I think that's all I have to say for now. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! Part 1: Welcome to Nikos Emily hid in the shadows of the alley she had dashed into as the guards ran past. Smirking at having successfully carried out another job, she stayed close to the walls as she crept down the dark streets back towards her hideout. Emily Silverton hadn't asked for the life she had been given, but she didn't exactly regret it either. The world was harsh and cruel, only the strong survived. So she did what she had to in order to survive, even if it meant other people got hurt. The life of a rouge was lonely, and dangerous, but the rewards were well worth it. Sure she had to live a life steeped in secrecy and danger, but she was free. True freedom wasn't easy to come by, at least not when you lived in the royal capital. Strict laws and heavy patrolling by the guards created a heavy atmosphere for the residents of Nikos, well the poor ones anyway. The guards always seemed to be looking for the slightest infraction so they could carry out what they saw as 'justice' to some poor person, simply because there was nothing else for them to do. Obviously Emily was proof that there were still criminals in the royal capital, so there was a justifiable reason for the presence of the guards, it was just that they were too good at what they did. Every time a crime took place the criminals were in and out in minutes, the trail long gone by the time the guards arrived. This drove the higher ranking members of society absolutely nuts. Emily chuckled at the thought of the Captain of the Guards face going red with rage when his grunts told him how another rouge had managed to out maneuver them once again. He was a particularly nasty old man who seemed to have a heart of stone, carrying out the letter of the law no matter the circumstances. Emily had even heard of him throwing a child in the dungeon for forgetting to pay for an apple from a fruit stall. Of course it was probably just some myth, but Emily knew that there was always a grain of truth in myths and other tall tales. Pissing off cold-hearted bastards like the Captain was one of the benefits of her career, and one of things that made her love it so much. Checking to ensure she wasn't being followed or watched, Emily quickly made her way to the Sleeping Ogre. Opening the door Emily found the tavern to be empty as usual, save for the usual faces of her compatriots. The Sleeping Ogre was actually just a front for Emily and her crew. While they don't actually work on any jobs together, or particularly trust each other, they do share this little hideout. Living a life of crime in the royal capital was not an easy life, and the only way to live a long life this way was if you were careful. This motely crew had all had their fair share of close calls with the guards, and decided it would be better to band together. This way they could all sleep a little easier knowing they had someone keeping an eye out while they slept. "And what can I get for you young lady?" Erik asked as Emily sat down at the bar. Erik was the face for their hideout, he worked behind the bar and kept the place looking good. He was a bit taller then an average man and had shoulder length black hair and green eyes. His skin was dark brown and he always had a casual demeanor about him, and was a very good actor. "Oh whatever you recommend good sir." Emily answered with a laugh. They always liked to play this little act whenever completing a job, just incase there were some guards poking around. Erik chuckled as he set about getting some ale for her. "You seem chipper." Boomed Groog from his table near the door. Groog was the strongest of the group, he played the role of security for the Sleeping Ogre and was the watchdog for the group. He was practically the exact opposite of Erik in everyway. Pale skin, blue eyes, short sandy hair, and a stout but muscular build. The two were an odd pair and tended to be enough to scare the townsfolk away from the establishment. "What can I say? Life is good." Emily responded as she took a swig of her drink. A loud yawn from one of the booths pierced the silence of the room as Pete 'woke up'. "Well I'd say naptimes over wouldn't you?" Pete said as he got up and stretched. This was his code phrase for 'the coast is clear' and the rest of the group relaxed into dropping their facades for the evening. Pete was the oldest of the group and he played the part of grouchy old drunk. He pretended to nap in the booth and would pretend to be an angry drunk old man in order to chase people out. The Sleeping Ogre was actually named by the locals because of Pete and the group decided to stick with the name. Within their group of criminals he was the resident forger, so he did most of his work at the tavern. He had a bald head, a silver beard, and a fitter then typical build for someone his age. "So how'd the job go?" Erik asked as he rested his chin in his hands and leaned on the bar. "Everything went off without a hitch, as usual. The client will be pleased." Emily responded as she drank more ale. Erik jokingly pouted at her lack of details, since it's what he expected and finished cleaning the bar for the night. Emily never shared anything that wasn't absolutely necessary with the group, to prevent two things. One was to prevent getting to close to them, she didn't like having bonds with other people in this line of work since they tended to live short lives. The other reason was to prevent any future backstabbing, Emily knew that no one here would ever betray each other intentionally, but she couldn't risk them slipping up or being coerced into giving information to the wrong people. "Hopefully the client pays soon, we're low on ale." Groog said as he finished his mug. The client was just their code word for the Night Stalkers, who are the leaders of Nikos's criminal underworld. They are the reason that criminals are able to thrive in the royal capital, no one knows their real identities, or where they're located. The Night Stalkers manage crime in the city, when a crime occurs they're there before the guards and typically recruit the criminal and help hide the evidence of their crime. There's a few rare occasions where they have been rumored to actually turn criminals in, and that's only for truly heinous crimes. They deal out jobs to experienced criminals like Emily and her crew and take a cut for themselves, while allowing one time thieves and smaller criminals to get away while demanding a cut or favor in return. It's a complicated system that no one outside of the Night Stalkers fully understands, but the intricacies didn't matter to Emily as long as she got paid and stayed out of the dungeons. "Well maybe we wouldn't be so low if you didn't drink it all up! I swear you drink it like you need it to live!" Pete responded as he drank his own mug. "Who wouldn't need ale to survive dealing with you all day long?" Groog responded as he sat back in his seat, knowing exactly how Pete would respond. "Oh what a comedian you are! We'll see if you're still laughing when I whoop you at poker again! Come on big guy lets go!" Pete huffed as he sat down in front of Groog with a deck of cards. "Humph how about we settle this with a game of strength for once? Are you afraid that I'd break your arm like a twig in an arm wrestling match old man?" Groog said as he watched Pete shuffle the cards. Emily stopped paying attention to the normal bickering of those two as she said goodnight to Erik. She had to go to her room and package the stolen goods she had nabbed tonight so she could send it to the Night Stalkers. She didn't know who had made the contract with them to steal the stuff, and she didn't care, as long as she got rid of it as soon as possible and got paid for it. Her room was in the basement of the tavern, hidden behind the storage crates they kept there. She preferred the seclusion of the basement, and it allowed for her to work on a secret exit for herself in case things went south. Closing the door behind her Emily pulled out the jewelry she had been tasked with stealing. While undoubtfully beautiful, the set was also the strangest she had ever seen. The necklace was a simple gold chain, but the clasp on the back was a small padlock. Once it was adjusted and put around someone's neck it could only be removed with the key. Hanging on the necklace was a giant ruby, she thought it was supposed to look like a heart but it had two holes, one on each side. She couldn't tell if it was intentional or just unfinished. Either way it didn't matter to her, finished or not she would still get paid. The earrings were also gold with strange locking mechanisms on the backs. They were shaped like baby bottles with little heart-shaped rubies in the center of them. "Man nobles sure are weird." Emily mumbled to herself as she shook her head. She wrapped the jewelry in some parchment and placed it in a little box that she then tied shut with some twine. Tomorrow she'd meet the carrier and she'd never see the strange jewelry again.
  3. Hey Y’all! I hope everyone is staying safe out there. I’ve been a long time visitor and even tried my hand at writing under a different name in the past. This time I decided to do things differently. This time, I wrote (and finished) two stories before saying hi. Last time I figured I would just write as I went along and that proved to be way too hard. So here we go again! I have signed up for Patreon, but wanted to see if anyone was interested before going there. So if people are interested, I’ll post the link. For now, let’s see if anyone likes what I have to say. This is the first story called “Covid Times” ————————————— Hey everybody, Sara here! Ok, not really “Sara”...I’ve changed my name for this blog, but I had to call myself something right? Why have I changed my name, well, we will get into that in a bit. Before I do however, there are some other people I would like to introduce...Mom, boyfriend, best fried, etc...and yes I have changed their names as well. The story I’ve got for you is pretty awesome, but also pretty personal. So while I really wanted to put it out there, I did want to protect everyone’s privacy. So, like I said...hey everybody!!! So let me ask, what have y’all been doing with your Covid break? Catch up on some shows? Read any good books? Get some home improvement/organization projects done? Build a garden or maybe test out some cool new recipes in the kitchen? They all sound like fun ideas! It’s been a nice change of pace to hear how people have used this down time. I know it’s been stressful for everyone, my house included. My boyfriend (we live together) was laid off just as it was starting to get bad. This was about 4 months or so ago, middle of March I think. So I get it, but some good can come out of it right? Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had to make some cutbacks. We cook a lot at home, we’ve gotten rid of unnecessary expenses...for example cable. Yep, we are now “cord cutters”! I mean, with Netflix and the internet we are fine. We hung on to cable because Andy (my amazing boyfriend) is a sports junky, like most guys in their late 20’s. And let’s face it, not much happening in the sports world these days. But after the initial “man that sucks” moment, is cooking at home together such a bad thing? I will say, we are lucky in the sense that we do have the benefit of my job still. Being a writer isn’t keeping us rich, but I did sign my book deal just before this all went down so my advance has kept us whole for a while. And, bright side, I’ve been able to get a lot of writing done, so yeah for that! Alright, let’s get back to why we are here...why I changed my name...and tell you a bit about what “Andy” and I have been doing these past couple months. And no, I won’t put “air quotes” around our names from now on, I’ll just stick with Andy & Sara. Ok, ok...what have I been doing with my break? Well, I’ve been able to get a lot of writing done as I mentioned. We have been able to spend more time with my parents than we usually do, which has been nice. My best friend and Andy have gotten closer, which is great for all three of us, but me especially because I love having her around. Oh, and I put Andy back in diapers. So yeah, pretty full schedule as of late. Want to know more???
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