Fairy Story Comp.

[Uncle_Ed]

seababy has suggested that we hold our own "write a BDSM Fairy story " competition. An idea, I am proud to say, she had after reading my piece of stupidity "Dom thumb" that it to be found in this section.

As I suppose, sponsor of the comp I guess it falls to me to be judge. I won't enter of course but I shall declare an outright winner.

RULES.

1)I am totally unbiased but will be disqualifying Clout for something, once I can be arsed to think of it.

2)I really like Jack Daniels so if you want to be in with a chance I am open to bribery.

3)Any of you who writes a better story than mine is subject to premature ejection.

4)No poofters!

5)Stories must fit into a post-not be too long.

6)seababy will be declared winner.

7)Female sub entrants will get extra points for describing the school uniform they wear while writing.

8)There will be no prize except the envy and spite of all fellow entrants who will probably never chat or write to you again. So that's worth working for.

9)There is no rule 9.

10)Posting groupies shall be wrapped in brown paper and string and sent to Effingham-2nd class.

So fellow Doms subs Perves Kinkyones males females unreg's trolls and unclassifieds-get yourselves a-writing!

Post your entries here.

[seababy]

I think that sounds fair.

[Uncle_Ed]

I wonder why?

[jennyfer]

Hmmm well I'm ready, but I don't wanna go first....

[Uncle_Ed]

You won't cause I did with Dom thumb!

[jennyfer]

where is it?

Editted to say:never mind, I found it

[jennyfer]

Just for Uncle Ed (ps, It's a short redpleated skirt, a white shirt, red tie, white stockings. and a prefect badge)

Frankly, this whole thing has just gotten way out of hand. Talk about being misunderstood. They say that kinkiness is getting more accepted in mainstream society. Of course what they really mean, is that lingerie shops have started selling furry handcuffs, and that twenty something women buy them and think they’re ever so hardcore and dirty. Lame. Everyone loves the pink fuzzy plastic restraints, but lets not kid ourselves it’s a full on dungeon scene. Anyway, this is beside the point. Thing is, as much as people like to flatter themselves that they’re super open minded and sexually experienced, mention that you’re in a 24-7 non-sexual service based relationship, and they just can’t comprehend. I mean, why on earth would you want to do someone else’s housework for them? What’s the point of submitting to someone if you’re not gonna be getting a bit of the dirty stuff, if you catch my drift?
So of course, people assume that I’m being used here. It’s hard to understand non-kinky kink I guess. Well, between me and you, I do quite like a bit of spanking and some good old fashioned shagging every now again, but for the most part I was pretty happy with the way things were. There are tons of men and women who would kill to get to serve 3 women at once. I’m a sub at heart and I get kicks from just fussing over them. Besides, the arrangement meant I didn’t need to have a job, and that was a nice house I was living in. The attic rooms have the best view you know. What with my day off twice a month and some awfully nice clothes in the bargain, you can’t deny that there were some definite perks.
But anyway, I had this friend called Steve. Steve is about as straight as a circle, and pretty much the most flamboyant homosexual I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Now every girl needs a gay best friend, and Steve was my self-proclaimed “fairy” godmother. And Steve was a big believer that I couldn’t possibly be having fun in this relationship. He was always trying to rescue me. As it happened, our local Prince had just returned to the kingdom from an extended period of absence. Rumour has it he got in some legal difficulties after the Snow White incident and had to take some time away from home. Turned out she was greatly underage, but that’s what you get for taking home the corpses of young girls you find on the hillsides. Sure the dwarves could’ve told him, but how did they know he was gonna do that with her, and with burial prices through the roof I can’t blame them for letting him take her. So when his “affections” happened to dislodge the poisoned apple in her throat and she wakes up screaming, all hell breaks loose. Anyway, I digress.
So the Prince comes home and they throw this huge ball in his honour. Apparently he wants to meet the ‘eligible maidens’ and then the next morning he’ll declare which one he wants as his bride. I resent this treating women like bits of meat (and yet it makes me slightly excited, weird). I also don’t consider myself eligible, with the aforementioned arrangements but they haven’t passed the gay marriage laws yet, and even if they had, this kingdom is very anti-polygamy, so anyway you look at it the law sees me as a single woman.
I expressed my distaste to Steve on the way to the ball, and he supported me throughout the evening exactly as a best friend should. By getting me well and truly pissed. So I’m on my fourth glass of champagne and well into the giddy giggly unbalanced stage of drunkenness when Steve reveals his secret. Turns out the ball isn’t the only party going down tonight. He holds out this exclusive invite to a ‘play party’ in the palace dungeons after the ball. I don’t know how he managed to get hold of them but well, he does get around a bit, you know? It was pretty clearly an attempt to ‘rescue me’ again by reminding me of the joys of sex but I was fairly easy to persuade into going considering my state (and I’d always been a bit curious as to what goes on at one of these) so we slip off to dress in some more suitable attire.
I would have gone for the little black dress, but my fairy godmother said there wont be many chances to get dirty with royalty, and so we should rise to the occasion (if it were still possible for him to rise to anything given the amount of alcohol he had consumed). He picks out this tiny leather bra and some tight leather pants I had to be sewn into, lends me a pair of shiny black stilettos (I didn’t ask…) and we’re good to go.
I check myself in the mirror in the hallway on the way down to the party, and I had to admit I was smoking hot. Steve is out of sight the moment we get inside and instead I find myself being eyed up by an extremely good-looking stranger in the corner of the room. Well one thing led to another and I ended up giving him a lap dance. Yeh I know, inappropriate, I guess there’s a reason they tell you not to drink and kink. Eventually I find Steve hours later and drag his whoring ass home before we both get turned into pumpkins. Next morning I wake up with the hangover from hell and there on the doorstep is the morning paper with the announcement of the Prince’s bride-to-be. You guessed it. My handsome stranger just happened to be the big guy himself and clearly my hot moves had won him over. Bugger. Thing is, he didn’t know who I was. All he had was my little lacy thong. To this day I don’t know how I managed to get it off while I was still wearing the pants. Of course most every girl in the kingdom claimed it was hers and the royal advisors were talking of DNA testing. I was quite happy to pretend it didn’t happen and I certainly didn’t make a claim, but bigmouth Steve sure as hell did, and ran down to the palace with my photograph. The Prince recognised it right away.
Well rules are rules and the law had been passed that compelled me to marry the Prince. I didn’t dread it as much as I thought I would, after all, he was very cute and it had been a long time since I got laid. The dungeon party was proof he was into the lifestyle and he seemed like a nice guy. He even didn’t mind when I insisted Steve would be our maid of honour (he looked damn good in that dress, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d worn a pearl necklace). So all things considered I overlooked his reputation and did as I was told.
And so this is where I am now. I go back to the palace and into his room and bloody hell! I’ve never seen so many toys. Whips, chains, floggers, benches, restraints and wow that four-poster bed with the black silk sheets! So I’m thinking to myself ‘hey maybe this isn’t gonna be so bad after all’. I walk around the place running my fingers over the solid gold shackles (he is the future king after all) with my mind racing with all the possibilities. My heart is pounding wondering how long it’ll be before he’s tying me down and taking me. Then I turn around and he’s kneeling behind me, butt naked except for a leather collar. He’s only a bloody sub isn’t he?! Typical. Turn’s out he’d mistaken my outfit and my little performance as a display of dominance and picked out the woman he thought would whip him into shape.
So much for happily ever after. So we consummate the marriage but it’s brief and disappointing to say the least. And he keeps calling me Mistress and trying to lick my feet, and frankly that’s very off putting when I’ve always considered myself a slave. He also has a very small penis. No really. Very very small.
I’m all for compromise, but nowadays we spend more time arguing about who’s gonna hold the whip tonight than we do about ruling the country. And he always wins of course, pointing out that he is going to be King, and as such I have no choice but to do as he says- talk about topping from the bottom!

sorry it's so long Uncle Ed!

[Uncle_Ed]

jennyfer. This may be in the wrong place-twice, but

BLOODY HELL ITS GOOD!!!!!!!!!!

I'm really terribly sorry but you're disqualified immediately under the rule which states that anyone better than me gets chucked out.

(Like the outfit by the way-was it Steve's?)

Seriously for a moment-all of you that read this-PLEASE comment.
jennyfer tells me its her first attempt because she doesn't believe she can write well. I think she is yanking my chain as this is hilarious. I hope we see more, jenn!

[jennyfer]

Thanks Ed, you don't half know how to flatter a girl

[suchaminx]

Well done Jennyfer you made me smile, thank you

[jennyfer]

ok done it twice though. damn i'm clumsy

[seababy]

brilliant..I laughed so hard. You have to write more jennyfer.

[fantassy]

great job, jennyfer!

[Uncle_Ed]

OK-we have great start. C'mon the rest of you! Don't be shy-this is for fun-we all win when we laugh together.

[Qmoq]

LOVELY story, Jennyfer! I'll join in with a story in a day or two, I've got a thought for one, but it's a bit weird. If nothing comes from it, I'll come back and tell you what it was about. Yum.

Good thread, Ed. You used your head, Ed, as someone said, Ed

Q

[Uncle_Ed]

[QUOTE=Qmoq I've got a thought for one, but it's a bit weird.
Q[/QUOTE]

There's a surprise.lol

[Qmoq]

Here goes. It's not really fairy story per se... but it's certainly not a normal slam-bang story. Here's part 1, I've not started on part 2 yet.

Q

I am a dog - Part I

by the Qmoq (c) 2006, like anyone would want to copy it

I’m a dog, I must be a dog. I know I think like a human, but I crawl to the mirror on the wardrobe, and saw the face of a dog. I turn to the side, and see the sleek body of a border collie. But here’s the thing, I’m sure I was a woman. I have memories of being a woman, that bed over there, I would bet my Winalot that I used to sleep on that mattress, under that duvet, and with someone, with a human man, I think. Did I dream it?

Oh my god, what was that? My… my cunt just shivered. I guess I must be a bitch, mustn’t I? And I think I’m in season. Oh my lord. God, it wriggled again, what is wrong with me today? Can’t I control myself? Am I in season?

“Annie?” shouted a voice. It’s him! My owner! Now him I do remember. I turn on my feet, and scramble down the stairs. Oh golly, I hope he has some food for me, it feels like three days since I’ve eaten. I scamper into the kitchen, and see him. Oh my, he looks gorgeous. Six feet tall if he’s an inch, and he’s opening a can of juicy dog food for me with a warm smile on his face. My pussy shivers again, a little more this time, and I realise that it’s him I want to fuck, not another dog.

He upends the can into my bowl, and grabs the back of my collar to hold me back when I lean in to eat it. I slobber lustily onto the tiles as he sprinkles some white powder onto the top of the food, and then the phone rings. I whimper quietly as he drags me over to the wall where the phone hung. He picks it up, and I hear every syllable, but I just can’t understand what I am hearing. “Yeah god, thanks for that, she really thinks she’s a dog, it’s incredible!” He paused. I jumped up at him, he swats my face away with a push. “Naked, yes! [another pause] I don’t know, another day or two, no more. I want my Annabell back, you know? I do love the bones of her, after all.” He paused again, and looked down at me longingly. My tail wagged at my name – the only word I understood. Then he spoke into the phone one last time. “I know. I am a soppy bastard, aren’t I?”

He hangs up, and lets go of my collar. Remembering the food, I scamper forwards and dive my face into the bowl, taking a large mouthful of meaty dogfood chunks in my mouth. I chew and realise how delicious it is, but the white powder has a strange taste that I don’t like much. I sneeze, and hear a laugh, followed by footsteps. I feel the brush of his slacks against my side as I take another bite of dinner.

He rubs the top of my head, and I smile as I continue to eat, then his hands stroke my back, and it almost feels as though I don’t have any fur at all on there, it’s hard to describe. And then… then his hand tickles my side, and moves under me, to rub my nipples. He just runs his fingers back and forth over them, a soft touch but quite deliberate, and I think my reaction pleases him, because he laughs out loud. I wag my tail a little more and arch my back to brush harder against him.

He stops the rubbing, and even before he stands up, I have rolled over onto my back, legs apart, looking at him plaintively, desperate for another tickle. He stares at me for a few moments, looking me up and down with a great deal of contemplation, a hand deep in each of his pockets. I shrug, look down, and lean forwards to try to lick myself. I can! I can, and it pleases me no end when I realise that if I turn to my side, my arm shoves my breast up closer to my mouth and I can lick the nipple that he had been scratching. I continue to lick it, and I can see his hands go deeper into his pockets. At that point, my cunt took another spasm, my nipples were hard as stale dogbiscuits. I was definitely in season. I wanted to fuck something.

End of part I

[Uncle_Ed]

Qmoq.

A good friend of mine is convinced he's a Labrador-so I got him to comment on your... er... story.

He has writen a lengthy thesis on your mental state.

Do you want to show it to your doctor?

Tell him its the results of your Lab report.

[cariad]

Years ago Dr Edmundo Master was captured by the evil AC and forced to watch over a room full of nymphs and trolls at play, he under took his duties diligently, befriending each of them with his gentle mocking until he became universally loved and affectionately known as ‘Uncle Sloth’.

However Edmundo Master had a secret. When AC and the operators were all asleep he would he would silently creep from the room, leaving the nymphs at play and through a door known only to him, he would enter the room called ‘the school room’. Here he would amuse himself by sitting at the elevated teacher’s desk, looking out at the rows of empty pupils’ desks, and writing articles for a publication called ‘Forum’.

Once upon a time when Edmundo had had a particular tiring day in the chat room, and was reluctant to return to jumping scrolls and unregistered users he wandered around the school room taking in the scents from his long distant childhood and lovingly fingering the artifacts. Never before had he never noticed that the birch rods were sitting in fresh water. One particular rod caught his eye, it was so smooth and the colour was so rich that he had to take if from the pot. An experiment swish showed him its perfect balance. From the pocket of his tweed jacket he took out a clean handkerchief and rubbed the last drops of water from the rod.

He did not notice the subtle changes in the classroom as he rubbed, the way the dust was gone, the signs of recent use, or even the appearance of the punishment book on his desk. But what he did notice was a set of running footsteps echoing in the corridor, with the cry of “I’m late, I’m late for granting the Master’s wishes”.

Neither could he fail to notice the door fly open and the girl run in and skid to a stop before him. Flustered she smoothed her skirt down, and stammered out an apology for her tardiness.

Ed Master looked slowly over the school girl standing before him. Her uniform just tight enough and just short enough to emphasize her femininity, the crossed tawse and cane emblazoned on her blazer declaring her to be a pupil of Slothlands Academy. Her hands went behind her back, and her head bowed as he left her standing there, and with the rod still in his hand he returned his desk.

“Name?”

“Jeanie Birch, Sir”

Ed Master flicked through the punishment book on his desk and found hers was the only name mentioned in it. Looking up at her again he demanded an explanation for her tardiness and slovenly dress; why her tie was not falling quite straight and one of her socks was half fallen down.

He motioned her to the pupil’s desk with the finger blocks hooked over two of the corners and told her to assume her usual position. Her fingers slipped into place, she knew what to do. Her body slanting downward over the desk, her arse already forming an inviting target. It became an even more inviting target as Ed Master came down to her, and lifted her skirt up revealing her white knickers. It became a completely irresistible target as he pulled her knickers down enough to leave the smooth rounds of her yet unmarked pale arse exposed.

Ed whispered into Jeanie’s ear, “a baker’s dozen”, stood back, and the rod swished through the air for the first time. As Jeanie’s yelp caressed his ears he his eyes drank in the sight of the single red line.

A second swish and her sobs formed a continuo to be marked out by the swish of the rod through the air, the thud of the impact and her cry of pain. Each placement of the rod precise, Ed a Master of this craft, the welts forming an exquisite pattern on his favourite type of canvas.

The twelfth strike and Ed sighed as he savoured and lifted the rod for the final time. Standing just a little bit further back, he cut into her tender flesh. As her scream faded he leant forwards and whispered into her ear once more ‘now go and stand in the corner, as I consider which three wishes I would like you to grant me…….’

[Uncle_Ed]

Why didn't I think of this?

Rule 11) All entries must be similar to cariad's. (tee hee hee!)

cariad-I'm flattered. Thank you!

[Qmoq]

Cari, that was damned good! I love a nice, descriptive story, and I'll envy you forever because you came up with the line "...his eyes drank in the sight of the single red line". Oh my lord!

I'd love to be a fly onthe wall of Sloth's Acadamy. You bet your ass.

Q

[Qmoq]

By the way, here's part II (of II) of the "I Am A Dog" story.

Part II



I follow him as he walks to the front room, padding my paws gently on the carpet. I look enviously at the space next to him on the sofa, another annoying vague memory coming to my head, but I know my place. I snuggle next to him, on the floor. He runs his fingers through the hair on my head, and my chest heaves lustily.

“Annie?” he says. I look up.

“Sit.”

I sit squarely on the floor, legs apart, front paws flat and face down.

“Beg.”

I move my hands to my chest, and my bottom lifts off the floor as I sit on my haunches.

“Good girl,” he says, and ruffles my head again. My cunt is now squirming, I want to fuck him so badly, but deep down I know he never would. He walks back to the kitchen, talking all the time. “Wargle wraggle Annie wrag grappa targle carigle,” is what I hear. I cannot understand a word he says, but I follow, and he has the confidence of someone who knows that I would always trundle along behind him. “Wingle bargle, Annie, bargle sexy wingle targle bargle.”

It is three seconds before I realise that I understood a different word, other than my name. I froze. I wag my tail uncertainly at him. “Slothicle barticle out of milk. Wingadle fingle some later on when I go down to the shops. I need to bargle you margle dog food anyway, don’t I, Annie?”

I am confused, but I say nothing. I turn to the water and begin to drink again. It seems to clear my head more fully. He finishes making a cup of tea for himself, and wanders back into the living room. I pause for a moment, and look in the glass door of the oven, and blink at the reflection I see.

I do not see a collie. I see a twenty-five year-old woman, naked on all fours, water dripping out of her open mouth. Her – sorry, my hair is tied up in two bunches on the side of my head, to resemble ears, I think. But I am naked.

My cunt shudders, and I look down for the first time. There is a device strapped to my pussy, a vibrator. I recognise this, and remember him putting it on me – it was a remote controlled vibrator that he had customised, and linked to his computer. Any time he was away and I was at home, he could send an instruction for the computer to give me a little pleasure. He could also put it on “random”, which would give me random bouts of vibration throughout the day. If you didn’t know it existed, you would think that you had no control over your cunt. Much like how a dog might feel if it was in heat. I flush at our ingenuity.

The shiver in my pussy makes me more aware of my body, and there is no sign of a struggle. I take another taste of water, and my head clears a little more. I remember that I definitely volunteered for this. I was the one that got him the powder, the powder that I had sneezed. That was it! I must have only taken a half-dose, and it had worn off already.

I cannot remember how much I agreed to do, but that lust that I felt for him, it was deep within me all along. I wanted to fuck him all the time, whether I thought I was woman, bitch or avocado.

I am concentrating so much on the questions and the memories, I barely hear him leave for the shops.

The next question that sprang to my mind was – what to do now? I chose to continue, not for him, but for me. I knew that I’d chosen to do this, so I must have thought that it would be fun, and I was right, my cunt was wet through. Of course, I was no longer his dog, I was just pretending to be his dog. There was just one problem. I didn’t know precisely how a dog was supposed to act, even though I’d been doing it for a few hours.

I bite my lip and make a decision. I’m going to be a bad dog. I’m going to test his ability as an animal handler. I’m going to do the (second) worst thing a dog can do when her owner is away.

I find a suitable spot in the kitchen, the place where he is most likely to notice it, and then I squat an inch or two from the surface, and piss. There is a satisfying sound of running water, some splashes down my legs, but I have to hold myself from wiping it off. Looking at my work, I smile and crawl slowly and sheepishly away, to curl up on the sofa.

He comes through the door, and I scamper towards him, jumping up at him.

“Annie, get down,” he smiles, and I jump even higher up his body, deliberately brushing a hand across his groin. He smiles, pushes me away, then pulls out a plastic bone from the bag he is holding.

“You want this, huh? You want the bone, Annie?”

I want the bone. He throws it underneath the couch, and I rush towards it, putting my head as far underneath it as I can. I can’t quite reach it, but I can hear him shout “Oh for fuck’s sake!” as he slips on the piss on the kitchen floor.

“Annie,” he shouts, and I pad towards him. “ANNIE.”

I sit on the floor, unabashed. I look up at him, smiling.

“Bad dog!” he snarls, and grabs the back of my head. He slowly but forcefully pushes my face forwards, and I realise what he is going to do. He is going to teach me a lesson. “Lick it up, Annie.”

I wag my tail – or rather, wiggle my butt, pretending to be aroused at the sound of my name. But I don’t have to pretend, it’s true. I am. Leaning down so closely, I can feel my nipples on the damp floor, and they scrape nicely upon it. I put out a tongue and begin to lap up my piss.

“Good girl, Annie,” he says, and I’m relieved that he mentions my name, because it means I can smile and wag my tail again. I still want to fuck him so much, and I know that waving my pussy at him will increase the chances.

It works. I can hear him debating with himself, he is sure I cannot understand a word he says. His hand is still on the back of my neck, and I still lick the floor clean, but he says “I just have to fuck you. I don’t care. I’m going to do it.”

I find it almost impossible not to smile, but manage it, just. I hear him unzip himself, and as soon as he lets go of my neck, I twirl and spin with the most gormless expression I can produce. I have to blink several times to hold back the tears of excitement that he is going to fuck me, right here, right now.

It happens quickly. I feel two hands on my side, and I wriggle a little as I hear him undo the straps of the vibe. I whimper, which clearly excites him. Normally he is a sensual, considerate lover, generous with the foreplay, but today he is more of an animal than me. He slides his cock into me, halfway in on the first thrust, and doesn’t even withdraw before slamming himself in the rest of the way.

I grunt, and wriggle, and whine, but inside I am churning and more aroused than I have ever been in my life. He continues to fuck me, with a steady rhythm, pushing me forwards on the slippy kitchen floor until my head becomes wedged into a corner where two cupboards meet. He continues to fuck me harder, but I can now push back, and I do. I wiggle my bottom at him twisting my cunt to let him fuck me from a different angle.

And then I hear a strange little sound. Before I work out what it was, I feel it. He had spat on my asshole, and he spits again, hitting the spot with amazing accuracy. Then, then I am amazed – he slides a fingertip inside my ass, with his cock still deep inside my cunt. I realise that he is going to ream me. He had never tried before, though I think I had said that I wouldn’t mind, if I was in the mood. I had never been in the mood before. Now, unless I wanted to reveal my corrected state of mind, I would have no choice.

Fortunately, I was in the mood. He could have done anything to me at that point, and I would have said yes. But the naughty dog that was inside me comes out, and I curve my back forwards, just enough to get my cunt free from his cock, and then I’m away. I scamper like a frightened animal, into the living room, and curl up on the sofa.

“Annie! You bad dog. Come here!”

I ease myself off the couch, and I feel another tremor shake my pussy. It is two full seconds before I realise that there is no vibrator there any more. I pad slowly towards him, my eyes flash at his firm cock, and I want him in me so badly.

He leans down to pat my head, then falls further down upon me, forcing me face down into the carpet. He won’t be denied a second time. I feel the head of his cock at my asshole, and I grunt, wondering what it will feel like. He grabs my hair to make sure I do not run, and then wriggles a little forcing an inch, then a second inch inside me. There are tears in my eyes, but I love every moment. I am his dog.



The End…

[Uncle_Ed]

[QUOTE=Qmoq


I wanted to fuck him all the time, whether I thought I was woman, bitch or avocado.

[/QUOTE]

Q;

That has to be one of the best lines in any BDSM story!

(Still think you should see the vet!)

[Qmoq]

Ach, that reminds me of the old joke that I was going to put into the story, but forgot.

Annie: I wondered whether I was going mad. I wondered if I needed a psychiatrist, and then I realised that I wouldn't be allowed on the couch.

Q

[cariad]

Woof Woof. A great story Q and thank you!

Now what am; I a bitch in heat who could be a woman, or a woman in heat who could be a bitch. Or am I both, or am I neither.

Heeeeeeeeelp me Uncle Q

[Uncle_Ed]

Reminds me in turn of two psychiatrists who meet in the street. One says to the other; "How am I?"

[Qmoq]

Hi Cari. I've given your tragic note a lot of thought, and when I say thought, I mean I went to pee and thought of you while washing my hands.

Umm. Ah. I think you're a woman bitch in heat, particularly when you're being nasty to our friend Uncle Ed. Hehe. But you're a cutie pie and an angel, if that's any consolation.

Q xx

[cariad]

Hi Cari. I've given your tragic note a lot of thought, and when I say thought, I mean I went to pee and thought of you while washing my hands.

Umm. Ah. I think you're a woman bitch in heat, particularly when you're being nasty to our friend Uncle Ed. Hehe. But you're a cutie pie and an angel, if that's any consolation.

Q xx

Well Q, I guess I should be grateful that you thought of me as you were washing your hands rather than as you were peeing.

But I do thank you for sorting out my identity crisis, and if I can ever return the favour....

cariad
kisses and woof

[jennyfer]

Oooh ooh I'll sign up for the academy! Sounds awesome!
Actually my high school was a lot like that.... you didn't go to school with me did you Cariad?
Q that was great but I expectednothing less after reading your famous story.

[cariad]

Oooh ooh I'll sign up for the academy! Sounds awesome!
Actually my high school was a lot like that.... you didn't go to school with me did you Cariad?
Q that was great but I expectednothing less after reading your famous story.

One row in from the right, third desk back. Where were you?