A simple message as equally as important in a physical sense as a metaphysical. Tim choked in sand and coughed, his eyes fluttering open. Laying face ...own, Tim had a close encounter with some very massive, very invasive sand. Close as in "burrowed in sand" not "happy sandbox sand" — thin and gritty, liquid you can't swallow. It filled his nostrils. A thick layer of grim coated his throat. He felt invaded by every single grain.When Tim was sick he would have exactly the same nightmare. He was. Marie was three weeks to her due date, though she looked to be in her tenth month.They danced at the same place as last time. It was as enjoyable, and they closed the place again.It was impossible to have a kiss hotter than the ones Jake had already given her, impossible, at least, while dressed. Jake achieved the impossible. His tongue raped her mouth while he left fingerprints on her skirt. Finally, he tore away from her and headed up the stairs. She took a minute catching her breath and. The hand that was holding the wishbone snapped loudly, and popped,shrinking slightly. Simon's fingers became slimmer, changing from hiscalloused, thick body builder hands to dainty and soft. His nails grewa half inch from his fingertips, perfectly manicured.As the changes finished in his hand, the hot burning sensation dieddown as it continued up his arm. His forearm detached all of his hair,releasing them so they floated gently to the ground. His muscle massshrunk dramatically, his forearm. " The girl on the screen (Stacy could no longer believe it was herself saying and doing those things; she started thinking of her image on the screen as someone else) seemed to be almost panting in lust. "Please fuck me. In need it so bad. Please fuck me." The naked girl ran her hands over her erect nipples. "Please... I want it now..." Come here, bitch!" The figure on the bed, only visible in the corner of the picture, spoke (Stacy knew it was Neil, but her mind refused to put a name to him -.