A Love Story. 2,600 Adult. The time when ALL the girls disappeared. (standard:romance, 2568 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 16 2020	Views/Reads: 1373/994	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
One morning, while Timmy ate breakfast, his mama disappeared. Actually, ALL females in the world blanked out, gone. This story, in his own words, is about how the remaining males coped.

I gotta write this story for class, but don't much want to. It's about
the time all the girls went away. It's a stupid story since everyone 
here already knows it. We all lived through it, anyway. Well, here 
goes. I'm going slow cause I'm trying to write it gooder.... 

I'm thirteen now, but was only seven at the time. Oh, I'm Timmy Trump.
The other people in the story are my Daddy, Peter Trump; Mom, Julie 
Trump; and my big sister, Tammy Trump though she's isn't in it much at 
all. I gotta put her in the story or she's gonna kick my butt or 
something. We're all Trumps. Okay? Guess it's time to start the story, 
again.... 

On that morning, like any other, I'm sitting at the breakfast table
eating hotcakes and bacon. Daddy's sitting across from me and Mom 
frying more hotcakes for us. My sister's still upstairs hogging the 
bathroom. She doesn't know that I put a chair-back under the knob 
outside the door to pen her in. 

Well, I remember Daddy and Mom arguing, like always, going something
like this: 

"Did you see this article in the paper," he asks, "about those damned
queers?" 

"No, honey. I've been too busy to read it." 

"Some nosy window washer took some pictures of a state congressman
jerking off behind his desk. The guy was sneaking around outside on a 
window washing platform and filmed the whole damned thing with a 
cellphone camera. Now it's all over the Internet." 

"That poor guy. I mean the guy that was doing it ... behind the desk, I
mean." She shakes her head. 

"The poor queer, you mean? That must have been funny as hell." 

"That ain't queer, Peter. Queer is when two men do it, you know...." she
says, looking down at me. 

"God made men to screw in one way, and the Bible says so. Anything else
is queer to me. A man doing it to himself is just as queer as with 
another man, you ask me." 

Daddy looks across at me, where I'm trying to not hear at all what
they're talking about. "You better not let me catch you being queer, 
Timmy. If you want your butt stuffed that way, let me tear you a new 
one first." 

"Don't talk to him like that, Peter. He's too young to understand." 

"Too young, hell. When I was his age I was ... never mind." 

Seeing where that was going, Daddy shut up pretty quick. 

Me, since I was involbed ... imbol ... part of the talking, had to ask a
question of my own. 

"Don't girls do that stuff too, the queer stuff?" I ask. "You ever do
it, Mom?" 

Even as young as I am then, I see Mom smile as she turns around and
flips hotcakes. 

"You don't talk like that at the table," Daddy says, throwing his fork
down, bouncing it across the table to rattle on the kitchen floor. 
"That's filthy talk." 

"Well, honey, so is talking about men in front of the boy," Mom says,
bringing a spatula full of hotcakes to Daddy's plate, along with a 
clean fork. 

"The boy has to learn sometime. I hear those schools are full of queers
these days, fornicating in the restrooms and lockers. He's bound to run 
into those bastards." 



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