Andlat's Story Spot

Ash sat on his bed, unable to get his nervousness under control. His dad had been dating this woman for the last six months and he had never met her. That is, until tonight. She was coming over to meet him and, as his dad put it, 'hang out' while he and this woman's son Dylan went to a movie. He knew she was his babysitter for the night, even though he had not had one for years. Dad had said it was something about swapping kids so each of them could get to know their future stepson. To Ash, that was the worst part. He did not even know her name, but the wedding was set for a month from now. "Ash, they'll be here in just a minute." His dad called, knocking on the door. "Kay, dad." Ash called back, getting off of his bed and straightening out his shorts. He had refused to dress up for this, not that his dad had asked him to. He shook his head as he looked at himself in the mirror, trying to make his hair as messy as it could be. If there was one thing

Jake had always loved Christmas, but it felt a little silly for his mom to continue to insist the stockings were from Santa when he was a college freshman and his brother was a sophomore in high school. All the same, he smiled appreciatively as she handed him his red knit stocking. “And one for our guest. Santa never misses a beat.” His mom said, handing a stocking to Jake’s roommate Randy with a wink. “Oh, wow! Thanks!” He said with a chuckle. "This is great!" “Dig in, boys.” Jake did not need to be told twice, his hand plunging into the stocking. Oh, great. She put boxers right on top, he thought. He pulled them out and his face turned red as realization dawned. Boxers, they were not. It was a pair of white briefs! He quickly stowed them out of Randy’s sight and dug in. Ugh, another one. And another. Another! Another? Jake’s face grew more and more red as he pulled a dozen pairs of white briefs out of his stocking.  Was there anything else in there? How did his mom or &quo

"Whew! Cleared that level! Trognis is a tough boss, isn't he?" Stacy said with a grin, looking down at Colton, who sat on the floor. He groaned irritably. He had no idea about Trognis beyond watching his sister play it. It had been months since he had been allowed to play any video game. He could not even remember just what the bet had been, but he remembered what had happened when he lost it: he could not play any video game other than Barbie Video Game Hero until he beat it 100%, something he agreed to before learning it was impossible to get 100%. Worse, his big sister's idea of helping motivate him had been to methodically replace everything in his life with the Barbie equivalent. Barbie panties and nighties, a Barbie bedspread, the list went on and on. Somehow, she had even convinced their parents to "allow" him to grow his hair out, so he even looked like a Barbie as he sat on the floor in his Barbie t-shirt and skirt, his fingers with their sparkly p

“I remember what the deal was!” Colton said irritably. “Seems like you don’t, little bro.” His sister said with a smirk. “So, let me remind you. Whoever lost the game would have to play Barbie Video Game Hero, exclusively, until they got 100%.” “But it’s impossible to beat the game 100%!” He protested. His sister frowned. “That sounds like quitter talk, Colton.” She said. “And I’m trying to help you.” “Some help.” He muttered. “Here, grab your Barbie Video Game Hero doll again and you can watch the movie to see if that helps.” “It won’t! None of this stuff does!” “You say that” she said with a wicked grin. “But you certainly got more serious about beating the game once I replaced your boxer briefs with Barbie panties. Such a shame they fit you too well to get rid of them.” “That was never part of the deal!” He protested. “No, but I’m a great sister for trying to help. Tell you what, get 100% this week or we’ll go buy those Barbie bedsheets I saw at the store. They’ll go so we

"Hello, hello!" Finn heard his aunt Linda say as soon as he opened his car door. He smiled and waved to her. She was so friendly, "Oh! I didn't know you were coming, Finn!" "Steve got beeped." Finn's mom said. "And you know how worried I get, leaving him alone when I'm out of town." "Mom." "I figured he can play in the garden while we paint." "Sure." Linda smiled. "It's right around the back, but I'm sure you know that." "It's been a few years!" Mom smiled and rubbed Finn's hair, freshly cut just that morning before they had set out for Linda's. "You were still in diapers last time we came here in the summer." "And I really can't do things inside?" "I don't want you underfoot. Plus, fresh air." "I know." "We'll call you for lunch!" Linda said cheerily as he shuffled off to the white picket gate that led

Thoughts of the upcoming Little League season occupied Peter's thoughts as he wandered the halls of Paradigm Robotics, getting further and further from the lobby. He always signed up for Little League, but his team was never any good. All the same, he knew his parents approved of him getting fresh air and exercise and all that. Plus he made friends for gaming, didn't he? "Closed door after closed door." He muttered. What was the point of going with his mom to a robotics company if he just had to sit in the lobby while she interviewed the CEO for the news? He had imagined it would be exciting, but this place looked as boring as his dad's accounting firm. He sighed and turned to go back to the lobby, but noticed that one door was slightly ajar. "Room 105. How thrilling." He muttered, but he figured a peek inside might be more fun. He poked his head in. No one was there. Almost out of instinct, he flipped a light switch and saw that the room was mostly emp

Me and my big mouth. Really, the only person I can blame is myself and said big mouth. After all, it was me who said ‘what’s so bad about a few hours in a dress?’ when my sister Izzy was complaining about mom signing her up for a mother-daughter tea party. Calling Izzy a tomboy is an understatement. Growing up, I sometimes thought I had a brother instead of a sister with how often she’d borrow my clothes over whatever pink, princessy things were in her dresser. She all but threw a fit when she had to wear a dress to Thanksgiving the year we were five and I got to wear a sweater and ‘nice pants’. The following year, she dressed much more similarly to me, but it was like a switch flipped in mom. Come hell or high water, she was determined to turn her daughter into a girl. So, three or so times a year, mom would find a suitably feminine activity and force Izzy along. It never took. This mother-daughter garden party was the latest battle in the war and so far, it seemed like no one was