The Lost Kreme Issue #3: Black and White equals Grey by Kris P. Kreme
When a story falls off the twisted titillation train of Tales from the Kreme, it sometimes gets lost to readers. Those stories are now found and restored, sometimes never before seen.
A mysterious man named Grey moves into a new place, a constant traveler never settling in one place for too long. A writer, Grey needs his peace and quiet, but the two girls downstairs are constantly bickering and bitching and they have no idea just what kind of writer Grey is.
Whatever the black and white differences sweet Stacy and saucy Sasha have, they will find them swirled together in a place fittingly Grey as he solves his annoyances with them by writing them into new lives, into each others’ lives, and out of each others’ clothes.
Get lost once more in a rarely seen original Kreme tale.
Grey has been a writer for a long time, though most people just wouldn’t believe the kind of writer he truly is. Most people would also find it difficult to grasp that just maybe they are living what was once a figment of his active and powerful imagination.
The two girls in the building he moved into one day would have been best served in taking seriously the kind of writer Grey was but their story would serve as justice to bad neighbors everywhere. Stacy and Sasha were both young, likely related just by the slight similarities in their looks, but to Grey none of this was as important as his peace and quiet, something every good writer needs, even the writer who rewrites reality.
Stacy, the busty but sweet wholesome girl next door type, was the tamer fantasy most men had. She was young, sexy, but nothing sinful. Sasha however was the extreme. If men fantasized about busty, she was three times as busty, and if men fantasized about nasty she was three times that. Sasha was the porn version of a girl next door in body and attitude, and apparently Grey discovered the two girls’ attitudes conflicted about as much as their petty disagreements he had to overhear after moving into the building.
Despite each greeting him in their own ways, Stacy with a kind almost natural servitude of cookies, Sasha seeming practically ready to serve her own cookie up with a flirt, Grey had work to do and writers never liked distractions. In the basic sense of things, that’s all these young girls were, distractions and apparently they frequently hated each other for who they were.
Sure, it might have been assumed that if Grey could simply rewrite reality he could rewrite the reality of these two girls arguing so loudly and frustratingly, but that simply isn’t how it works. As anyone who knows anything about such writing would tell you, there are certain rules about rewriting reality, and one of them is you can’t rewrite conflicts or hostilities. Otherwise there’d be no wars, no tragic military conflicts in history.
No, the way to solve Grey’s little problem turned out to be quite entertaining and unfortunately quite permanent for poor Stacy and Sasha. They hated each other for who they were, but they couldn’t very well keep hating if they were each other, if they changed into what they hated most.
Thus began Grey’s simple black and white lesson for nuisance neighbors everywhere, a lesson that he began writing right away and one that would change the two girls most unexpectedly starting with sexy Sasha.
The bad girl for life who loved her huge tits was about to find her always dominate attitude cooling down to a sweet subservient nature, and to her own fear she’d not simply give in to the nerdy goof at work who flirted with her, she’d let that goof spend hours suckling her fat tits down a number of cup sizes.
Sweet Stacy would also find her work day twisted, the beautiful girl working at a tanning salon but finding her thoughts most non-wholesome as she slowly moved from smiling to flirting to all out demanding sex from her male customers.
Just how far will the black and white which divides these two girls be blurred? Only Grey can say and everyone knows that black and white meet in the middle to Grey. One thing is certain, noisy neighbors beware, especially attractive young women. That man who moves into the building and carries with him a special old looking word processor. He might simply be a writer, or he might be a re-writer of reality and yours might be his next novel.
Some tales take the wrong turn down the wrong road, but this tale has been found and cleaned off, yet it remains the dirty dirty tale it is, just one of The Lost Kreme.
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