Anya Shorty

Author’s Note: This story came about after chatting with It was a good start for me to get the creative juices going again.

Nothing naughty in this one. Just a typical conversation with my Muse Anya and myself. (Wait, because she exists in my imagination, that means I’m talking to myself!)
Anyway, onto the story


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I leaned back in my chair, the latest in my nearly one hundred story collection nearing completion; a very content smile on my face.

“It’s not right.” A voice at my elbow informs me.

“What do you mean it’s not right?” I ask exasperated. “You approved the outline for this one!”

“Like I said, it’s not right.” The small figure at my elbow hopped off the arm of the chair to run across my lap and climb up on the desk next to my keyboard.

It still amazed me that she could move or even exist! Of course the rational part of me know she is nothing more than a figment of my imagination, but the dreamer inside me realizes she is the personification of what I write.

Her long hair, which doesn’t stick to one particular color, but changes based upon my/her mood. Her eyes that know me intimately; a figure that most women would kill for, well aside from her belly, which stretches out nearly 6 inches from her eight inch tall frame.

Her outfit varies day to day, its hard to describe, normally she prefers to waltz just outside my field of vision clad in only a thin piece of gauze around her bosom and a short skirt made of the same material.

The slow “click clack” Of my keyboard brought me back from my musings.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing it.”

“Why? I could post it as is and get a million...”

Her glare stopped the rest of my sentence from utterance.

“You’re better than that.”

I sat back, watching her hop from key to key.

“You know I can do that faster.”

She wiggled her cute heart shaped butt at me and jumped to another key.

“Come on Anya, Let me do it, I’ll make you popcorn.”

The mention of popcorn, her favorite food, caused her to spin around on the ‘g’ key, leaving a large line of them to scroll across my screen. “Popcorn?”

“With extra butter”

The smile that spread across her face was worth it. Grabbing her gravid form in one hand, I ran a finger down her back. “And when we get back I’ll fix it.”

Her eyes closed in pure pleasure. “Popcorn and a back rub…I should get mad at you more often.”

I shook my head, standing up to go microwave the popcorn. “The things I do to write a belly story…”

Fin