I saw the story being about a guy having a sex change operation - because he was a sex offender - in some future society where they turn men into women for committing such an offence.

So on post number twenty when he opens his pyjama top .. My God! there they are .. his breasts!

A )

I found myself wishing that it hadn't degenerated into blood and gore. I think that's unnecessary - there was a wonderful air of mysterious menace at the beginning, but the moment the violence becomes explicit that's lost and the story becomes lurid and like something out of horror comic. I think if I was going to do this in a serious way with the idea of producing a viable story I'd want to work with writers I could trust to keep the story going in a way I approved of. But as someone said, this was only a bit of fun so maybe I'm being overly sensitive.

Yes Nell I agree ... but it could be easily edited into something more worthwhile by removing those bits .. without adding anything I mean - just deleting the bits that are OTT and lose those. Shall I have an quite attempt?

<Added>

I agree that it shouldn't go OTT as it immediately loses credibilty .. not that you're over sensitive :o) A

Here is a very quick attempt with no thought ... just a few omissions of OTT stuff


Michael walked into the room he had only ever heard of from the mouths of drunken fools who lives had been wreaked by their involvement with the likes of Mr Shanks. His mouth felt dry and his hands dripped wet, he was going against all that society labelled him. The room was lit by a single candle balanced precariously on the edge of the mantelpiece opposite him. It bowed and flickered as he entered, casting ugly shadows across the white-washed walls. A tiny man with silver-blue hair and a narrow grey face looked up from the table.

"You came, then," he hissed. Michael felt the bile rise to his throat. His mouth gaped and shut like a goldfish in its bowl, but no sound emerged. Mesmerized he stared at the dwarfish figure at the table. He watched as the thin lips parted in a chuckle.'

Yes, you came. They all come to me in the end.'The dark shark eyes of the little man bored into Michael's soul rendering him unable to rationalise the situation.. He blinked in an effort to restore normality to his thoughts but he felt his thoughts were no longer his own…The room stank of drink and smoke, though behind these familiar smells, was another odour, strange and sinister, an odour Michael had once known but pushed to the outer edges of his consciousness; but which was now teasing, testing his memory.

'You are aware of the dangers? Other than increasing your pain threshold you may experience disorientation, fixated vision, pulsating auditory and visual hallucinations, much as if waves were travelling up your body or as if you were twisting or spinning. Disorientation increases rapidly and the pulsing sounds increase. I strongly advise you not to open your eyes during the procedure.'Michael briefly woke from his divulging living dream fed to him by the man operating the machine besides him, accompanied by a nurse.“

'Doctor this exercise is punishment not voluntary, I don’t want to see, hear or FEEL A THING!”

“Well that’s enough of that Mr Green…nurse sedate him please…see you in ten minutes Michael” said the doctor with a wry grin that was followed through with a glare of deserving deliverance.

(Two days later)

Michael had been locked for what seemed an eternity; he could not escape, not even if he had wanted to.Michael knew the second he woke he would run and then never stopMichael was not aware of his offence, of any need for punishment. He knew he had walked into the room apparently without being compelled or forced in any way. Yet what was happening to him seemed inevitable, as it had to many before him.

He had learnt the wisdom of never stopping from his strange childhood.And the sound of his own heart beating was an ever present accompaniment to the familiar mounting panic..His only hope was to hit the ground running. He knew how to wake himself up to the unreal world, and he had to prepare his mind, and his legs, to cope with it. He started to run, and only then did he pinch himself.... and realise it was that ghastly dream back again, he called for his Ma.

"Oh young Michael" laughed his mother, "are the bad dreams troubling you again?"The young teenager looked upon his mother with sheltered eyes as the early morning sun poured through the window goldenly. His heart brushed away the coating of terror as it basked in the warmth delivered by his mothers beautiful smile. As a single tear rolled down the youngsters face his mother wiped it away with her wonderful gentle touch and hugged him with every last strength in her arms. He was so happy.

But when he took off his pyjama top.. there they were! My God!

If one is looking for a framework - authors should try to be internally consistency.. eg if he hears things from drunks.. then perhaps its a little perverse he's a young teenager? But perhaps I'm missing the point?

<Added>

to be ... internally consistent I meant

To me Michael was an adult, I made him a young teenager in the section when he embraces his mother to create a false sense of security; it was in fact just another nightmare world he had entered.

However, I liked what Bluesky3d attempted and I agree it could have been better as a whole if it had not degenerated into horror, I know I am mainly responsible for that but acting on the basis of what I originally perceived the exercise to be I was just following up from previous sections and seeing how many times the running story could be twisted and turned

I would like to run to one theme however and if we all know an end and work to it we may get something fascinating, we can still add twists and changes but nothing too drastically outside the box of the running hypothesis

Are there any particular storylines you would like to write together for?

We could begin again under the forum title 'Group story two', from the point

I want to start a group story, I'll start it simply and then it can pick up pace if the ball rolls.
-------------------------------------------------------------

Michael walked into the room he had only ever heard of from the mouths of drunken fools who lives had been wreaked by their involvment with the likes of Mr Shanks. His mouth felt dry and his hands dripped wet, he was going against all that society labelled him.