Soulmates

by Specfiend

1

„Time to go to the nurse’s office. It’s eyetest time.“ It was the moment Marissa had been dreading. For weeks she had thought of nothing else but the impending eye examination that all sixth years were subjected to, and she was completely dreading it. Well, when you’ve had been trouble seeing for months, coupled with a pathological fear of having to wear glasses, it’s understandable that you would be apprehensive about an exam which will expose your secret faults and force you to do the one thing you’re terrified of. How could she get through it? She had one last ditch attempt at thinking of a plan to convince the nurse that she had perfect eyesight. But, short of memorising the chart, or dropping dead (that option was growing more and more appealing by the second) she couldn’t think of a way to pull it off. They were going in alphabetical order and Marissa listened to the girl in front of her, a girl from a different class, recite the letters from the chart. Carefully, she stored them all in her brain, proud of herself for her memory skills.

Not Too Bad

by Doreen F.

You won’t believe what happened to me yesterday. I had an exhausting day at university and was really looking forward to coming home. And I was also mad that I had forgotten to take a book with me that day. Usually I spend the whole journey on the train reading. As it turned out, I could not have been luckier, but I had yet to find out.

It was a hot day and the train was delayed due to construction work in one of the other stations. I had plenty of time to kill and nothing to do, but watch the people around me. Suddenly I noticed a really cute guy, who was talking on the phone and seemed very agitated. He was speaking Spanish, a language I knew very well, so I could overhear parts of the conversation like putas lentillas y puta cuidad, which was more like cursing than anything else. As far as I could make out something was wrong with his contact lenses, but did not know what.

LOVE’S LABOUR’S LOST

— odd pages of another ‘Story from Shakespeare’

by Jules

This book belongs to

Keith Magee

14 Wisteria Walk,

Little Whinging,

Surrey.

Hic liber est meus,

Testis est Deus.

Si quis furetur

Per collum pendetur.

Him that takes what isn’t his’n

When he’s catched will go to pris’n.

Mum asked me today why I sit so close to the television. I told her the truth, I said that’s the way I like to watch it.

Mum’s bothering me again—why do I hold the book so close when I’m reading? I told her the truth again, that’s the way I like to read. Then she asked if I can see the board OK in school. I told the truth, I said yes I can. I didn’t tell her I sometimes see it better if I screw my eyes up, so maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but it was nothing but the truth. I don’t know why she keeps asking these questions.

The cat’s out of the bag, Mum thinks I need glasses. After supper I heard her asking Dad the name of the opticians where his cousin Robin works. He said “It’s Shakespeare’s isn’t it. Why?” She said, “I want to take Keith for an eye test; you know the way he sits right up against the telly and the way he holds a book when he reads, there was an article in my magazine that said those are signs that he’s short-sighted. I think he needs glasses.” Dad said, “But Robin’s a bit, you know.” Mum said, “What a way to talk about your cousin.” Dad said, “A row of army tents isn’t in it.” I don’t know what all that was about but I’m not bothered. I don’t want an eye test; I can see just fine.

The Secret

by Doreen F.

Charlie and Charlotte had been together for some months now. They had met one day in the library of their university. They needed the same book, but there was only one there. So instead of quarrelling they decided to meet in the afternoon and study together using the book. What began as friendship slowly led to more. After some weeks of ‘joint-studying’ Charlie summoned all his courage and asked Charlotte out on a date. She was delighted since she had been fancying Charlie a lot and sometimes concentrating while studying had been nearly impossible.

They went to the movies and to a pub after that. The film had not been that good, but that had not mattered since they had spent most of the time kissing.

The Quick Way

by an unknown author

Billy walked into the house, slammed the door, kicked the table, and threw his coat on the floor in disgust. In the pocket was the prescription from the optometrist, and it was just -0.25 more than his last examination, a whole year ago. He'd worked so hard trying to become more myopic and it just wasn't working. Was he just too damn old?

It was 3 years ago when he first started doing this. He didn't know why at the time and still didn't. Many a time he'd tried unsuccessfully to explain it to himself. Telling others about his little.....hobby....wasn't an option. Most people would think he was deranged to try and make his eyesight worse. There were a few people on the Internet he spoke to, but they all seemed to have much more success than him, and he felt like a failure. "Results vary" was always the disclaimer in this illicit pursuit as in any health-related issue. For Billy, results were pathetic. In three years he had succeeded in creating just over one diopter of myopia. When he'd mentioned this in an e-mail to one of his mentors it was suggested that he began too late, that younger people had the greatest success at induced myopia. Billy was 31.

The Crosseyed Story

Another micro story I have dug up from my archive. This time it is about crossed eyes.

By Anonymous

This story is fictional but based on someone I was acquainted with.

For as long as I could remember, I was fascinated and turned on by crossed eyes. Both in other people and myself. At the age of 10 I discovered how to cross my eyes and did it whenever I was alone. I soon was able to cross them and hold for an hour at a time, usually with them turned all the way in.

When I was 12 I was prescribed my first glasses for nearsightedness. My folks were not too receptive to me wearing glasses so after my eye exam at the age of 11 when they were told that I needed glasses, they ignored the advice and by the time I was 12 I was a -2.50.

Coffeeshop

Just a mini story by Doreen. BTW, English is not Doreen's mother tongue, and look how she can write stories it her second language. It is really unusual. And very good.

by Doreen F.

Alex and her friend Mel used to go to the same coffee shop every Wednesday and Friday during their semester. They always went there during their lunch break. The coffee shop was opposite the university and offered the best coffee in town and had great bagels as well. And there also was a really cute and funny waiter who was always joking around. He was not very tall, but slim and had dark blond hair, which was a bit longer, but not too long and he had the bluest eyes Alex had ever seen. His name was Jay and he always gave Alex a smile which lasted a bit longer than would have been normal.

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

I think it is time to bring another gay story. I admit I had a problem with gay stories some time ago. I did not want them on the old site. But some people persuaded me I should change my attitude. One of them was Jules, the author of the following story. He is a clever man, educated, intelligent. As we say in my country " Ha is a man I could go to a pub to have some beers." And then I had some clients, who were gays, and they were good and funny to wirk with. So, this is how gay stories appeared in my hard disk to be uploaded and become a part of the collection.

Featuring Will Shakespeare the gay optometrist

by Julian

Part I

The moment of truth came when my driving instructor said, “Read me the number of that car over there.”

It had never occurred to me that other people might be able to see better than I could; I mean, everything in the distance faded off into a blur, that was just the way things were; and if I remembered seeing more clearly when I was younger, why then I knew things changed as you grew up. I could see all that I needed to see, as far as I knew, and I was happy with that. I suppose if I’d been in an ordinary school I’d have noticed the other kids could read something in the blur on the blackboard—but there was no blur, because there were no blackboards, at the Stage School where I had a scholarship. It wasn’t so much a drama school as a place where young actors could combine their stage work with getting a decent general education. Quite a lot of the teaching was on a one-to-one basis and the rest in small groups, in small rooms where nothing was very far away. Except when exams were looming, our general education was dovetailed in with our professional engagements: auditions, rehearsals, stage performances and studio sessions for TV and the big screen. I was certainly a privileged kid—and I had just landed a good part in a soap opera that looked as if it might run for years. Parts like that can get you off to a good start, as long as you don’t get typecast; and they provide a steady income when you’re ‘resting’ as they say from other work.

I was pretty well accustomed to public transport—as far as I knew everybody waited till the bus reached the stop to see where it was going—but it was going to be really handy if I could drive myself, maybe get a runabout of my own if I went on earning well. So of course I booked in at a driving school as soon as I could manage it.

Then, as I said, came the crunch: “Before we start, just read me the number of that car over there.”

I looked where he was pointing; certainly I could see a car, a big blue car, and it didn’t take much imagination to persuade myself I could see where the number plate was, but read the number? No chance!

“What do you mean?” I said. “You can’t expect anybody to read at that distance!”

Myopia Virus from Outer Space

by R.J.

After having my dinner I went out for a walk on the seashore. It was quite late and dark there. The sea was calm and the sky was clear. After walking some distance, I sat down to relax and enjoy the cool breeze. While looking at the mesh of stars, my eyes got focused on one big twinkling star. It was a lot bigger than any other star in the sky. The star kept growing in size quite rapidly and in few minutes it came so close and made me realize that it’s not a star but a spaceship. A big egg-shaped spaceship! My eyes and mouth were wide open and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Before I could think of anything, a bright light struck me from the spaceship and when I blinked open my eyes I was inside it. I was sitting inside the spaceship in the same position as I was sitting on the beach. For a moment it felt like I am watching one of those science-fiction movies, but it was real and I was inside a real spaceship.

It was dark inside and suddenly there was light. What I saw, I couldn’t believe, a beautiful woman approaching me! I had no idea what was going on. Is she an alien, but she looked human! A woman!
As she came closer, I was mesmerized by her beauty. She had curly-brown hair, slender body, tall legs, and sharp facial features. She was amazingly beautiful. I asked her what’s going on. Who are you and where am I?? She didn’t respond back. Not sure if she could understand my language. She came up-close. She was a perfect woman. I looked into her eyes and her pupils were white, which was quite strange and it appeared as though she is blind.

The Promise

by RJ

I used to be an avid traveler and have visited most of the unexplored places in India. India is a huge country and has lots of tourist places, but my interest lies in exploring the unexplored. India is a developing country and has many unexplored villages, customs, tribes, and culture.

I am from the northern part of the country. I had been working relentlessly for 10 years now, so I resigned from my job and took a long break to travel and explore. I packed my bags and boarded the train and headed to the southern part of the country. This part is known for its exquisite landscape, rivers, and mountains.

I reached the railway station of a big southern city. I looked at the map and spotted some good remote places amidst of nature. I then boarded a state-run bus to reach a remote village, which according to me is quite beautiful and unexplored. It was hell of a ride as the bus took the road to the village. Finally, I reached my destination. As I thought, there were no hotels in the village and the time when I reached there it was already dark and I was in the remotest part of the country with no place for shelter.

Murder in the Street

Doreen wrote a detective story, with the glasses theme, of course. Sometimes I wonder why there are so few female authors in the genre of glasses fetish stories. It is a pity we do not have more talented women who could contribute to the scene.

by Doreen F.

Could you believe it? There had been a murder in my street. I would never have thought that was possible. The owner of the tennis centre was found dead in his kitchen. And his new girlfriend had also been killed. Of course nobody really knew any details, but most were really curious and wanted to know exactly what had happened.

Not too long after the discovery of the bodies the police was all around asking everyone if he had seen anything suspicious. The house was at the far end of the road, about 100 metres away from mine, which seemed rather close to me. But I had not seen anything, at least I thought so. The street was rather quiet in the evenings. I did not even know when exactly the killing was supposed to have taken place.

But I was not really surprised when a rather nice police-man came knocking at my door. He wanted to know if I had seen anything suspicious and told me the approximate time of when the murder had taken place.

Much Ado about Nothing

This is the first part of the Will Shakespeare series by Julian, who used to write quite interesting men-in-glasses (MIG) stories. Let us hope his muse wil kiss him again to make him write more ....

An early story of Will Shakespeare

by Jules 

They say that when somebody goes into school wearing glasses for the first time everybody will want to try them on, and nine out of ten will say “My God, these are strong!” They’re right too, that was how it happened when we all tried Billy Shakespeare’s new glasses on. But I wasn’t one of the nine. I was the tenth. I was the one who tried them on and took them off, said nothing, and went on saying nothing for a while. I was the one who suddenly saw everything crystal clear, and tried to avoid realizing what this meant.
I took them off, I said nothing and hoped nobody would notice my agitation, and it seemed all was well. I couldn’t possibly need glasses. Could I? One thing was quite certain: I didn’t want glasses. The last thing I wanted to be was a four-eyed geek. That wouldn’t appeal at all to the guys I wanted to hang around with and (I may as well admit it) fool around with.
Billy’s glasses would be a nine days’ wonder and I could keep my head down. It worried me a bit for a few days, maybe nine, and then I began to forget it. I tried not to notice that I always went for the seat nearest to the TV screen. It came natural to me to play up in class, and all the teachers kept me up front. No, I had no problems. No, my eyes were fine. No, I didn’t need specs. Then my parents started to talk about driving lessons.
That was why Billy Shakespeare had had to get glasses: he’d gone for driving lessons and failed the vision test. I got hold of the Highway Code and read it: “you MUST be able to read a vehicle number plate from a distance of 20.5 metres (67 feet—about five car lengths) in good daylight.” Five car lengths—but how big should the cars be? Minis? Jaguars? I began to read car numbers at every opportunity: this one was OK, that was out of range, but how far was 20.5 metres? This time the worry persisted; my birthday was approaching and sooner or later the moment of truth would come. I’d better see if I could check it out a bit more thoroughly. The opportunity came sooner than I expected. I was crossing the school sports ground when I spotted three cars parked on the far side; all I had to do was walk towards them till the numbers came in focus and then pace out the distance; I was pretty tall even then, and still growing, so I reckoned I could cover about a metre with each step. I walked towards the cars, watching the number plates...still nothing I could decipher...now I could see the letters and numbers, but not make out what they were...ah! That was more like it, and I began to count my long paces...three more and I realized I hadn’t had it quite right, start again...twelve, thirteen, fourteen! Hell’s bells, even if my paces were a full metre each I was nowhere near reading a number plate at the required distance. I had a problem; how to get out of it, that was the question. Suddenly I realized somebody was watching me; squinting, I could make out that it was Peter Fraser, the best-looking guy in my year and the one I really wanted to impress. He was a tall slim black lad, with the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen: long, with long fingers; no wonder he was a brilliant pianist and organist. I tried to think of an innocent answer to the inevitable questions, but apparently they weren’t inevitable after all; he nodded and turned away. The previous question remained though: what was I going to do? The choice seemed to be between getting glasses before the lessons started and waiting till I was asked to read a number plate; the only other possibility was not worth considering: I could talk my parents out of my learning to drive.

An Optical Gift

An Optical Gift

This story is purely fictional, any characters names, situations, events and problems described are purely coincidental.

by Bobby

I fell in love for the first time when I was 5. Really! It was in the kindergarten. I started kindergarten that year as my mom thought I needed to get used to a group of children before I would start elementary school. And .. I fell in  love with a girl the very first day. I still remember her name: Martina. She was cute. Tiny girl with red hair and small glasses on her nose. We played together.

Later in the first grade of my elementary school I fell in love again. I do not remember the name of the girl, but I remember her auburn pig tails, little nose and her glasses. She wore those glasses children used to wear in the mid sixties. Rather cat eyes, brownish. She wore a grey plastic patch over her right eye. I did not know why, but I liked that. I never spoke to her. I just looked. It took one year. Ten her family moved and I have not seen her since that last day.

Enamored With Myopia

by Specs4ever
The church was packed. Dad had been in business in this town for 50 years, and even though he had retired 5 years ago at age 75, the townspeople and those from the surrounding countryside had packed the church out of respect. Everywhere I looked I could see the reflections glinting off the faces off the plano fronted lenses of the glasses most of the crowd wore. Oh sure, there were a few plus lenses in some of the glasses out there, but most of the crowd wore reasonably strong minus lenses. And of the 20% or so of the crowd that wasn't wearing glasses, almost all of them wore contact lenses. Dad had been very successful.

Chance Encounter

by Doreen F.

"Emma, is this you?" she heard somebody behind her and turned around.
"Julian, hi, wow it must have been years…" Emma replied when she recognised one her former school mates.
"Yes, indeed, my graduation was about ten years ago and yours nine, right?"
"Could be about right."
"What are you doing here anyway?"
"I was going to buy a new pair of glasses and I’m overwhelmed by the variety of frames. And you?"
"I just wanted to buy myself some contact lens paraphernalia, but then I saw you and hey, it’s great to see you."
"Yeah, I didn’t know you wore contacts. Erh, listen… if you could help me choose frames, I’d buy you a coffee."
"Okay, agreed."
Julian gave Emma some great advice and eventually she settled for a pair of dark red plastic frames, which they both thought looked great. Julian bought his contact lens paraphernalia and they left and went to one of the cafés.

Late One Night

by an unknown author

If I could have had those ten or so years over again I'd have done things very differently. First of all, I'd have never taken a chance on second-best. Listen to me, don't do it. What you see is what you get, no more no less. People don't change, other than getting older. When you choose a partner, and mean it to be for life, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, just make sure you get it right. I drew one good card, I got richer. He helped me achieve that. But being the ungrateful bitch that I am, that wasn't enough. Our relationship disintegrated, and there I was, a business owner, and effectively, emotionally, alone.So every day, I would leave my beautiful home, climb into my fantastic car, drive to my dreamy little store, and sell delightful bits and pieces to a wide range of interesting people. I bought lovely clothes, ate delicious food, and went to fascinating places.
And it was all so wonderful that every night I'd slip between the silk sheets of my deeply luxurious bed, and cry myself to sleep.
Yes, that's right. I married him for his money, his status, and his charm. He was, to everyone who knew me, a Good Catch. Handsome, suave, and generous. We honeymooned in Bali.

Filming

by Doreen F.

Teresa always felt thrilled when she started to work at a new company. She would meet many people and would be shown around. Then her mentor would explain how everything worked and she'd get used to it. Then she'd stay until she found something more appealing. Her first jobs were being a waitress, but she soon got bored of that and only continued doing it as long as she was at college. Teresa often moved to other cities to get a job, she loved moving around and never had too many things to carry around. There was hardly any job which she had done for more than a year and many for a much shorter period of time.

FEASTING WITH PANTHERS - final part

Part 5: Philip's Story

by Jules

It had been a bad night, and it was a worse morning. Actually, it had been a bad time since my boy friend walked out of my life, six months to the day, which was what made it extra specially hellish. And it wasn’t my fault—I can’t help my bad eyesight.

FEASTING WITH PANTHERS - cont.

Part 4: Duncan’s story

by Jules

Like all my stories, this is sheer fiction. I was never a Boy Scout, and this is probably evident to any reader who ever was!
Love and kisses, Jules.
One of the most popular Scout songs is The Quartermaster’s Store. Sooner or later it will be sung at any and every Scout gathering, and round this particular camp fire it went on for ages, as we invented more and more verses, often getting personal about one another. After each verse came the refrain:

My eyes are dim, I cannot see,

I have not got my specs with me,

I have no-ot got my-y specs with me.

FEASTING WITH PANTHERS - cont.

Part 3: Henry’s Story

by Jules

It seemed like a good idea at the time—but I should never have married Fran. Actually I should never have married anybody. When I was at university Father Paul, the chaplain, used to say I was “one of nature’s bachelors” which was his kindly way of saying I was as queer as a three-pound note. But when you’re teaching in a Church of England high school, and think people may have noticed you have an eye for the boys—well, you hope a wedding will keep the gossips quiet. Quieter, anyway.