The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
Jane is a curious lady. 27 years old, pretty, with a voluptuous figure - looking at her you wouldn't suspect that she was the kind to suffer from a strange and disturbing compulsion.
Her problem began when her parents presented her with a Barbie doll on her 6th birthday.
Jane loved that doll. She'd comb its hair, admire its slender curves, and generally mather it to death.
But her innocent fondness for her Barbie awakened something deep within her psyche which in later years would ruin her life.
You see, Jane has an uncontrollable impulse to touch-and-feel almost everything she sees. She's what psychologists call a 'Fondlemaniac'; and as you can imagine, this condition has, over the years, landed her in all sorts of trouble.
Like the time when she couldn't resist a dual-handed squeeze session with a businessman's wobbly beer-belly on the number 47 bus.
Or like when she dived onto a pool table and lovingly caressed a teenage boy's cue-tip.
And what about when she frantically chased a husband and wife's poodle around an amusement park demanding a feel of its soft wet snout.
These were relatively minor incidents, but as time passed her 'touchy-feely' compulsion intensified, and Jane found herself descending into realms where simple fondling became twisted meddling.
Like the time when she stroked and petted a neighbour's gerbil until it bled.
Or like when she was discovered stark naked in the stables of a ranch, luxuriating in the touch-sensation of a steaming pile of horse dung.
And then came the 'straw that broke the camel's back' incident, when she inadvertently slaughtered 17 ducks near a beauty-spot in what the tabloid's dubbed, "THE FONDLE FENZY OF A MAD WOMAN!"
Of course these days Jane is locked away in a secure psychiatric unit, separated from the other inmates for her own welfare.
But if we were to pay a visit to that secure unit right now, and we zoomed into her cell, what would we see and hear? Well, let's do it............. [*shaky camera footage slowly focusing*] - There she is! Combing her blood-wet golden locks over and over, jabbering to her pale reflection in the mirror:
"When I get outta here, I'm gonna be a porn star. Yes ma'am. At least in that world my fondness-for-fondlin' will be appreciated. And I think I'll call myself Jane Fondle. I'll do anyone and anythang. Yes, you betcha. Jane Fondle, I like that name. If I could only get my lonesome butt outta this place.... I'd be big, real big. I'd be a star, I just know I would...."
Jane, what a curiously sick lady - she seems incapable of admitting to herself that she has a major problem. If she doesn't change, she'll always be nothing more than a faceless statistic filed under 'Misfit' - forgotten by society, and alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.
Her problem began when her parents presented her with a Barbie doll on her 6th birthday.
Jane loved that doll. She'd comb its hair, admire its slender curves, and generally mather it to death.
But her innocent fondness for her Barbie awakened something deep within her psyche which in later years would ruin her life.
You see, Jane has an uncontrollable impulse to touch-and-feel almost everything she sees. She's what psychologists call a 'Fondlemaniac'; and as you can imagine, this condition has, over the years, landed her in all sorts of trouble.
Like the time when she couldn't resist a dual-handed squeeze session with a businessman's wobbly beer-belly on the number 47 bus.
Or like when she dived onto a pool table and lovingly caressed a teenage boy's cue-tip.
And what about when she frantically chased a husband and wife's poodle around an amusement park demanding a feel of its soft wet snout.
These were relatively minor incidents, but as time passed her 'touchy-feely' compulsion intensified, and Jane found herself descending into realms where simple fondling became twisted meddling.
Like the time when she stroked and petted a neighbour's gerbil until it bled.
Or like when she was discovered stark naked in the stables of a ranch, luxuriating in the touch-sensation of a steaming pile of horse dung.
And then came the 'straw that broke the camel's back' incident, when she inadvertently slaughtered 17 ducks near a beauty-spot in what the tabloid's dubbed, "THE FONDLE FENZY OF A MAD WOMAN!"
Of course these days Jane is locked away in a secure psychiatric unit, separated from the other inmates for her own welfare.
But if we were to pay a visit to that secure unit right now, and we zoomed into her cell, what would we see and hear? Well, let's do it............. [*shaky camera footage slowly focusing*] - There she is! Combing her blood-wet golden locks over and over, jabbering to her pale reflection in the mirror:
"When I get outta here, I'm gonna be a porn star. Yes ma'am. At least in that world my fondness-for-fondlin' will be appreciated. And I think I'll call myself Jane Fondle. I'll do anyone and anythang. Yes, you betcha. Jane Fondle, I like that name. If I could only get my lonesome butt outta this place.... I'd be big, real big. I'd be a star, I just know I would...."
Jane, what a curiously sick lady - she seems incapable of admitting to herself that she has a major problem. If she doesn't change, she'll always be nothing more than a faceless statistic filed under 'Misfit' - forgotten by society, and alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.
I have a movie starring Jane Fondle in it.... No wait, I'm thinking of Jane Fonda. Pity :-D
Ineedsleep wrote:
> Black Glove wrote:
>
> Combing her blood-wet golden locks ???
Are you questioning "locks"? - another word for hair, although I wish I'd put "curls".
Thanks for all the replies :)
> Black Glove wrote:
>
> Combing her blood-wet golden locks ???
Are you questioning "locks"? - another word for hair, although I wish I'd put "curls".
Thanks for all the replies :)
How utterly cool.
Black Glove wrote:
> Combing her blood-wet golden locks ???
Enjoyed, as usual.
> Combing her blood-wet golden locks ???
Enjoyed, as usual.
DeltaJava wrote:
> Reminds me of Lenny from Of Mice and Men.
"She's real purdy George"
We're doing it for the THIRD time in a year. Stupid GCSEs.
Oh, and nicely written.
> Reminds me of Lenny from Of Mice and Men.
"She's real purdy George"
We're doing it for the THIRD time in a year. Stupid GCSEs.
Oh, and nicely written.
Reminds me of Lenny from Of Mice and Men.
Nice
I wonder if she ever...
I wonder if she ever...
Black Glove wrote:
> alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.
I say kill her now, save draining tax money....flaming looney!
> alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.
I say kill her now, save draining tax money....flaming looney!
Cool, liked it
Jane is a curious lady. 27 years old, pretty, with a voluptuous figure - looking at her you wouldn't suspect that she was the kind to suffer from a strange and disturbing compulsion.
Her problem began when her parents presented her with a Barbie doll on her 6th birthday.
Jane loved that doll. She'd comb its hair, admire its slender curves, and generally mather it to death.
But her innocent fondness for her Barbie awakened something deep within her psyche which in later years would ruin her life.
You see, Jane has an uncontrollable impulse to touch-and-feel almost everything she sees. She's what psychologists call a 'Fondlemaniac'; and as you can imagine, this condition has, over the years, landed her in all sorts of trouble.
Like the time when she couldn't resist a dual-handed squeeze session with a businessman's wobbly beer-belly on the number 47 bus.
Or like when she dived onto a pool table and lovingly caressed a teenage boy's cue-tip.
And what about when she frantically chased a husband and wife's poodle around an amusement park demanding a feel of its soft wet snout.
These were relatively minor incidents, but as time passed her 'touchy-feely' compulsion intensified, and Jane found herself descending into realms where simple fondling became twisted meddling.
Like the time when she stroked and petted a neighbour's gerbil until it bled.
Or like when she was discovered stark naked in the stables of a ranch, luxuriating in the touch-sensation of a steaming pile of horse dung.
And then came the 'straw that broke the camel's back' incident, when she inadvertently slaughtered 17 ducks near a beauty-spot in what the tabloid's dubbed, "THE FONDLE FENZY OF A MAD WOMAN!"
Of course these days Jane is locked away in a secure psychiatric unit, separated from the other inmates for her own welfare.
But if we were to pay a visit to that secure unit right now, and we zoomed into her cell, what would we see and hear? Well, let's do it............. [*shaky camera footage slowly focusing*] - There she is! Combing her blood-wet golden locks over and over, jabbering to her pale reflection in the mirror:
"When I get outta here, I'm gonna be a porn star. Yes ma'am. At least in that world my fondness-for-fondlin' will be appreciated. And I think I'll call myself Jane Fondle. I'll do anyone and anythang. Yes, you betcha. Jane Fondle, I like that name. If I could only get my lonesome butt outta this place.... I'd be big, real big. I'd be a star, I just know I would...."
Jane, what a curiously sick lady - she seems incapable of admitting to herself that she has a major problem. If she doesn't change, she'll always be nothing more than a faceless statistic filed under 'Misfit' - forgotten by society, and alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.
Her problem began when her parents presented her with a Barbie doll on her 6th birthday.
Jane loved that doll. She'd comb its hair, admire its slender curves, and generally mather it to death.
But her innocent fondness for her Barbie awakened something deep within her psyche which in later years would ruin her life.
You see, Jane has an uncontrollable impulse to touch-and-feel almost everything she sees. She's what psychologists call a 'Fondlemaniac'; and as you can imagine, this condition has, over the years, landed her in all sorts of trouble.
Like the time when she couldn't resist a dual-handed squeeze session with a businessman's wobbly beer-belly on the number 47 bus.
Or like when she dived onto a pool table and lovingly caressed a teenage boy's cue-tip.
And what about when she frantically chased a husband and wife's poodle around an amusement park demanding a feel of its soft wet snout.
These were relatively minor incidents, but as time passed her 'touchy-feely' compulsion intensified, and Jane found herself descending into realms where simple fondling became twisted meddling.
Like the time when she stroked and petted a neighbour's gerbil until it bled.
Or like when she was discovered stark naked in the stables of a ranch, luxuriating in the touch-sensation of a steaming pile of horse dung.
And then came the 'straw that broke the camel's back' incident, when she inadvertently slaughtered 17 ducks near a beauty-spot in what the tabloid's dubbed, "THE FONDLE FENZY OF A MAD WOMAN!"
Of course these days Jane is locked away in a secure psychiatric unit, separated from the other inmates for her own welfare.
But if we were to pay a visit to that secure unit right now, and we zoomed into her cell, what would we see and hear? Well, let's do it............. [*shaky camera footage slowly focusing*] - There she is! Combing her blood-wet golden locks over and over, jabbering to her pale reflection in the mirror:
"When I get outta here, I'm gonna be a porn star. Yes ma'am. At least in that world my fondness-for-fondlin' will be appreciated. And I think I'll call myself Jane Fondle. I'll do anyone and anythang. Yes, you betcha. Jane Fondle, I like that name. If I could only get my lonesome butt outta this place.... I'd be big, real big. I'd be a star, I just know I would...."
Jane, what a curiously sick lady - she seems incapable of admitting to herself that she has a major problem. If she doesn't change, she'll always be nothing more than a faceless statistic filed under 'Misfit' - forgotten by society, and alone within her padded-cell until her dying day.