I've got somewhat of a strange request. I'm trying to come up with 100 different tiny tiny stories for recorder stones. I've been on it for a few days and I'll get there eventually, but I'm sure the variety will be a bit richer if I get some help from a few people here.
I'm talking only 10 to 20 lines per 'story' maximum.
I'll post a few examples of ones I or my s.o. already made in the next post.
If some are wondering about the why, here's the why:
Why
My players ended up in Sigil last session. They ended up mid-joining the society of sensation at the end of that session. They are reaching the higher levels now, and in my campaign I'm trying to spread the ever growing expected wealth levels among diverse and plausible sources. One thing I came up with, was to have each of them experience several recorder stones, and each stone would give them a small inherent bonus (skill, save, ability, etc...) that fitted the experience. (Don't worry, there's an ingame reason why the experiences of the stones will have such a profound effect on them) I wanted each of them to have the option to choose 10 stones out of 100 different stones which would each have their own colour, texture, etc...
When posting experiences, keep in mind, that my players know next to nothing of planescape, so context should make clear what more exotic stories are about. 
(And our actual campaign world is Toril if that matters)
Examples:
Love
The longing is unbearable. The object of her affection is so close, yet the there is a distance between them that cannot be bridged. She looks at the soft, silken face of the beautiful succubus, the same longing reflected in her radiant eyes.. Their hearts ache for each others touch.
Her eyes trace the rounding of her hips. They linger on the gentle curve of her belly, tracing it downwards to the hidden spot that urges for her affection, while her lover returns the attention.
Their love cannot be.
It's not fair!
They both reach out, opposing their fate.
Where their hands touch, the water ripples outward, distorting the image of her lover.
Boundaries
Their pride almost reached a level of rapture. The ritual was complete. Thanat'hael saw his own feelings reflected in the faces of his colleague wizards. The rift in front of them was opening. Colours of all sorts radiated on him and his euphoric fellows, as their portal stretched throughout the known realms and beyond. No one had ever reached this far, no one had ever peered beyond the boundaries of reality.
The portal focused on its end destination.
It was.... wrong.
The first thing Thanat'hael saw was a writhing mass of tentacles and the colour purple. Then that image lost cohesion, for forms did not belong in the realm they had opened.
The first thing he heard was one of the other wizards laughing. It was Idril Calafas. She wouldn't stop laughing. She clawed at her eyes, trying to remove them from their sockets. The new realm was bleeding into their world, trying to form colours and shapes and sounds so it could exist here. Another wizard started floating upwards, while his body was twisting, changing, into the most horrible of sounds.
I must warn...Others must know!
Thanat'hael ordered his legs to run, away from this. But away was becoming up, and up was becoming ripples. The maniacal laughter and cries were warping his spirit, while he tried to maintain some order into his perception. He couldn't.
Reliable
Monodrone twenty-five thousand sixty-three was mining.
-”Ore,” it said, digging up the substance it had been shown and which it recognised.
“Ore, ore, ore.” There was a lot of ore in this spot. The little modron's task was to mine it until its instructions were renewed, one and three thirds of a billionth of one Passing in the future.
“Ore”, it repeated, as it recognised more of the stuff in the place where it was digging. It did not, however, recognise the creatures sneaking up on him. They did not behave or look like a duodrone, or anything he had ever seen, and it had been around for little short of one and a half tenth of a Passing.
-”Ignore,” the monodrone said, mining on. “Ignore, ignore. Ore. Ore ore ore.”
Birth
Nameless was picked up. It knew it would never see the others again, at least not in this form. Nameless was chosen. The others would remain. Many of them would die. The air was cold, to its moist body. It wasn't immersed in fluid any more. Its source of food was gone. But it would get a new one. A scream as Nameless was put in its new home. Another scream as it started to eat its way undisturbed, to the fresh source of brainy material. In seven days, its new host would be transformed into its own body, and it would truly join the illithid community.
Name
Months or weeks. Innaxis wasn't counting the days. She had been focusing on but one thing: the name. Everyone knew of course that the thing surrounding her was called a cage, a cell or a prison,...; there were many words for it. Innaxis knew words. They mattered not. She needed the name, its true, universal name. Her master had thought her the principles of using a thing's true name. Using it was simple; finding it was hard. The name rang through every square inch of her cell. It vibrated through the walls and the iron bars. But it was a very elusive thing.
Now she had found it.
The Yugoloth stood up. She extended her hand and triumphantly shouted the true name of her prison. It quavered, it resisted, then its passive urge to maintain its proper form crumbled.
The walls receded. The thorned manacles that had endlessly pierced her wrists flowed off of her like water. The metal bars bent outwards, forming a gaping hole in their midst.
Gonnorax had made a fatal error letting her live. An error he would soon suffer, for a long time.
You get the gist.