Flash Fiction Friday 2022 – Week 8
Flash Fiction Friday continues in 2022. New pieces appearing every Friday on my Patreon throughout the year. Minimum pledge $3 per month. Find out what they’re all about and read some excerpts from the latest update in this post.
Excerpts
Perfect Ass
“Fuck!” Jason muttered in bed as he struggled to stop the onslaught of sexy images from flooding his brain. They were all of Marcia, and from the favorite part of her anatomy. While his closest friends only cared about boobs – the bigger, the better! – his preferences had always been the same since the days of the first erection. He was an ass man through and through and hers was just…
“Perfect, right?” she purred inside his mind, repeating the same argument he had long come to accept as a universal truth.
“Yes,” he replied, pearls of sweat on his forehead and the back of his restless hands.
(…)
Speedrun Into Submission
Richard Watkins rubbed his hands with alcohol before picking up the controller and smiled at the enthusiastic audience sitting behind him. This was it. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for, the day where a new world record could finally be unleashed.
The Spring Speedrunning Festival, or SSF as it was widely known, was one of gaming’s most prestigious events in the last decade, home to spectacular displays of sequence breaking, glitch implementation, and far too many crazy shenanigans that defied easy explanations. By cleverly manipulating small flaws in the game’s code, long-sprawling adventures could be beaten in half an hour or less to the joy of hundreds of thousands of viewers from around the world who could never get enough of watching impossible things happen on screen.
(…)
Surprise Party
“Surprise! Happy birthday!” a choir of perfectly synchronized voices sang in unison as Bianca opened the front door of her house and turned on the lights. It was a surprise, alright! She hated unexpected parties and had specifically told her girlfriend Daisy she wanted nothing out of the ordinary that day. Why she had gone against her wishes was a mystery she wanted to be cleared right away. Daisy had some explaining to do.
“Hey, girl. I’m so glad you’re home,” the blue-haired beautician with a smile as big as The Ritz said, holding two glasses of champagne, one in each hand.
“What’s all this?” Bianca complained, removing her wet jacket. Red and green balloons dropped from the ceiling as she took a step forward and the twenty guests inside suddenly stopped talking, staring vacantly at the two lovers.
(…)
You Are Not Being Mind-Controlled
You are not being mind-controlled. I repeat you are not being mind-controlled. How ridiculous it would be that you, that don’t truly believe such a thing is possible nor would wish to be involved with it if it were, would find yourself suddenly thinking other thoughts than your own, simply because you took a break from your incredibly busy and tiring day to read a couple of sentences on your screen of choice? It’s so utterly ludicrous to conceive such a thing that I can’t help but laugh at the mere innuendo. Perhaps we should laugh together.
You are not being mind-controlled. It takes an incredible imagination and even a twisted sense of humor to entertain such a possibility in this day and age.
(…)
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