Saturday Story 2023 – Week 46 (The Black Queen: Legend – Part 1)
It’s time for a trip down memory lane on my Patreon. We go back to the universe of The Black Queen today but in a different way. I first started this tale a few years ago and shared the early drafts with my patrons but the concept fizzled out. After some time, I was finally able to figure out what to do with it and now this previously unfinished tale will be seeing the light of day, little by little. Synopsis below:
When Jeremy is tasked with writing a piece about an erotic urban legend, he discovers some truths are better left buried.
In today’s installment, Marilyn’s worst nightmares come true. Please enjoy.
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
A small excerpt is available below:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/93131044
(…)
“But this one didn’t,” he thought. Inside the folder, there were dozens of police reports and eyewitness accounts about this mysterious figure clad in purple who had turned men into mindless zombie addicts, forced to comply with her every whim, even if that meant renouncing family, friends, and all personal possessions. The original stories that started it all were there too, absurd constructs that made him laugh out loud.
Still, those stories were ground zero and any proper investigation should start there. Not much was known of their author other than a pen name and a most likely outdated e-mail address. On his own, he didn’t have the means to know more but, luckily, he knew someone who did. Whether she would be pleased to hear from him again remained to be seen but there was no harm trying. He picked up the phone and called her right away.* * *
Laura “Jailbreaker” Hawthorne’s fingers moved at trailblazing speed across the keyboard as her on-screen neon blue-haired avatar vaulted over cartoonish environments. She had recently installed a new jiggle physics mod on her favorite Battle Royale game and the results were impressive. Nothing screamed “Your ass is mine!” more than having breasts the size of extra large Pilates balls and still being able to trounce the competition with one hand behind her back. The latest round was almost over, her winning streak heralding a new record.
“Seventy-six, boys. Why are you still trying? Just give up already and crawl back to your mother’s basements, if you ever left them, that is.” She said over the mic, already expecting the familiar “Fuck you, bitch!” in return.(…)
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