# September 2014 - LM - Alien Mating Rituals



## Fin (Sep 2, 2014)

Click here for the workshop thread


*LITERARY MANEUVERS*​Alien Mating Rituals​



The winner will receive a badge pinned to their profile and given a month’s access to FoWF where you’ll have access to hidden forums and use of the chat room.


Have the prompt included in some way into your story.


*The judges for this round are:*

*Folcro*; *Guy Faukes*; *Pluralized*; *Smith*


*Rules*


*All forum rules apply.* The LM competition is considered a creative area of the forum. If your story contains inappropriate language or content, do _not_ forget add a disclaimer or it could result in disciplinary actions taken. Click *here* for the full list of rules and guidelines of the forum.
*No Poetry!* Nothing against you poets out there, but this isn’t a place for your poems. Head on over to the poetry challenges for good competition over there. Some of us fiction people wouldn’t be able to understand your work! Click *here* for the poetry challenges.
*No posts that are not entries into the competition are allowed.* If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to take part in discussion please head over to the *LM Coffee Shop. *We’ll be glad to take care of your needs over there.
*Editing your entry after posting isn’t allowed.* You’ll be given a ten minute grace period, but after that your story may not be scored.
*Only one entry per member.*
*No liking entries until the scores go up.*
*The word limit is 650 words not including the title.* If you go over - Your story will not be counted. Microsoft Word and Google Drive are the standard for checking this. If you feel it’s incorrect, send it to the host of the competition and we’ll check it for you and add our approval upon acceptance.




*There are a few ways to post your entry:*


If you aren't too concerned about your first rights, then you can simply post your entry here in this thread.
You can opt to have your entry posted in the *LM Workshop Thread* which is a special thread just for LM entries. You would put your story there if you wish to protect your first rights, in case you wish to have the story published one day. Note: If you do post it in the workshop thread, you must post a link to it here in this thread otherwise your story may not be counted.
You may post your story anonymously. To do so, send your story to the host of the competition. If you wish to have us post it in the workshop thread then say so. Your name will be revealed upon the release of the score.


Everyone is welcome to participate. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score.

*This competition will close on:*

Monday, the 15th of September at 11:59 PM GMT time.
Click here for the current time.

*Good luck, everyone.*​


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## Terry D (Sep 3, 2014)

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...Mating-Rituals-Workshop?p=1770035#post1770035


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## Plasticweld (Sep 3, 2014)

*You have a new personal message  606 words*

To the membership. 

Some of you know me, for those who don’t please don’t discard this message, your life depends on it. 

I have made a hobby of learning who the members are of this site and what makes them tick.  I have been for months, digging through old posts and archives trying to understand the dynamics of membership.  One troubling thing kept popping up, where did the old members go?  Old time members with 100s of posts,_ disappeared_, _gone_, all never to be heard from again. 

With the help of my son who is a software architect I was able to gain access to the back end of this forum, and hacked into private messages sent back and forth between the Administrators and the Moderators.  

I ask that you let me present the information I found, it is _shocking_.  Let me plead my case, so to say and let you decide.  Most of you will think I am crazy… Please just listen to the facts, it sounds crazy but the facts all make perfect sense. 

I found out the Admins and Mods here are Aliens.  I know it sounds insane, they are here and very real.  I have no idea what they are called on their planet, here they are called all sorts of human names.  The pictures they posted of themselves in their avatars, are ones they took off the internet; they joke about it with each other frequently.  From what I have read, from their Pms back and forth to each other, _is that they are here for you_.  I am not sure how it works, somehow in order for them to survive they need to take your intellect. The forum is a farm for growing and cultivating intellect for their survival.  They can no longer reproduce so their survival is dependent on sucking the life force out of us.  They jokingly call it sex, in snide and crude ways that is obviously funny to only them.  

It is all a devious scheme and very well planned.  Have you ever noticed, the site does not take sponsors? When a new person shows up, how they gang up on the newbies?  Asking them questions, probing them.  It is just like a woman at the grocery store squeezing the melons.  They refer to the “Introduce yourself” forum as the meat market to each other.  For us to be worth anything to them we have to be sharp, our mind functioning at near a 100 percent.  They give us contests, sometimes ridiculous posts or outlandish statements all in order to get your mind to grow.   They are no different than the farmer, feeding the calf before it is butchered.  Instead of putting on pounds they are going by post counts, stories written.  They watch the little green bar below the post count, when that gets full, it’s time for harvest! 

They joke about it, sometimes even refer to it as being published.  All I know is that one day the writer is here, then poof…gone.  Sometimes it is a ban, they like this, they never have to offer and explanation.   When they harvest a writer, they are content for only a short time, then it is back to the new crop of wanabe writers.  As best I can tell it takes anywhere from one to three years before they have fattened you up enough to satisfy their needs. 

If you have all kinds of “likes” and “lol” you are on their list.  A high post count, you are in their sights… They are lusting after you…Run.

I am going to try sending this, and pray that it gets through…Plasticweld


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## W.Goepner (Sep 5, 2014)

*
Alien Mating Rituals (644 words)*


"I warned you not to tell them." Kathrine said, shaking her head, "You know how badly I laughed when you told me." she was doing her best not to giggle.

Sampson groaned out, "I know damn it. Get the doctor to give me the shot will you?" He sigh as another pain subsided.

The doctor rolled his stool over by the table, he asked Samson to tell him again, "I promise not to laugh." he chortled. 

"Not until you give me the shot to stop these pains."Sampson grunted as another wave hit him. 

The doctor picked up the syringe and bid Sampson to roll onto his side. "This will hurt, until the medicine takes effect." He said as he injected the spinal block. He removed the syringe, drew a deep breath and let it out. "How does that feel?" 

Sampson reached down to his distended stomach. As his hand rubbed close to his navel he sighed, "It feels wonderful doc, now lets get this done."

All joking left the doctors voice as he watched Sampson's stomach contract. "Nurse, my utensils, we need to relieve this man of his burden." The doctor took forceps in hand and picked up a gauze pad soaked in the sterilizing solution, he rubbed it on the shaved portion of Sampson's belly. 

Picking up a scalpel, he turned to make the incision. Sampson's belly had a red line formed in the flesh, it appeared to be spreading. As the doctor sat staring, it widened and gave forth to the view of  the amniotic sack. Sampson's stomach contracted again, pushing the sac out of the gap.As the doctor picked it up, Sampson's stomach began to close, as he watched astonished. 

The doctor placed the amniotic sac into a wash basin, it dissolved away leaving a healthy baby boy. Slightly more pink than a normal human, but human like. The doctor picked him up to show Sampson and Kathrine. "Now please, Tell us how it happened again. I must log it and we would like to stay in touch, so his growth progress can be monitored."

"All right, seeing you are over the giggles, I'll tell you. As I had told you before, I was one of the contractors on ship to Mars.Once there, we would begin construction of a bio-dome. We no sooner landed, when a ship unlike anything I ever seen, lands next to us.Not certain of their intent, we waited inside our craft."

"Their ship began to glow, a silver/blue light expanded to encompass theirs and our ships. We watched as the hatch opened in the side of their ship, they walked out, no environmental suits, or anything other than a jumpsuit affair. Our bio-tech did a quick check on the air outside, as a knock resounded on our hatch."

"Fearful,we chose to chance only one person; me. I held my breath as long as I could, before I drew in a deep breath. Clean, cool, fresh air,assailed my lungs. I stepped out  to greet the visitors. Their skin was red, like they had a bad sunburn, other wise they were human. I extended my hand to great them, 'Hello, I am Sampson, of Earth.' The nearest one looked back at the others, then took my hand, his middle finger rubbing my palm. 

"Hello, I am Tail, of Alfacentary."

"What brings you here?"

"We swing this way from time to time."

"You do? Why?"

"Mars was our home, until a commit struck it."

"Wow! did you ever visit earth?"

"Yes, it was our vacation spot. We must return home now."

"So soon?"

"Yes, we wished to let you know we are out there, you arewelcome to visit."

"Visit?"

"'Yes, your Son knows the way. You are now pregnant.' He said,as he let go of my hand. That was nine months ago."


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## thepancreas11 (Sep 5, 2014)

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER (649 words) WARNING: Language and (you guessed it) adult themes.


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## kilroy214 (Sep 5, 2014)

*
Strange Magic
By Philip James  (638 words) Some profanity*


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## Ariel (Sep 5, 2014)

*Documentary*

By A. M. Sawtell


____
Light shone through the partially closed door.  Music blared from the tiny bathroom beyond.  Olly scooted closer on his knees, adjusted his khaki shorts, and lifted his digital camcorder to the crack.  His sister, Angela, was singing along into her hairbrush.  She wore a fuzzy pink robe and had just gotten out of the shower.

"Crikey," Olly said with his best Australian accent into the camera he'd turned back around towards himself,"do you hear the mating call on that one?  Let's watch and see the rest of her pre-date ritual, shall we?"

Olly swung the camera back to the gap in the door.  Angela had stopped singing into her brush and was plugging in her hair dryer.  The music was drowned out by the loud machine. Soon, her short blonde hair was dry and she stood in the mirror brushing it back from her face.  Angela gathered the front of her hair and twisted it to create a "bump" before securing it with bobby pins. 

"Whoa, look at the size of her artificially created crest," Olly continued his commentary with the bad accent, "see how she's plumped it up?  The male she's trying to impress must be very attractive."

The camera watched as Angela spritzed her hair and started to curl it.  Olly stifled a yawn and stretched out on the floor.  He perked up when Angela opened a drawer and pulled out her leopard-print make-up bag.

"Oh, we're in for a treat now!  The female has gotten out her face-altering potions.  It's very rare to get to watch one use these highly prized decoctions.  Watch as she applies the dyes.  

'She has spent hours watching older females of her pack on the mysterious device called YouTube demonstrate this very skill.  See how she has made her face look older? Now she's using the mysterious black pencil around her eyes," Olly whispered his commentary as Angela's hand slipped and she poked herself in the eye with her eyeliner, "Oh, that has to hurt."

Angela quickly dabbed at her eye and fanned at her face with a hand. 

Olly continued, "The hand waving we are witnessing is a primitive plea to her gods to ease the pain.  It seems to work as she is right back at it.  Oh, what is this?  She's chosen to use the traditional metal contraption.  None are truly sure of its purpose but watch as she presses it to her eyes."

Olly shifted slightly on the floor, "See the bright shade of red she's chosen for her lips? It indicates that this female is ready for the mating games played by two of her kind.  See how she smears it on then wipes it off with a tissue?  Very crafty, this one."

Angela blew a kiss to her reflection then left through the opposite door of the bathroom into her bedroom.  Olly heard drawers slamming and clothes flew past the open door as they were rejected.

"This is a very important part of the ritual.  Notice how each adornment is carefully considered and rejected in turn?  I don't dare get closer as the female is very easy to provoke at this time," Olly turned the camera back towards himself.

"Olly!  You little dweeb!  Mom!" Angela shrieked.  Olly scrambled to his feet.  Still looking into his camera, he said as he ran, "Oi, I've done it now.  She's caught me and is calling for her mother who can be very protective of her cub."


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## midnightpoet (Sep 6, 2014)

Alien Control Squad (Warning - Adult situations)


647 words

Under The Red Willow was a eclectic ebookshop on Alpha Street.  It smelled of plastic and cat litter.  A little bell rung when I entered and a small black cat skirted across the floor, chasing a mouse.  I felt for the mouse, I’ve been there. Shorty, the proprietor, looked up from his laptop. 

“May I help you?”

“Looking for a book on alien mating rituals,” I said, making the secret hand signal.

He pressed a button under the counter and a panel of ebooks slid to the side.  Headquarters was a jumble of blinking lights and unheard conversations.  This morning I felt bad vibes. Agent Q was at his desk.


“What’s up?” I asked.

“Agent X, we’ve had a series of rapes over the past few months on the south side of the city, near the spaceport.  It’s a Carpathian.”

Not good, Carpathia was a hell hole of a planet.  Although small by Earth standards, it controlled most of the illicit commerce in the Zeta Quadrant.  When the Earth Council allowed them space visas we were put on high alert.

“Anyone we know?”

“No,” Agent Q said.  “We’ve got a tongue print.  He’s known on the street as Ox.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s big.”

“Right.”

“Watch this surveillance video.  He’s leaving the scene of an attack.”

“I see,” I said.  Bulging yellow eye, check.  Long reptilian tail, check.  Piggish nose, check. Long prehensile tongue, check.  Size of an ox, check.

“What do they use those tongues for?”

“Sex, among other things.”

“Never mind, Q.  I don’t really want to know.  Any leads?”

“Not yet.  We’re to interview a victim.”

“Let’s ride, then.”

We were met at the apartment door by a human woman with a pig-faced baby on her hip.     

“You know Ox?” I asked after identifying myself.

“Yeah, I met him at the Scum of the Galaxy bar.  I told him no but he got me with his tongue before I could get away.  You know this little piggy came out in just two weeks?  By the time I realized I was pregnant it was already here.  I may keep it though, it’s kinda cute.”   

“Let’s bring him in,” Q said as we returned to Headquarters.  “He needs to be deported, at least.  Get a proton plasma blaster from weapons.  I’ll take my trusty 45-caliber pistol.”

“That antique?  They still make those?”    

“You can get anything at Honest Joe’s Space Emporium.”

He was also the local fence, but he was useful at times.  The Scum of the Galaxy was on the west side, near the waterfront.  The area was filled with dives and porn houses. You could get anything you want at the local red light district.  Anatomically impossible sex was common.  Despite all the technological advances of the 26th century, humanoids were, well, still humanoids.  Some things never change.  We hopped in our hovercar and split. 

The combined smells of the detritus of the universe was rank.  The interior of the joint was covered with tables for customers, and a small band was cranking out heavy space metal   A long, knife-scarred bar stretched from one end of the room to the other.  It was crowded with several specie types, but Ox wasn’t hard to spot.  Unfortunately, he saw us first and ducked out the back.  We followed, but were tripped up by several creatures who thought the sight of us sprawled on the floor was hilarious.  By the time we recovered he was gone.  Luckily, he left a trail.  We followed his claw marks and cornered him in a blind alley.  His tongue snapped in and out.

“Watch out!” Q called, but it was too late.  His tongue reached out and grabbed my weapon.  Before he could use it, Q fired several times.  Pinkish, stinking body fluids covered the ground.

“The old ways are the best,” he said.  We called alien disposal and drove back to Headquarters.


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## Fin (Sep 7, 2014)

*A First Time For Everything

by

Kepharel

*


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## Ibb (Sep 8, 2014)

*Spacebound (650 Words) / Language and Themes*

The first time it happened I’d been sneaking out to the garage, because that was where Joey hid his Playboys. Sometimes he’d catch me. I’d hear a click, find myself in a cone of light, and from the window he’d hiss, “Don’t touch my magazines, faggot,” before throwing something at me, an old soda bottle or a pair of my shoes. When his friends visited he’d throw things at me anyway, regardless of what I was doing, and they would laugh along with him while watching or join in at his encouragement. The only time I was safe was when he had Allison over. He didn’t care about me then. He’d kick me from the room, and if I put my ear to the door I would hear them humping: Allison’s breaths, Joey’s grunts, both of them just quiet enough not to wake Mom, snoring in front of the little TV downstairs. 

 That’s why the light had confused me. Allison was over that night. I’d tensed up, anticipating a blow to the head. I’d waited for Joey’s voice, or Allison’s giggle, or something or anything. All the while waiting my legs and arms going soft. Then, my face suddenly burning, I’d turned around to the window. But the window was closed. By then I was already off the ground; then level with the window; above the window and above our roof; above the neighborhood; then.

                They were like little murmuring shadows. They poured warm liquids over my eyes; laid me on tables; murmured amongst themselves and appeared then disappeared. They touched me with the tips of their fingers, gently pressing my skin like I was a fruit. It was always peaceful. I’ve seen documentaries about abductees claiming they were tortured, or mated with, or given strange drugs. I never felt any of this. It became the only place I was ever happy. I would wait outdoors, resting against a tree, and would close my eyes, counting down to the minute. When I opened them again I would look up into the dark and see a white sliver of light. 

                I never told Joey or Mom about it. Joey would’ve laughed, and Mom only ever listened to him, anyway. Joey was her favorite. He was everybody’s. If I tried to say anything she just nodded, looking someplace else. I didn’t look the way he did. At school he pretended not to know me, and even though everyone knew we were related no one ever acted like it. I ended up telling Emily Sykes, who sat next to me in biology. 

                “So what’s it like?” she’d asked.

                I told her everything. I promised that she could come with me, that we could wait for it together, and this had made her laugh, and I’d started blushing before laughing, too. 

                “What about your brother?” she whispered. 

                I’d stopped laughing. “What about him?”

                “Do they take him, too?”

                “No,” I said. “They don’t care about him.”

                I’d come home late one evening because I’d taken money out of Mom’s purse to buy pizza and soda at the corner store. She’d been knocked out by one of her sleeping pills and Joey had been upstairs, talking to someone on the phone. I’d spent most of my time lounging in the park afterward, not wanting to leave, watching the clouds for spaceships. When night fell I walked home.  

                Emily sat on my bed; Joey sat across from her. I said nothing to either of them. They said nothing. Emily wouldn’t look at me. After a while Joey said, “You should go.” 

                “Why?”

                He gave me a look. “Because I said so.”

                I didn’t press my ear to the door. I stumbled back to the park, falling against the first tree I found, closing my eyes and swallowing my breaths, killing Joey a thousand times. I waited. But when I opened my eyes there was only dark.


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## Miles-Kirk (Sep 8, 2014)

*Fun Leads to Folly (Mild sexual references and sexual abuse content)*

649 Words

Joan was leaving the firm, everyone had gathered at Harry’s bar down town in London to say their farewells and good wishes._ I am a fool, she’s screwing my husband and I’m saying ‘good luck’_.  The night started off slow and sophisticated, but it grew wildly out of control. My blouse was torn open and rolls of twenties were stuffed down my knickers as I stumbled out of the bar. _About time I had some fun_. I staggered blindly down an alleyway that connected Ironmonger to Old Drewry.  My hand flew to my mouth as my stomach retched violently, bile gargled up my throat, and spittle leaked from the cracks. I closed my eyes and focused, settling the sick that yearned to surge out. I gasped and took huge deep breaths. each exhale forming in the bitter wind. I leant against the wall, one hand against the cool, rough brick as the other caressed my temples. _Damn migraines. _

My vision was clouded and I could feel all the strength draining from my body as the atrophy took over. I fell to one knee, the hand on the wall slid down as I dropped. The harsh grit texture of the stone left my palms covered in grazes. The other hand clutched my stomach as I heaved, the stench wafted through the air as the tepid vile liquid soaked into my Dolche & Gabana maxi dress, and leaked onto the floor in splatters. I heard footsteps approach and reached out my hand, gingerly seeking assistance as I tried to stand. My right heel broke, sending me crashing back to the cold, dirty concrete. I lifted my head as a black mass swiftly careered towards my head, defenceless, I winced in preparation.

I awoke strapped to a table, I turned my head to the left and my cheek was met with a steel’s kiss. My eyes adjusted to the bright, illuminating light that filled the bare room. There was little I could see, mostly blurred shapes, but four white walls and the table I was manacled to were apparent. A panel behind me opened up, I arched and threw my head back, blowing strands of auburn hair away from my eyes. They entered, strolling through in droves. They encircled me. I screamed and thrashed as the bindings cut into my pale skin.

They reached below and extended cords from their own bodies, I lost count as each was thrust into me without warning. I yelped and writhed in pain, their unwarranted intrusion caused tears to stream down uncontrollably and drench my face. I could catch whispers, unintelligible words floating above the madness. Seeking answers, I flailed my arms grasping for attention. I received another blow to the face, the black flesh seared my cheeks with fresh bruises.

It was over. Only one stood in front of me, projecting a hologram image, which pulsated and twitched. I felt a pang of movement from my abdomen. Terror overwhelmed me, tears dampened my bare breasts. The deformity in front of me crawled forward, it lay its hand across my stomach and searched for a word, flexing its tongue and grating his jaws as it meandered towards the exit.

It uttered, “Con-grat-ula-tions,” in short jitters. I followed the creature with numb, lifeless eyes as the door hissed, locking in place. I looked up above, the light glared into my retinas. Dismayed, I lingered upon the image that I would soon birth. I lingered perhaps too long, the image began to mutate.  Spikes erupted from its cranium, and fingers became tendrils. _I am a victim of some barbaric alien mating ritual_. My fingernails gouged into my flesh in desperation, drawing blood.

As I struggled against the prison that condemned me, I had missed, in my strife, the words imprinted onto the wall. Words that in one foul swoop destroyed my remaining humanity. ‘Orri Research Facility’, my Father’s company.


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## InstituteMan (Sep 9, 2014)

Financial District Alien Pornography

645 words, many of them profane and/or sexual


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## Fivetide (Sep 9, 2014)

*The big day*

_626, Not a single naughty word in it._

He knelt on all fours, examining the blotchy purple sack hanging under the branch.
A crowd of young males had gathered above him on the overhang, their excitement was palpable and he felt the weight of their expectations on his shoulders.
He tentatively prodded the wriggling container with his favourite tentacle, it replied with a sharp squeak and gentle gurgle.
The gesture triggered a murmur of childish banter from the onlookers.
He chose to ignore it. Turning his head to look down his red fur lined back, he lined up the lake with his rear. 
Mental calculations flashed through his mind, distance, wind speed and trajectory were all considered. 
The sharp stones were beginning to hurt his knees, so he quickly made a final adjustment. 
Now he felt prepared for his big day, something he’d been looking forward to ever since he’d seen his own sack appear.
A voice in his mind reminded him of the possible consequences of his actions and that he could still pull out, it wasn’t too late.
The juvenile stared at the pouch and gave a last glance over his shoulder, now or never, he thought.
He’d practised the next part over and over in the solitude of his dark cave, aided by some loose cave drawings he’d found under his father’s litter.
The tentacle flicked out, perfectly prodding the bags centre, causing it to instantly wrinkle with a single contraction. 
Pop! And out shot a small red sphere, the sun sparkling on its surface. It flew in a perfect arc and he caught it in the open receptacle on his back.
Applause broke out amongst the crowd.
Internal muscles now reacted in a reflex movement, the egg covered with his DNA blasted from the rear exit, like a bullet towards the centre of the lakes green, soup like liquid.
He sprang onto all four feet and bolted along the gravel towards the first obstacle, an enormous cheer rose from the gallery.
He kept as much distance between the shoreline and his straining body as he could.
With an audible hummfff, he lept the first hurdle then darted into the small tunnel. 
Something behind him at the entrance made a loud crack and he felt wetness on his hind quarters. 
Instinct forced down his panic and spurred him on to greater exertions. 
Again a whooping jeer came from his stable mates now whipped into an adolescent frenzy. 
A branch shattered above his head as he ducked under a large spiky log.
Halfway he thought, just keep focused.
The rhythm of his two hearts beating in tandem vibrated through his torso as he emerged from the second tunnel.
A sharp pain rifled through his rump causing his back legs to buckle, he recovered fast and continued the head long dash.
Come on, come on, he urged himself, last tunnel.. nearly there!.
He squeezed into the narrow entrance and rapidly exited for the last time, a feeling of sheer ecstasy washed over him as he spied the final hurdle.
All I have to do now is avoid the Kudelrush snares and I’m free!
The lakes surface suddenly exploded at his side, his momentum was instantly halted, and something gripped his front hoof like a vice.
Groans and swearing erupted from his friends as they whiteness his dilemma.
He felt a tremendous force upon his body, then weightlessness and the sight of the red sun quickly rotating around him.
The spinning stopped as his accent skywards slowed to a halt, then he began to plummet towards the tepid green lake.
As he fell, a circular row of razor sharp teeth easily wide enough to swallow him whole, appeared from under the surface.
Bugger he thought, then yelled down, “too quick sweet heart?”


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## shinyford (Sep 10, 2014)

*Spede, Dating* by Nic Ford (649 words)


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## garza (Sep 10, 2014)

*The Milkshake Date* (650 words)

'The extra large vanilla milkshake made a 'glop' sound as it slid from the inverted cup and landed in Peggy's lap. Her screams echoed around the car park at Harbour View Drive-In. Heads turned. 

'You idiot!' she screamed. More heads turned. 'You've ruined my new dress!' 

She held up her own cup. 'Here. Try this trick on for size.' She poured her large strawberry shake on Nicholas' head.

Peggy opened her door and climbed out of the car, dumping the extra large vanilla shake from her lap onto the asphalt of the car park.

'Please, somebody. I need a ride home,' she said. 

More offers than were needed came from the circle of boys gathered around her.  

The sloppy ending of Nicholas Christovich's first date with a Gulfport girl can be traced to a conversation Nicki had a week earlier with Brian McKenzie. You need to know that Nicki was from Biloxi and Briney was from Gulfport. Biloxi boys don't date Gulfport girls. They don't dare. The reverse is true. Physical retaliation inspired by cultural alienation can be the result. That alienation has existed for generations between the towns. 

Gulfport and Biloxi had taken part in a regional high school debate tournament held on the campus of the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg. That's 70 miles from the Coast and considered neutral territory. Debate teams tend to be physically less aggressive than athletic teams, and with faculty advisors and students from a dozen other high schools present for the tournament the organisers saw no need for extra security. Nicki was first affirmative for Biloxi and Peggy Stuart first negative for Gulfport in a third round match. Nicki was smitten; smitten so hard he broke an ancient taboo and during a break asked Peggy for a date. When she said 'yes', Nicki looked for someone to give him pointers on how to impress a Gulfport girl. 

He found Briney.

'If you really want to score with a Gulfport girl,' Briney said, 'you can't beat the milkshake trick. It's a great way to show how cool you are on a first date. You're going to a movie, right?'

'Right,' Nicki said.

'After the movie take her to Harbour View Drive-in for a milkshake.' 

'Where's that?'

'By the harbour. Order the extra large vanilla shake for yourself. Extra large cups have ridges inside. The vanilla shakes are super thick and ice cold. When it's first brought out you can turn the cup upside down and not a drop will spill. Tell her you know a neat trick, turn the cup upside down over her lap, and then turn it back up. She'll squeal when she thinks she's going to have a milkshake dumped in her lap, then laugh at your clever trick. You have to be fast, though. If you wait, it will start to melt. And you need to have some explanation ready, maybe some physics nonsense about liquid cohesion or something, and she'll think you're really smart. You'll be a big hit with her, and what happens after that is up to you.'

What happened 'after that' was a get-together the next night over burgers, fries, and extra large vanilla shakes inside the Harbour View Drive-in. Briney, along with friends Steve and Bobby, met for a post-mortem examination of Nicki's efforts to date a Gulfport girl. 

'Brilliant,' Steve said. 'Abso-damned-lutely brilliant. We won't see that cheeky Czech around here again.'

'Briney, you most certainly are a genius,' Bobby said. 'What made you think of the milkshake trick, and how did you know it wouldn't work?'

'My first thought was to beat him up. Then I remembered seeing the milkshake trick fail when the car hop was slow. So last night I slipped Bertha five bucks to take her time.'

'You must apologise to Peggy,' Steve said.

'Taken care of, and I'm been adequately forgiven,' Briney said, and laughed.


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## Bishop (Sep 12, 2014)

*No Different* By Patrick Bishop (650 words)


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## EmmaSohan (Sep 12, 2014)

WHAT IF?
by Emma Sohan
(some sex. Duh.)


"Do you, Xtaren, accept Yurla as your wife, today and forever?"

"I do." She's beautiful. She's wonderful. I love her. I want her to be so happy.

"Do you, Yurla, accept Xtaren as your husband, today and forever?"

She gives me one of her big smiles. "I do."

"You may go to the connecting room."

I feel her soft hand in mine as we leave. She's so eager. I feel like the luckiest guy on Draltha. The guests start to eat and the band begins playing some music, because no one knows how long we'll take. Right now I feel like staying in that room with Yurla forever.

We lie on the bed and kiss. Like we've done so many times before. Our hands roam, our clothes come off, and we excite each other. Like we've done so many times before. Finally, I look at her. "Are you ready?"

"Holy Mother _yes_."

I slowly enter her for the first time. Our bodies slide together, exciting each other more and more. Finally, I ejaculate into her.

And we connect.

Her eyes pop wide open, she screams with pleasure, and she starts thrashing. My body is filled with a new wave of her pleasure.

"Gods, Xtaren, do you always feel like that when you orgasm?"

"I guess."

"Well, Mr. Huge Sexual Organ, that was _incredible_. No one told me. Nice wedding present!"

"I felt your orgasm after mine. It was pure pleasure."

"Yeah."

I softly caress her cheek and feel my touch. Her skin is so sensitive. "Let's stay in this room all night."

"Xtaren, you are so silly." She starts to get dressed, so I do too. It's a little confusing because I can feel her clothes going on her.

I feel her small soft hand in mine and my larger hand covering hers as we walk back to the wedding. When we enter, all eyes turn to us. I indicate to my parents that we connected -- not all couples can -- and my mother starts crying with happiness. My father tries to wipe a tear off his dry face.

For the next step of the ceremony, we can't see each other. I'm with my father and Yurla's father. My father shakes my hand. Yurla shouts, "Someone is grabbing his hand. Shaking it?" Everyone claps.

I feel two taps on my right shoulder. "Two taps to Yurla's right shoulder." Everyone claps, telling me I was right. But I already knew.

Yurla's father pinches my arm surprisingly hard. Yurla shouts. "Ouch. That hurt! What sadistic pervert thought of _that _test?" Everyone laughs.

I feel something. I shout out, "Something on her cheek. Soft, lasted about 2 seconds." Everyone claps. Then I realize what it was and say softly to my father, "Mom kissed her. This is awesome."

My father smiles. "Yeah," is all he can say. He already knows. My father shouts, "A kiss?" More clapping.

Now everyone knows we're connected. We walk back to the center of the room to finish our ceremony, and Yurla gives me such a big smile that my cheeks hurt. I'll always know what her skin is feeling, and I'll feel her pleasure -- and her pain -- for the rest of our lives. And she'll feel everything that happens to my skin; I'll never be alone.

Later that night, I'm talking to my uncle when I feel someone tapping on my forearm. I look down -- but it's nothing.

Oh, right, stupid me. I see Yurla across the room, smiling at me. Then she looks down and starts writing with her finger on her bare arm. I pretend like I'm listening to my uncle, but I'm not. I feel the letter I on my arm. Then the letter L. And then, slowly,

O

V

E

Y

O

U


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## InkwellMachine (Sep 15, 2014)

*Concerning What Goes On Inside Playhouses
**(635 words)*

I held the wrapper between my sticky fingers, trying to figure out what possessed me to spend three whole dollars on an ice cream sandwich. When I first saw the Hispanic woman pushing her ice cream trolley down the sidewalk toward me, I knew what was going to happen: She was going to stop in front of me and say, in rehearsed English, “Ice cream?” and I was going to shake my head. That’s the way you do things when you grow up—you stop wasting your money on every ridiculous whim. You learn to say _no_.

It was a damn good sandwich, though. Maybe the first ice cream bar I’d had in a year. Maybe two. So I leaned back, licked my chocolate-browned lips, and decided that it would just have to be alright. Money was a little tight, but three dollars wouldn’t be the end of the world. If I really needed to make it up, I could walk to work for a few days instead of taking the bus.

I scanned the playground across the lawn from where I was sitting and found Daniel swinging back and forth across the monkey bars like his little life depended on it. On the platform where the monkey bars connected to the rest of the play set there stood a girl no more than a year older than him, watching.

At first I figured it was some kind of weird game—a competition, maybe. Then I realized that she was counting, and that the fiercely determined look on Daniel’s face was familiar. It was the look of a small caught up in something very serious. He was trying to impress her.

I’m not sure why, but at that moment I was overcome with a strange sense of fatherly pride. Daniel had been spending more time with his mother lately, and the two of us weren’t half as close as I would have liked. He was too young for me to identify with, and his mother had him hooked on a dozen hobbies that I couldn’t share his interest in, like watching televised sports and being a perfect student. Still, something about watching his adolescent attempts to woo a girl his age—maybe for the first time—made me feel close. It could have been some primal thing, like a confirmation that we do in fact have some base, psychological similarities. A libido, for instance. Maybe that was it.

After what was probably his tenth round on the bars, he dropped onto the platform beside the girl and threw his hands in the air triumphantly. She laughed and held her hands up in the air too. And then something strange happened. The two of them checked around the playground, I guess to see who was watching. I told Daniel I was going to take a quick stroll around the park while he played. He must have thought I was still gone, because he didn’t seem to be able to find me in my new spot.

As stealthily as one can possibly move through a playground in broad daylight, the two of them made their way through the play set to the colorful plastic house on the other side. Once inside, they closed up the big red front door, and the big green shutters.

Whatever pride I’d been feeling melted away, leaving me in a state of utter consternation. I knew what I thought was happening, but it couldn’t _actually_ be that way. They were kids. Kids weren’t supposed to be that way. Were they?

For thirty seconds I watched the outside of that plastic house, feeling very old, and very detached, and wondering if I’d ever been that way as I child.

“Daniel,” I finally called. My voice cracked. “Uh, come here. I need a word.”


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