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Weekly Short Story Contests > Week 413 (May 31-June 6) Stories Topic: Humid

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message 1: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments You have until the 6th of June to post a story and from the 7th to around the 11th of June, we’ll vote for which one we thought was best!

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group. Only one submission per person is allowed.

Your story should be between 300 and 3,500 words long.

REMEMBER! A short story is not merely a scene. It must have a beginning, a middle, and an end.

This week’s topic is: Humid

The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.

Most of all have fun!


message 2: by Garrison (new)

Garrison Kelly (cybador) | 9613 comments AUTHOR: Garrison Kelly
TITLE: Beautiful Monster, Chapter 16
GENRE: Dark Fantasy
WORD COUNT: 1,392
RATING: R for language and suggestive dialogue



“Cock-a-doodle-do, motherfucker. Or as your girlfriend likes to say, any cock will do.” Rinehart’s grating voice jolted Windham awake and caused him to thrash around in his new bindings. The initial rage didn’t wear off for a while, but he eventually got exhausted enough to calm down and take in his new surroundings. His wrists and ankles were strapped to a wooden chair while his mouth still had the drool-covered cloth gag stuffing it shut. He tried in vain to speak his mind, but all that came out were a series of angry M’s.

Standing in front of him in a darkened room only lit by torches were an arrogantly smiling Rinehart flanked by the two Jamokes (one of whom had his nose stapled to his skull) and Christian’s brother Kody. They all had their arms folded and they all looked down upon the helpless Windham like he was the lowest form of pond scum.

“It’s funny,” said Rinehart. “I don’t remember the weather being this humid, and yet here is this fucking faggot elf sweating bullets. It must be all the romantic tension in the air.” As Kody and the Jamokes laughed, Windham tossed and turned some more to no avail. He hoped the sweat drooling from his pores would make his limbs slick enough to pull out of the leather straps. Hope in one hand, shit in the other.

Rinehart leaned in nose-to-nose with Windham and stared into those angry eyes with vicious pupils of his own. “I bet you’re wondering why I even have you here in the first place. Well, you kind of stormed off earlier in the day without letting me give you a proper briefing, so I thought I’d do the nice thing and explain myself before Kody here gives you the ass beating on a lifetime. It’s the least I could do.”

Windham once again tried to speak through his gag, but Rinehart shushed him and put his sausage finger over his lips. He said, “You can’t form a reasonable sentence with just the letter M, so you might as well shut the fuck up and let me finish. When last we left you, you went on a little reconnaissance mission up north to take a few notes. But in reality, we already knew what the fuck was up there, which was why we sent you there in the first place.”

The elf sweated even harder, feeling the heat even after wearing little more than red leather pants. Rinehart explained, “You see, Windham, the whole reconnaissance mission was a cover up for something bigger and better, a test to see just how much of a man you really are. You failed that test big time when you burned down Shelly’s castle. Shelly and Torger had a huge fucking price on their heads, so in exchange for their freedom, they get to show some of our men a good time. Every guy I sent up there came home with balls bigger than their heads. You? You came home crying like a bitch in your girlfriend’s arms. I don’t put up with faggot shit in my army, do you understand?”

Rinehart had the decency to remove Windham’s gag and it turned out the elf had a lot to say about this revelation. “You made a deal?” he whispered with seething rage. “You made a deal with that rapist? You made a deal?!” The last rhetorical question was complimented with even more thrashes of resistance, only to be shut down by Rinehart clutching the elf’s jaw with a vice grip.

“If you had any testosterone in your body at all, you wouldn’t bitch and gripe about something that isn’t there,” snarled Rinehart. “Sex is supposed to be fun! Sex is supposed to be enjoyable! I admit, Shelly and Torger are into some kinky, painful shit, but it doesn’t really take away from the fun, does it? Just ask Kody over there. In fact, ask anybody who’s been on the recon mission before you. Shelly’s like the village bicycle: everybody’s had a ride! And you had to ruin it for future prospects, didn’t you!”

Windham tried to bite down on Rinehart’s palm, but the Commander jerked it away just in time. After a few more growls of hungry vitriol, the elf asked, “Where’s Tarja?! If I find out you hurt her, I’m going to leap out of this chair and…”

“You ain’t leaping out of anything, you nancy boy motherfucker!” snapped Rinehart. “And even if you did, we don’t know where the fuck that bitch is! She could be anywhere! But make no mistake about it, Windham: when we find her, we’re going to make her pay double the price, one for throwing Christian through a window and two for corrupting that soft, weak ass mind of yours. It’s a shame. You were once regarded as the best fighter in this whole group. But those fighting skills don’t mean shit without toughness. And the way I see it, you ain’t got what it takes anymore!”

Windham continued to twist and jerk around, but the leather straps ground down on his limbs even tighter, forming ugly shades of purple. Rinehart taunted him some more. “If you want a little more colorful description of what’s going to happen to Tarja once we find her, look no further than the master poet himself, Kody Savage! Take it away, Kodes!”

Rinehart and the two Jamokes vacated the room and left Windham all alone to stare into the hideous visage of Kody Savage, who leaned in closer with psychosis written everywhere. “Oh, what I’m going to do to that crazy bitch…”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” threatened Windham.

“You think that’s the worst thing I have to say about her, jack-off? Huh? Oh, you ain’t heard shit yet.” Kody drooled a little bit and his eyes widened as he started his disturbing oratory. “First…I’m going to force Tarja to suck me off…and then…I’m going to squirt all over her face and give her a milk moustache!”

“You son of a bitch!” shouted Windham as he wailed around some more to no results.

“Oh, you think I’m done? I’m just getting warmed up!” Kody formed his hand into an iron fist and said, “Next…I’m going to take this arm…and JAM it so far up her asshole that she’ll choke on it! She’ll think she’d been fucked by a redwood! I won’t stop fisting her until her sphincter is the size of our double doors!”

Windham’s swearing became less coherent and more drool-induced while he bounced up and down in his bondage. The spittle on his lips formed into a cream-like foam that reminded Kody of a rabid wolverine. Nevertheless, Mr. Savage knew he was in control and continued to ham it up.

“And you want to know what else?” said Kody with a serpentine grin. “I’m going to stick my face between her legs…and eat her slowly…but I’m not talking about cunnilingus, no…I’m actually planning on eating her for lunch…I’ll chew through her walls until I’m dining on that piece of shit she calls a heart! And then…I’ll drink her cum like the finest wine! I might even get drunk off of it, who knows?”

By the time Windham was finished struggling in his bondage, the sweat and foam dripped off of him like a tidal wave of hatred. Exhaustion hit him like a wrecking ball to the gut. He breathed heavily like he was sucking down a tornado of fresh oxygen. But the biggest giveaway for Kody was the little patch of wetness forming in Windham’s eyes. The elf tried to fight at as Kody Savage was easily the least deserving of his tears. His eyes glowed red with puffiness as he resisted the urge.

“What, are you going to cry now? Come on, you big baby! Cry for me! Come on, sweetie pie, cry like a bitch! Waaaaaaaah! Waaaaaaaah! Come on, you big fucking baby, let it all out!” taunted Kody. The rest of his dialogue became a hodgepodge of gibberish as Windham’s mind raced with white hot venom. All the laughter, all the taunting, all the slurs, and the fact that his virginity was sold to a woman he never loved…they all set off a volcano in his veins.

And then, with one more He-Man tug of strength…the bonds came loose.


message 3: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Creature Feature (Helen Singer, Chapter 18,)
Author : Edward Davies
Word Count : 1910
Rating : PG13

Actually seeing the Basilisk full size for the first time was more than a little shocking, to say the least. I thought it would be big, but not this big!

It stood on all fours, its huge, scaly, black form blocking the street lights as it emerged from the rubble it had left in its wake. The back of the police station had basically collapsed in on itself, with the Basilisk raising its dusty head from the rubble to take in its surroundings. Standing up on its four feet, it was easily as tall, if not taller, than the two-storey police station had been prior to being half reduced to crumbling dust. I just stared at the creature, terrified beyond all reason, as I slowly lowered my unconscious mother to the ground.

“Don’t look at it,” Fran warned, snapping me out of my daze.

“What?” I mumbled.

“The Basilisk,” Fran said, “don’t look it directly in the eyes. Remember what it did to your dad.”

That’s right, I thought to myself, the Basilisk had turned my dad to stone! The myth, from what I could remember, said that a Basilsik had the ability to turn people to stone, and a single look would transform us just as easily as the cursed book had transformed Basil Iskander. It would only last until morning, but that was more than long enough for the curse to reach completion and lead to Basil Iskander’s death.

Closing my eyes felt more than a little silly, but I did it anyway. Once they were closed, I turned my head to where I thought Fran was, “What now?” I asked.

“We have to try the sedative,” she replied, her voice coming from a slightly different direction than I’d thought she would be, “have you still got it?”

“I just told you, yes!” I said, a little angry at not being able to see, “I asked you for the syringe, remember?”

“That’s right,” Fran sounded like she was smiling, “I’ll throw it to you. Catch!”

“What?” I panicked when Fran shouted catch, not sure whether to open my eyes and catch the syringe or keep them closed and hope for the best while avoiding catching sight of the Basilisk’s stone-making stare.

I don’t know if any decision I could have made would have been the right one; keeping my eyes closed definitely wouldn’t have helped, but that wasn’t the option I chose. Instead I half opened my eyes, seeing the poorly thrown syringe spiralling through the air vaguely in my direction. The throw wasn’t the best – I’d never expected Fran to be good at throwing; even in the short time I’d known her I knew she wasn’t the sporty type, but even so I should have easily caught it. Sadly, I’d opened my eyes a little too late and, coupled with the fact I was worried I might lock eyes with The Basilisk, I wasn’t exactly concentrating properly. Before I knew it the syringe had landed about four feet to my left and shattered on the ground.

“Fran!” I hissed, “What the hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Fran apologised, “I thought you’d catch it – you’re supposed to have these super powers, aren’t you?”

“It doesn’t mean I can catch a rubbish throw with my eyes closed,” I retorted, “I hope you’ve got another syringe.”

Fran shook her head, “That was the only one I picked up.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to throw it?” I asked, feeling an eerie sense of role reversal between Fran and myself.

“Sorry,” Fran blushed, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Brilliant,” I sighed, “so now what are we supposed to do without a syringe to administer the sedative?”

“You’ll have to get the sedative into him some other way,” Fran said, still trying to keep her eyes closed.

“Like how?” I asked, secretly suspecting what she might be suggesting but not wanting to put it into words. It was Fran’s fault we didn’t have a syringe, so she could be the one to come out and say it.

“Well, you’ve got to get it into him somehow,” Fran advised as we heard the Basilisk moving around in the rubble of what was left of the police stations cells, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

I still can’t believe she didn’t just come out and say it! What a chicken!

I felt for the vial in my pocket, knowing it was still there, and began what felt like a marathon walk towards the Basilisk which was still emerging from the devastation that surrounded it. I couldn’t see its head at that point, so I didn’t see any reason to close my eyes, which did make the walk towards the cursed creature a little easier…

…Although it might have been even easier if I hadn’t been able to see any part of the creature in the first place. Sometimes seeing something is definitely worse than not being able to see something – those horror movies with their less is more mentally have definitely gotten it all wrong.

As I drew closer to the beast it seemed to stop moving, taking a break from its chore of releasing itself from the rubble that covered its lower half and head, but then, almost without warning, the creature raised its head into the air, snorting thick grey smoke from its nostrils as it peered into the distance.

I instinctively closed my eyes, not wanting to be caught by the creature’s gaze. What I did see was enough; its pupils large and black, its irises and swirling red whirlpool that seem to draw you in, but thankfully the stare didn’t have enough time to draw me fully into its gaze. With my eyes closed, it was a little unnerving, but I managed well enough.

“What the heck is that?”

The voice that spoke from behind me almost made me open my eyes, which would have been disastrous, but I slowly turned before I looked at who was speaking.

My mum had regained consciousness.

“What the heck is that thing?”my mum said, still sat on the ground, but staring in wide mouthed disbelief at the Basilisk.

“Don’t look at it, mum!” I shouted, but even before the words had finished leaving my mouth, I knew it was too late. My mum inhaled sharply, her skin turning a deathly shade of grey, and within seconds she’d transformed into a statue, her hand still limply outstretched and pointing at the beast, looking like a female version of the Creation of Adam.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew my attention away from my mum, the whole situation was almost enough to make me open my eyes again, but I knew that if I did it would be the end, and I’d wind up just like my mum. I firmly kept them closed, my hand clenching hold of the vial in my pocket. Eventually the footsteps stopped, which was probably even more frightening than the footsteps themselves.

I could feel the beast breathing heavily, my hair moving ever so slightly from where it poked out from under my hat as the creature’s hot, humid breath touched my skin. The Basilisk was leaning over me, I knew that, and it was breathing on me with idle curiosity. I felt something wet touch my cheek, and I’m still not sure if it just a dribble of saliva or if the creature actually licked me, but I took that moment to make my move.

I tentatively reached forward, finding the Basilisk’s mouth and felt for its bottom lip. Swallowing nervously , I pulled gently on the lip then thrust my other hand, holding the vial of sedative, straight into the creatures gaping maw and towards its throat. I flicked my arm upwards once it was inside the creature’s mouth, jabbing the vial into the back of his pallet and smashing the glass. I could feel the liquid – I assume it was the liquid, it could have been some of the Basilisk’s blood from the shards of glass, or it may have just been saliva – dripping over my hands as it tried to cry out, but failed to because my arm was blocking it from making any noise louder than a muffled grunt. As I kept my arm firmly in place, I felt the creature bit down on my arm and I cried out in expected pain, though in hindsight it didn’t actually hurt much more than if somebody had just firmly gripped me by the arm, it was probably just the shook of that initial clamping and chewing. Regardless of the perceived pain, I just moved my hand further into the mouth of the beast.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, I could feel the creature’s toothy grip lessening on my arm, thought I couldn’t tell if this was because the sedative was taking effect or if the beast couldn’t breathe properly because it had a fist rammed down its throat. A few seconds later, the beast fell to its knees, then keeled over sideways, my arm sliding out of its mouth with an almighty pop.

With my arm completely damp and throbbing slightly, I sat down on the ground next to the unconscious Basilisk, breathing heavily and lying down to rest. As I lay there, staring up at the evening sky, Fran stepped into my field of vision.

“Don’t look now,” Fran said, a smile crossing her face, “but I think you did it.”

I couldn’t help it. I looked. And what I saw was Basil Iskander slowly changing back from a Basilisk into himself. I smiled wearily, too tired to say anything.

“What happened?” I heard a voice speaking from somewhere in the distance, and even my weariness couldn’t stop me from sitting up to attention.

“Mum?”

My mum was stood off in the distance near the front of the police station – the part that hadn’t collapsed under the strain of supporting a mythological creature. She was staggering a bit and, slowly, she began to walk towards Fran and I.

“What happened?” she said again, “What happened to the police station?”

Fran looked at me, wide eyed, “Don’t you remember?” she ventured.

“Remember what?” my mum asked, “It looks like a bomb hit the place. Was there an explosion or something?”

“Or something,” I muttered.

My mum then noticed Basil Iskander lying on the ground…

…Did I mention he was naked?

“My God!” my mum said in disbelief, “Why is he naked again? Did he learn nothing, the sick little pervert?”

“I don’t think it was his fault,” I said, trying to stand up, “we think someone tried to set him up?”

“Did someone try to break him out from the cells as well?” my mum asked, nursing her head.

“We think someone was trying to kill him,” Fran said, and I could tell just by looking at her that she had already made up a story to go with the apparent accident, “whoever was taking the children in town was trying to make a scapegoat out of him.”

Fran’s words suddenly made me realise something; Ladon was still missing! My little brother, who we thought had been taken by the Basilisk, was still out there somewhere, along with Tia’s sister and possibly Alfie as well.

And if the Basilisk was responsible, we could only hope that Basil could remember something about his time as the creature, otherwise we might never find any of them.


message 4: by C. J., Cool yet firm like ice (new)

C. J. Scurria (goodreadscomcj_scurria) | 4304 comments In a while I will come back and put up the contest and polls. Stay tuned!


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