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[BrokenSpokes]

“You’re a fucking psychopath, lady. Seek help!” He turned and stormed out of the coffee shop, pushing through a ring of people, most of whom turned to stare at her in a mix of distaste or horror....

I wonder. Am I a psychopath? I mean... What does all this do to a person?



—From my current WIP called The Ring. Hoping to get it done for the Halloween contest.

 

[StillStunned]

The Plot Bunny visited me during my afternoon nap. Nearly 1k words into a story about two people sharing a bunk on a space-going battleship, intimate but never meeting:


One shipday, after five weeks of us sharing our pod, living parallel lives, I returned from my shift. Her scent was there, waiting to embrace me and welcome me back. I stepped inside and stopped. Something was different.

It took me a moment to spot. Markings on the locker by the door, only missed at first because my eyes weren’t focused there. At head-height, impossible to miss. Meant to be seen.

Meant to be read, in fact, I realised on closer inspection. It was a message, written in a clumsy scrawl using pencil – one of the few seemingly endless pieces of equipment on board – and consisting of only a few lines.

Hook by foot end broken. Sharp edge, be careful. Sorry.

 

[NoCa]

This is a bit from the game I am currently working on. Premise: This is a game in a fantasy underground realm where a society of only women is ruled by futa priestess. Men are banned from the realm and heterosexuality is seen as subversive:

"I just don’t understand," I whisper after a short pause. "Miz’ri is a formidable lover. No mortal can hope to compete with her, let alone a jaluk."
Miz’ri rewards my compliment with a caress and a quick kiss.
"I am not sure how to explain it, Elifael," says Laele. "I know what you think. You believe mine is a delusion, a whim, an itch I needed to scratch. After all, we are educated to explore, to delve into our most forbidden fantasies, to push our boundaries, and to appreciate the unconventional and forbidden. Why should this be the sole exception to what is otherwise a universal rule?"
"There is nothing in our dogma that forbids us to fornicate with males," I answer. "But welcoming them as equals or, worse yet, submitting to them? That is wrong."
"Today I gave myself to a man, entirely, completely. It did not feel wrong."
"Maybe not now but…" I stumble on my words as I gather my thoughts. "We are novices on the Path of Perpetual Pleasure. We serve the Queen of Phalli. You stray from Her creed at your peril. Yours and that of your loved ones. That is—"
"Selfish?" I was going to say insane, but she put my thoughts into better words. "Tell me, Elifael. Is it selfish for me to stand, to walk, to breathe air, drink water, eat food? Would you give up any of these things for the glory of House and Matron?"
Without knowing, I have started a fire. It is useless to pour water on a flame that has already grown so hot. It will consume all it touches before it wanes.
"Is it selfish for me to love what I love? To seize the very essence of life, without apology, without remorse? I think not. To embrace the truth of my own desires, to acknowledge the depths of who I am, that is not selfish, it is only natural." Her anger turns to sadness, her fire to tears. "I… cannot live within the confines of this cage that others have built for me. I could survive, yes. But live? Nay. I refuse to be a shadow of what I could be, to live in constant denial of my own needs, my own truth. To make apologies for the beating of my heart or the wetness of my pussy. No, Elifael, it is not selfish. Not more than any other act of self-preservation."

We stare at her as if she were holding a dagger to her own throat.
"I can never be a priestess." She gulps down her darkberry brew with trembling hands and laughs a broken laugh. "What the fuck am I going to do now?"

 

[SkyBubble]

Make it something that delighted you, that you thought was special. I’m suggesting one sentence to a full paragraph, not more. Something that makes you think, ‘I’m kinda OK at this.’

I’ll sit this one out as you’re all gonna be sick of snippets from my WIP before long .

Does awork that's in pending right now qualify?

 

[Zootonius]

I'm writing a sappy romance.

The context is a man who just made a purchase in a jewelry store and is about to leave,

"The man simply smiled, but his eyes lingered on Megan, as if drinking in a beautiful sunset before it disappeared."

 

[ralfster]

Writing female-to-futa TF:

She had not been prepared for how demanding this new part of her could have been. The yearning for that one cathartic moment of release, the severity of the sensation as her body pushed all that frustration and exasperation out in a few blasts of cum, the sheer relief when it was over.

"By all the gods," she said to herself. "No wonder men act like such idiots."

 

[Venefica]

"The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a tired but friendly smile, happy that a fight had been avoided, took their order and returned to the kitchen. The other bikers had gone back to their conversations, though their eyes kept on Charlotte and Jake. The tension in the diner had shifted. The pack of bikers no longer looked on Charlotte as a prey but as new playing comrade. The atmosphere shifted from hostility to curiosity."

 

[APilgrimSquare]

From a cuckquean fetish story I'm working on (any one else have too many WIP?). May never publish it. Feels too much like male wish-fulfillment, but will see!

I sat at the kitchen table, phone forgotten in my hand, watching her wipe down the granite. Yvette wore high-waisted denim shorts with the cuffs rolled, baggy around the waist but clinging where it mattered, hinting at the hidden volumes underneath, her perfect rear. Her white t-shirt was carelessly tucked in, whisper-thin, the outline of her bra straps just barely visible on her back when she leaned her lissome body over the counter tops. I watched her as she worked, marveling and despairing in equal measure at her graceful movements, her fluidity, her unteachable elegance. She looked like she belonged on the runway, proof that the body made the outfits.

 

[iwatchus]

This is from my current WIP, which is still in rough draft form. It is a spin-off story story from my original series, where the main character/narrator is the only new character to me. It is intended to be able to be read as a stand alone story, but the nuances should be clearer to someone who has read the series. I am not even sure this segment will make the final edit, but I like it anyway, so

When we near the table, Audrey says, “Natalie has graciously invited Tim and me to share her bed tonight. All so I don’t have to get dressed and walk back home.”

I watch Tim’s reaction. He is just short of drooling. I kiss Audrey passionately, then walk behind Tim’s chair on the way back to mine. When I am straight behind him, I reach around his muscled bulk, grab his mostly flaccid cock and squeeze it, saying, “I am hoping to become much more familiar with another new friend tonight.”

I let go and walk back to my chair. I am not sure he is short of drooling anymore. And Big Ben is certainly not flaccid now.