Click here to remove commentary
As I sat there in the warm wetness of the pool, I felt like maybe I knew what it was like to be the shaft seated within the warm wetness of a woman’s tubes.
“Go on, introduce your beloved guest into my lady garden!” I whimper with my ripe talk circle.
All the men were hard, all the women were wet, and at that moment, Brett was thrilled to be bisexual.
Our love could start a war, she Vagrilo Princip and I Glanz Ferdinand.
I was on a fast train to Boner-town the picosecond I glimpsed her gazongas.
Behold Lucia! Her delicious tits were the bee’s knees.
Stroking the enviable keyboard with all of their hands, the female hackers’ curvaceous outlines seemed endless: like C-like “for” loops with no second arguments.
Yessica Miller (Arch-Private, newly enlisted) stood naked in the med-scanner while its cold gaze hungrily swept her. “I see we have one of our more fully-figured recruits,” the scanner intoned.
Like most women, Rose began life as a fetus, not knowing she would bloom into a beautiful, young flower of a girl.
Marilyn Kingsley, whose nationality could only be described as “vaguely Armenian and about one-third Mesoamerican,” was unfairly rich, not only in Aztec gold but also in Caucasian beauty.
Here’s one that took many of the principles of the winning entry but took the character in a different direction:
Hannah was quite rich, but unlike the majority of the upper class, she was also rich in kindness.
Zoseph Misawa gazed into the holo-mirror. He was a dark-haired man who looked Caucasian but wasn’t really because this was the future and races aren’t the same as they are now.
“Your life matters!” I cried in solidarity, tenderly hugging the POC.
This story is so woke I’m going to let you, dear reader, choose whichever race/ethnicity/etc you want these characters to be.
Before Brayden even realized it, the racial slur had already escaped his edgy mouth. The obnoxious child cried at everyone not to “hit report”, but there was no evading this permaban.
“You’re in trouble, mi amigo,” said the alcalde, which means mayor in Spanish, to the criminal.
Dusk was setting in over Dresden, as Uwe looked up to see a string of star-spangled B-29 bombers rise above the sundown lit horizon. “Oh no,” he muttered from under his breath in German.
She told me “Watashi wa mae ni anata ni atta koto ga arimasen. Anata wa hijō ni hansamudesu” (I haven’t met you before. You are very handsome.), and my face lit up like the sun that is our homeland.
THE FULL TEXT OF THE CONSTITUTION OF THE FEDERATIVE REPUBLIC OF MARS (Plot starts on page 27):
One day, Eugene Evans came home from his job at AstroSpace, Inc., and sat down on his chrome living-room couch, munching on a hydrolyzed protein nutrition bar.
But as long as I’m giving out imaginary prizes, and having randomly dropped the winner into the middle of the list a few entries ago, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to unveil this year’s other finalists:
The chess master at the park was in full combat mode, making his moves faster than even Albert Einstein ever could.
Cripes! I yelled. I couldn’t stop saying it. Cripes! Cripes! She was dead.
Speaking of word choice:
In 1706, in the depths of winter, Benjamin Franklin, from his mother, Abiah Folger, was extruded.
Megan realised her marriage was dead the year she lost her mother to a long illness, which had ravaged the latter as Megan’s husband had ravaged the former, early in their marriage.
I feel sad. Out of my amethyst orbs poured the new glass orbs hitting my petite lover’s golden, luscious, beautiful forehead as I weep.
“Ouch!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, filling the scenery with a scream that I did due to pain.
She, Annabelle, gave an unreserved wail, “I hate stupid wishing wells and other deception items!”
Oogor Orkson let out a curdling hell scream and plunged his rigid warpick deep into elven flesh; this was not an Age for soft long-ears, but hard green men.
Once upon a time, it was 1:30 p.m. on a Tuesday.
Richard Dawkins looked on in astonishment as the wine and the bread transsubstantiated.
Joan took in the scene before her as her heart took in more blood than usual.
Hiya! Ugh! Keeaih! These are the sounds that are heard every day in Spike and Blade’s ninja training. Backflips would be heard too, but for their silence.
I can’t help but wail as the sirens do; loud.
My feet ached but my new trainers still looked sharp and so did my murder knife. Both were red.
My knife penetrated her flesh again and again and again and again, blood falling to the floor like a heavy flow month without feminine hygiene products.
It was a beautiful sunrise, but Brian was not happy at all. This morning was a mystery; all of his chickens have disappeared and his rooster was not alive; he did not sing this morning as he used to.
I guess that’s not a terrible segue to teen drama:
Sarah felt distinctly apart from the other children at her lunch table, silent as they passed their cellphones back and forth, memeing and loling amongst themselves.
Moving on to family drama:
They say to write what you know, so this one’s about my mom :)
He couldn’t choose a favorite child between the apple and orange of his loins.
Having brought up Trump, I guess I have no choice but to move on to horror:
Inasmuch as I was driven insane by the horrors which follow, my descriptions of them will often devolve into mad cackling (ex. “hahahahaha”).
“One such as you cannot know what grief truly is to a vampyre,” Viktor whispered breathlessly, “but perhaps if I bare my soul you will grasp some piece.”
Moving from those who have written a million words to those who have written a billion:
This is my story, me telling it before the talented writer Stephen King—writer of the 1996 classic The Regulators—can beat me to it.
Victoria Di Palma
Magical though her school bus may have been, no amount of that selfsame magic could save Ms. Frizzle’s marriage.
Speaking of things from after my time: every year there are multiple entries that attempt to cash in on the latest linguistic craze, and this year was no exception. People entered a bunch of sentences along the following lines, but this was the most straightforward:
This is the tale of a yeeted heart.
As he turned his gaze toward the water, he winced—she used to love water.
It is the things we love (like oxygen) that kill us (because it corrodes our DNA)—and she was the oxygen I breathe.
Robot. Steel. Love. Tears. Ronnie (a robot) cried as his master ordered him to kill his love, who was also a robot.
Keith scoffed as he tossed aside another tawdry, dime-a-dozen romance novel. It was clear that none of these so-called authors had ever experienced anything close to actual true love. Not like he had.
Jeremy Hall Spence
Ethan, a full head and shoulders above the gaggle of bridesmaids, bisected the bright sunlight on the sharp angles of his face.
Taron stared at his disgusting eggy bald head in the ovular silver disk on the wall.
“Why learn 7th-grade English when I could be looking at Jason Usher’s dark, green mysterious eyes?”
Young, nubile Vanessa, having been raised in the church, was proud of her purity. But she took one look at James and thought, “I think I’m ready to try sex.”