This was a really fun one for me to write. It’s super short, but I was giggling out loud at Starbucks as I typed it up. It’s good shit.
Prompt: A young cyclops works up the courage to flirt with a beautiful mermaid.
Taylah Morgan © 2017
CYCLOPS IN LOVE
Guessing the size of a woman’s chest is really hard work. Especially with monocular vision.
If I get her the large-sized shell brassiere and her nipples only reach to the mid of my palm, she may think my eyes disillusioned, my opinion of her lacking. But the tiny brazier would hint to yearnings of pebble-sized tits and unshaven pelvises. My desires, no different than those Talian Dolphins—the pedophiles of the sea.
It’s hard being a one-eyed Milky Cyclops. I am purple-helmeted underwater Spartan of Love who has been claimed from balls to head by the most beautiful mermaid in all the seas. All I want is to tell my lady love how my albino asparagus ripens at the attention of her creamy, strawberry-shortcake skin. How I yearn to gaze upon her snake-scaled fin with my large bulbous eye and slither between the taut mounds of her gilled breasts.
Just the thought of my forever love’s webbed face gleaming in glee makes me giddy and sprung like sticky sap atop Morning Wood.
That is why this gift must be perfect, it must be the wooden spear to strike her unawares and garner her attention, because not only is it a confession of my hymen-hammering intentions, but it also represents the shells of my love which shall lie forever next to her heart.
I purchase the large-sized shelled brassiere.
If her slime-covered flesh doesn’t fill it, I’ll feed her the spoils of my clam digging until she grows plump from my affections.
Prompt: Finding solace in an airport bathroom.
I never should have watched that Netflix special on the hidden cruelty of airport security.
“Ma’am, this isn’t jail, you can keep your clothes on.” The balding one with a frown declared.
I had already stripped down to my Winx Club underwear and fuchsia bra – which I had just started to unclip. “Never!” I screamed, throwing the bra onto his shiny bald head like a horseshoe. “I know what you did to that poor man! I will not go behind that closed door with you and be manipulated into unwanted sex acts! If you want to pat me down, let all witness your evil ways.”
Moving my fingers to the hem of my underwear, I started hopping as the too-small cotton panties caught on my nubby knees, when, out of nowhere I was tackled by a large woman named Steve.
Writing Prompt: Unusual weapon.
This one’s a bit dark.
I’ve never seen a crayon used as a weapon before. Crayons meant laughing while coloring, cute animals, large rainbows, happiness, imagination – things, I used to miss. Seeing it used as a weapon tainted everything it used to represent.
My mother was MacGyver-like in her creativity. She didn’t even think twice when he pulled up. Inviting him in with baking powder smeared on her face and an infectious smile as he walked through the door. After the door was shut and locked her elbow connected with his nose and down he went.
I belong to a writing group and sometimes we do inspiration exercises. This week’s inspiration exercise involved choosing prompts from a large top hat writing straight for fifteen minutes. I’m not sure I’ll ever do anything with these, but they sure are fun.
My prompts for today: 80 Year Lady has a Vitamin Reaction and Powerful Pussy
I traded my virginity for a cold bottle of water and a bowl of polenta. Unfortunately, I wasn’t a virgin.
As I slip the cool hard egg between my legs and squeeze, I think about my Grandma C. Is it weird to think of a family member while tightening your vagina?