Kimmydonn Week 85: Just Right

Kimmydonn
Sunday



Picture 1


Picture 2


Kimmydonn's Choice: Both

Title:

Just Right

I couldn’t believe my agent got me this gig. I wasn’t going to be parading with stiffs in suits today. I was doing a shoot in my dress of choice. Literally. The red satin glistened in the bright lights of the make up table. I’d taken the first steps. My facial hair had never really come in, thank God, and the stylist would make sure my hair was perfect, but I needed to make myself look more feminine before passing myself on. I didn’t want any hiccups. This was Michelle’s debut after all. Good bye, Mike. See you later.

I hadn’t done more than a bit of foundation, trying to lift my cheekbones, when Hunter, my agent, burst in.

“Why aren’t you in the chair yet?”

“I thought I wasn’t due for another hour!” My voice cracked in a most un-feminine way, making me cringe.

“You forgot the time change. I figured. Quick, follow me.” He grabbed the dress while I tied my robe a little tighter over the lingerie I wore beneath. Did I look like a girl or a guy? Would anyone think anything of it?

Hunter noticed me fidgeting. “You look fine, Mich, really. Don’t worry. Here we are.”

He opened the door for me and I burst in, through the rain shower that had started while we drove. He grabbed the dress and dashed after me.

“Ah, Michelle? Have a seat. My name is Amy, and I’ll be taking care of you today.”

She didn’t say anything else. This was working. She slicked my hair back and held it in place with a band while she applied my makeup. It was subtler than I expected, very light shading on my eyes but red lips. It was all I needed; that made the change. I took a relaxing sigh and sat back.

“What? Thought I’d make you ugly?” Amy teased, shaking her head. She went to work on my hair, applying a gel that made it shine even more than before.

“Is that bleaching?” My hair looked paler too, so did my eyes.

“Nope, just enhancing what you’ve got, honey.” She stepped back and turned to her right. “Jessie! She’s ready!” Amy yelled, then she turned back to me. “Just slip into that and Jessie will get you in place. Good luck.”

Amy kissed the top of my head and hurried off, leaving me alone with my red dress. I didn’t waste time, not wanting to get caught in just my panties. That would be embarrassing. With the dress on, I took one more quick look in the mirror, satisfied with the ruse.

As I was guided into the fountain, I thought that at least my cock would be even less noticeable once I was in the cold water.

“That’s it. Just like that. Try not to shiver,” Jessie said with a chuckle. “Wait ... What is that?”

I started to sit up, but she motioned me to lie down again.

“Don’t move, just ... don’t move.” She snapped away, my wide eyes following her as she rounded the fountain, finding different angles.

When she stopped, she sighed. “I think I got it. Why didn’t you tell us you’re a tranny? You’re gorgeous, but we could have played this so differently!” She took her camera to the nearby MacBook, pulling up the reel.

“There, that’s the money shot,” Jessie said, pointing just before four more images floated in front of it. She turned to me. I now wore my robe again over the wet dress. “We’re definitely working together again,” she promised. “Thank you, Michelle.” Her smile was knowing as she lingered on the name.

Alby Mangroves Week 85: The Pyre

Alby Mangroves
Saturday


Picture 1


Picture 2



Alby Mangroves's Choice: Picture 1

Title:
The Pyre

James never thought it would end like this, rent to pieces by yellow-eyed freaks. Separation of limbs is pure agony, but the most excruciating thing is the indignation.

This cannot be happening!

Even as his insides flare and catch like firecrackers, his foremost thoughts are of surprise.

In the cavity of his chest, venom bursts into purple flame, incinerating him from inside out, but still all he can feel is incredulity.

Pieces of his invincible body form his own funeral pyre, and still he can only gasp in shock.

Somehow, the freaks have bested him.

Screaming, he becomes ash.

Burntcore Week 85: Polishing the Unicorn

Burntcore
Thursday


Picture 1


Picture 2


Burntcore's Choice: Both


Title:
Polishing the Unicorn

“Have you been sniffing nail polish again?”

“What are you talking about?” I whirled around in my chair toward my co-conspirator across the thin cubical partition.

“You! You’ve been acting all trippy. Have you been sniffing your nail polish again?”

“You’re an idiot,” I retorted.

“Possibly, but at least I don’t sniff nail polish,” she said calmly, turning back to her workstation.
*I looked down at my fingertips and wiggled them, the nail polish freshly dried. I couldn’t help it. I loved having pretty nails and I couldn’t resist the smell of the polish. I finally got to the point where I could just sniff the polish without getting any of it on my face. That was a bit embarrassing to explain to anyone.

After an hour or so of work with our fingers dancing nimbly over the keys, Marsha turns toward me with an inquisitive expression on her face.

“What do you want, Marsha?” I asked as I finished the TPS report and saved it to print later.

“I’m curious,” she replied.

“About what?”

“About the nail polish thing, sniffing it,” she said as she rolled her chair over into my cube.

“What about it?”

“Well, what happens? Do you see stuff or just get kinda loopy or what?”

“Yeah, I guess I see stuff. It helps my writing.”

“How do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? How do you think? I hallucinate. I have visions, daydreams, you name it.”

“For real?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, for real.”

She tapped her chin a few times as she thought over what I told her.

“What was the last vision daydream thing you had?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes! Very much so.”

I sat back in my chair and tried to decide just how much to tell her. I really didn’t do it that often, but the trips were pretty good. She made it sound like I was sniffing every hour on the hour. I did have to function regularly. Usually, I only pulled out the bottles when I was struggling for creativity. Today wasn’t one of those days, I just couldn’t resist the sparkly polish.

“Well?” Marsha prompted eagerly.

“Unicorns.”

“What?”

“Unicorns. I had a thing about white unicorns.”

“What else?”

“Erm ... the unicorn was talking to me.”

“Well, that’s odd isn’t it, for the unicorn to be talking?” Marsha asked.

“No more odd than a unicorn period.”

“True. Oh, please continue. What did it say to you?”

“Prancer was telling me about his wife.”
“The talking unicorn was telling you about his wife.”

“Yep, his wife’s name was Dancer.”

Marsha looked at me with complete disbelief on her face. “Whatever. You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m serious. Sometimes it’s weird shit like this, unicorns and stuff. Other times, it’s not.” What I didn’t tell Marsha was that the unicorn thing was just a euphemism for sex. Lots of sex. The last time I really sniffed my nail polish, I had the most vivid, visual sex hallucination ever. The guy’s name was Prince –not that Prince— and while he and I were together, he was telling me about his wife, Dana, who was in the room watching us.

Maybe I should've cut back on the polish sniffing.

KekahJ Week 85: Glitter

KekahJ
Wednesday


Picture 1


Picture 2


KekahJ's Choice: Picture 2

Title:
Glitter

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, glancing nervously at the spread of cosmetics on the counter beside her chair.

“Trust me,” he said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. “You’re going to look like a princess.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “It just all seems like...so much.”

He raised one eyebrow. “It is. But we need it. Trust me.” He repeated. “Now turn around and close your eyes.”

She sat patiently for what felt like forever as he hovered over her. She kept her eyes closed the whole time, so it was difficult to know exactly what he was doing, but she felt her skin being brushed and rubbed and poked and prodded. After while, she started to get fidgety.

“Hold still,” he hissed, pulling her chin back to the position he wanted it in. “I’m almost done.”

She sighed but said nothing.

Finally, his hands were still. He was finished.

“Okay, take a look.”

She opened her eyes and turned towards the mirror.

It was like a dream. She saw the girl staring back at her, but she wasn’t sure who it was. It couldn’t be her. How could she, Plain Jane herself, look so ethereal? She reached one hand out tentatively and touched the mirror, almost as if she were afraid the image in front of her wasn’t real.

Her skin sparkled from the glitter that had been brushed over her pale skin. She’d seen glitter makeup before, but never like this. This was amazing. It was as if a million tiny diamonds had been embedded in her skin. She shifted and the glitter caught the movement, sparkling and dancing in the light. It seemed like every inch of her was covered in glitter. It made her skin look almost other-worldly.

She leaned in closer and examined the patchwork of jewels that had been placed around her left eye. She wasn’t sure how they had been affixed to her skin, but she loved the effect they produced.

He was practically hopping up and down with excitement next to her. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s ... perfect,” she whispered.

Destynee Cullen Week 85: All to Just Find Him

Destynee Cullen
Tuesday


Picture 1


Picture 2


Destiny Cullen’s Choice: Picture 2

Title:
All to Just Find Him

I’ve been following him for days now.

I think he knows it too. Just when I think I have him, he is nowhere in sight. Or maybe this forest is getting the best of me. Every tree is starting to look the same and I can’t find where I set camp.

Crunch

I turned my head toward the sound and I saw him. I slowly moved my head for the camera and his lip curled over his teeth and growled a warning. I immediately froze and he slowly walked toward me.

He was inches from my hand and I closed the distance to touch his rough fur on the top of his head.

He jumped away and growled at me again. My blood froze and my stomach dropped. I never thought that I would provoke the wild animal to attack me. But then I never thought I was stupid enough to touch a wolf.

I reached for my camera once more before he decided to run away or attack me. He growled louder and snapped at me but I put the camera to my eye and held down the capture button.

All I saw was black.

The cap was on and all I took a picture of was black. I rushed to take it off and take a picture of him but he was gone by the time I took the cap off.

I sighed and accepted defeat.

It took me eight hours to get out of the forest. When I walked out of the trees I decided to get one picture of my journey. Failed or not, I got to touch him.

I pulled my camera to my eye and gasped. He was there. I took the picture of him standing on top of a small hill. It was as if he was posing for me. Like he acknowledged my hard work and gave me a the picture I was yearning for.

Jessypt Week 85: A Hearty Helping of Fiber

Jessypt
Monday



Picture 1


Picture 2


Jessypt's Choice: Picture 2

Title:

A Hearty Helping of Fiber

“I hate being on a diet,” I muttered to myself as I dug through the pantry and refrigerator in search of the ingredients I needed.

Brownie Mix. Check.

Chocolate Chips. Check.

Oil. Check.

Eggs. Check.

Black Beans. Ugh. Stupid Weight Watchers. Check.

I placed them all on the counter and made quick work of dumping everything in the mixing bowl. When I got to the black beans, I paused and double-checked the recipe.

Drain black beans and puree. Then add to brownie batter.

I looked around my small, ill-equipped college kitchen and wished for the millionth time that I had a food processor. I dug through the drawers and didn’t come up with anything that would get those beans smashed up enough. I was about to scratch the whole thing when my eyes landed on the blender.

Perfect, I thought and dumped the contents into the shiny, glass pitcher. I pressed the puree button and watched as the little black beans turned soupy. I pulled off the lid, and the smell instantly made my nose wrinkle in disgust. Whoever thought putting beans in dessert was seriously hurting for some chocolate.

Oh, wait. That was me.

Feeling a little sick to my stomach, I poured the black sludge into the batter. The smell was disgusting, but fortunately, the chocolate smelled better. I mixed it all together, poured the goopy batter into the pan full of white ramekins, and placed the whole thing in the oven.

As I cleaned up the kitchen, my roommate walked in with a bag full of groceries.

“Hey, girl,” Diana said. “What’s in the oven?”

“Chocolate soufflés.”

She cocked her head at me. “I thought you were on a diet.”

“I am, but I found this recipe on the Weight Watchers website for black bean brownies. So ... I’m improvising.”

She grimaced. “That sounds disgusting.”

I laughed. “I know, but I’m desperate. And all the reviews were good.”

She rolled her eyes and walked away just as the oven timer buzzed.

I pulled out the puffy, bubbly gems and grinned. They looked great. Exactly like the picture, and I couldn’t wait to dig in.

“D! Get in here. Soufflés are ready.”

I sprinkled some powdered sugar on top and then grabbed two forks.

“Smells ... surprisingly good,” she teased as she ripped the fork out of my hand.

With a clink of our fork tines, we dug in.

The first bite was ... interesting. I could taste the chocolate, but it was overpowered by a weird beany flavor. I took another bite and looked at Diana. The expression on her face was priceless. Her mouth was moving around slowly, as if she was trying to savor the flavor but just ... couldn’t.

“So, these are sort of different,” she said diplomatically, and then we both burst out laughing.

“Shut up. You know they suck.”

“Let’s invite the guys over. They’ll love them, and they won’t have a clue.” We both cackled deviously.

“Definitely.”

Two hours later the guys from the apartment next door walked in. We’d become good friends over the last year. It was very “Friends,” but we ignored the cliché and managed not to date each other.

“Where’s the goods?” Ramon asked, pulling me into a hug.

Ramon and I were best friends, and he knew I was usually an ace in the kitchen.

“In the kitchen,” I said, pointing down the hall and patting his afro. “Go!”

Tim, Justin, and Dave followed after him, and as they descended, it sounded like wolves had taken over the place. Chairs scraped the floor. Forks clanked against empty ceramic. And “hell yeahs” echoed in the corridor.

Diana and I could barely contain our laughter. They had totally fallen for it, which wasn’t surprising, just disgusting.

We walked in there, mischievous grins on our faces.

“So ... what did you think?” I asked, leaning casually back against the wall.

Heads nodded and grins spread across their faces. “Have some more with us,” Tim said as he dug into his third one.

“That’s okay. We both had one earlier,” I said. It took everything not to allow the grin I was fighting to spread across my face.

Ramon looked at me, squinted his eyes, and cocked his head. “What?”

“What?” Diana and I both said innocently at the same time.

He pointed his finger at us. “I know you two are up to something. Give it up.”

I burst out laughing. “There. Are. Beans. In. There,” I said, between giggles.

“What?” Justin asked, confused.

“She put black beans in there,” Diana said.

It was one of those classic moments where forks stopped mid air, mouths hung open mid bite, and the guys were all speechless.

“What?” they all asked.

“You heard her. Black beans.”

“But ... but why?” Ramon lamented, his face all twisted up.

I told them the story about finding the recipe online, needing something that was high in fiber, and wanting to get my chocolate fix.

“And you thought black beans was the way to go?” Ramon asked.

I shrugged. “You didn’t seem to mind it earlier.”

They all laughed and dug in. We spent the rest of the evening laughing and playing until late in the night. Exhausted, they all got up.

“You guys want to take the rest of these home?” I asked as we piled dishes in the sink.

“Duh!”

Later that night, as we were headed to bed, Diana stopped and said, “Thank God we’re not at their apartment. Can you imagine ... with all those beans?”

Kimmydonn Week 84: Countdown

HAPPY NEW YEARS! It is fitting that Kimmydonn, one of the original members of this blog, starts off the first prompt of the new year. :)

Kimmydonn
Sunday

Picture 1


Picture 2


Kimmydonn's Choice: Both

Title: Countdown

The last bandage comes off my chin. That stretch, over bone with no fat, was probably the worst of the lot, but it’s finished. I have to wonder what Sadie would think of it. She’d probably tell me it’s hideous and ask why I’d done it. But she can’t tell me that. She will never tell me anything again. Half of me, the half covered in ink, died with her. The other half even the tattoo artist wouldn’t touch.

I close my eyes against the reflection in the mirror, the reflection of my ghost, and remember that last day with her, that last night.

Dancing slowly across the floor. Her skin glowing against the white of her shirt. Pulling her closer and kissing her as the clock strikes midnight.

Hitting a patch of ice and skidding across the road. Hearing her scream.

I open my eyes and look at my scarred cheek and shoulder. The half closest to her was torn by glass and metal when she was torn away. I hadn’t been drinking, neither had the other driver. I wouldn’t forgive the one who had. As it was I had no one to blame, no way to avenge her. I was now half ghost and half monster, none of me man. The man died with her.