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Wednesday, 17 December 2014

A Quickie

Here's a quickie - or Flash if you will...
I took part earlier this year in a flash fiction challenge hosted by Leone Ross.

Here's the final exercise where we had to start with a short story then half it and half it again. NOT edited so excuse any nonsense, I'm trying to bat it out to you as raw and uncensored as possible.

I wonder if they still hold their meaning. I quite liked the last one but then I wondered if it only made sense to me as I'd read the other two first... (apart from writing it!)

Anyway - what do you think?

By the way - Flash is FUN!!!



The Last Day (299 words)

The last day drips slowly covering everything in it's woozy hypnosis.

All I want is to race outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass. We'd made pinhole cameras from oatmeal boxes, That's the thing I'll remember. I'd sat cross legged around the wire holding up a telegraph pole and positioned my camera between my feet aimed at my crotch. The picture itches at me through the canvass of my bag. I want to see it again. Want to see the perspective of the spooky almost Victorian image of myself. The cable appearing like my own huge silvery cock mighty and probing the sky high above my head. I love it. I love the picture of me, so feminine with my cock penetrating the clouds.

Fuck yeah, I thought when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the chemical bath.

How to politely shrug him off in such a confined space?

Luckily, when the image appeared, for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He stepped back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.

The memory of this moment only an hour or so before has me lifting my bag and peering inside at the image. My face in the shadow of my long hair, I could be anyone. Anyone. You can see my breasts through my shirt and my huge huge cock between my skirt.

It is utter confusion and utter perfection. I have just discovered a new part of my existence and now I want to run through the grass in my bare feet.

Cock swinging.


The Last Day (143 words)

All I want is to race outside and stretch my cramped toes into the grass.

We'd made pinhole cameras from oatmeal boxes.

I'd sat cross legged around the supporting wire up a telegraph pole with my camera between my feet aimed at my crotch. The cable thrust high like an erect cock.

Fuck yeah, I thought when it slowly and magically appeared in the shallow solution. The darkroom oppressive with the breath of Mr Paul at my shoulders trying to hold my rigid arm and guide my perfectly capable hands in the chemical bath.

When the image cleared, for the briefest of moments the appendage looked real. He stepped back quickly, dropping my hand and clearing his throat.

I have just discovered a new part of my existence and now I want to run through the grass in my bare feet.

Cock swinging.


The Last Day (77 words)

The image burns into the shiny paper, scaring off the advances of my teacher in the darkroom. He recoils at the picture appearing of me with a cock between my legs. My cock.

The pinhole camera had been perfectly positioned – an optical illusion. Sitting cross legged behind a cable shooting up to steady a telegraph pole. Feminine transformed.

The bell ends the last day.

I run to freedom stretching my toes in the grass.

Cock swinging.



This is inspired by a true event - I did make this photo - sadly it is either lost, or worse languishing somewhere in the attic!

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