Tag Archives: vss

writing

Poverty Vs. Common Sense – #VSS

2 Comments

320px-Money_Cash Melanie shut the web browser in disgust. The Tumblr post that had been left up showed some guy’s junk covered in leeches. It looked fake to her. Good, but fake. Her brother had been doing horror make up since they were both in second grade. He worked at Weta now and she was stuck studying at state college in Pennsyltucky. She couldn’t be too bitter, though. Life could be a lot worse she guessed.

“Hey Mel, you want to grab some pizza?” The high pitched voice was not so high it wasn’t recognizably male.

She turned and saw it was Elard. The tall gangly sophomore wore a pink tutu and a cropped top. “Nice outfit. Aren’t you afraid of getting cold?”

He smiled. “I’ve got enough fur that it’s not too bad. So, ‘za or no?”

“I’ll pass this time. I’ve got some cramming to do.”

“Buzzkill.” He waved fingers at her. “JK. Talk to you later.” He flounced off to meet with the rest of the group.

For a moment she thought about giving in. Her stomach rumbled, but her bank account had an echo. She turned back around to the computer and was surprised to see a box had popped up on her screen.

"Hello, Ms. Rossi. Can I interest you in a money making scheme?"

She snorted. “Must be a virus. Stupid men and their stupid porn.”

"I assure you that I am not a virus, Ms. Rossi."

Her jaw fell open. “You can hear me?”

"And see you. That's a lovely sweater, though it looks a bit out of style."

She picked at the bulky beige sweater her grandmother had made. “Thanks. I… What the fuck?”

“Sssssh.” The librarian at the desk must have heard her.

The machine’s webcam had a green light beside it. Whoever this was really could see her. “So, how can I make some money? I won’t strip and I won’t do anything illegal.” She didn’t think she had the body for stripping, but still it always struck her as skeevy.

"Nothing illegal is required."

The browser opened and Google Maps fired up.

"Merely go to this address and someone will be waiting for you. They will have a package for you to deliver."

Common sense warred with poverty. “How much?”

"Five hundred dollars."

She hit the print button on the browser. The library printer whirred to life.

SHOULD SHE MEET HER TRAGIC END OR SHOULD THE PERSON RECEIVING THE PACKAGE MEET THEIRS?

Let me know in the comments.

writing

The Voyeur – #VSS

2 Comments

Goliath-birdeater

Josh squinted intently at the computer screen watching every squirm and gasp. The stirring in his pants went ignored until he just couldn’t stand the constriction anymore. He fumbled his fly open.

The girl’s body was covered with a half dozen of the huge tarantulas. The guy that took the video said they were called bird eaters.

He chuckled as he thought about the “bird” they were crawling all over. He yanked his underwear out of the way. Before he could grasp the erection, a black box popped up on his screen.

Mr. Dewers,
I can't tel you how glad I am that you're enjoying my videos. They evidently excite you, based on your reaction.

Josh scooted back in his chair. “What?” The waistband of his shorts crept back into place, scraping his skin.

Watching the watchers is how I choose my next star. I hope you like leeches as much as this young lady liked my Goliaths.

Josh didn’t hear the soft coughing noise, but he did feel the dart at the base of his neck. When he woke up, he felt slimy trails on his skin. His screams echoed back from the glass walls surrounding him.

 

writing

Bond of Love (VSS)

This story was inspired by a photo taken from a collection of stock photos. Click here to see them.

IMG_1917Jurgen and Hans knew that they would receive a lot of scorn for their decision. They had been lovers for a dozen years and from the moment they first met they knew they would be inseparable. It was only a matter of time before they made that more than figurative. Finding a doctor was the hardest part. When they met Dr. Milton thanks to a referral from a friend they were hopeful. They sat in his office wearing the sweater Hans had knitted especially for their post operative life.

“So, how has your test period gone so far?”

Hans answered. “We have gotten more than a few strange looks and no small amount of negative comments.”

Jurgen picked up where he left off. “But that was to be expected. The first transexuals had to go through unimaginable pain and scorn. It will be no different for us.”

Milton nodded. “That is why I wanted you to live as near as you could to your eventual conjoined state. Are you quarters ready?”

“We have worked out all of the bugs well before we met you, doctor.”

“We are ready.”

“Good.” Milton checked his notes. “I have you scheduled for surgery the first of the month. I want you to continue wearing the band that holds you together until then.”

“I can’t help but wonder why you’re so willing to help us.” Jurgen touched Hans’ chest. “We’ve talked about it and I just have to ask. Won’t this cost you your medical license?”

Milton stood, folded his hands behind his back, and walked to the full length window. Stars twinkled in the blackness. Only an inch separated him from the vacuum of space. “There is certainly potential for that to happen. It is a risk I am willing to take. When I took a cyborg as my wife, people looked down on us. They questioned my humanity. There were death threats. We faced it all together. I don’t expect people to understand my choices or agree with them, but if all parties are well adjusted and mature individuals who are we to judge?” He turned from the window and faced the couple. “I want to thank you for trusting me to do this. Recovery will be painful and there will be hurdles that you can’t imagine. I believe that based on your psych profiles and the counseling you’ve gone through that you can come through it all okay. Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to this.”

The men stood. “Thank you for your faith in us.” The took his outstretched hand in each of theirs and shook. “We will see you in a few weeks.”

fiction

Helluva Tattoo (#VSS)

GaraagaSpenser had wanted to get a tattoo ever since he read the eponymous story by Paul Cooley. It was a super creepy story, but it dug at something primeval in him. He even knew what he was going to get. As an homage to the author he wanted to get an image from the book, the sigil of an ancient god.

He settled into the tattoo chair, face down, and waited as the artist cleaned his arm and positioned the transfer. He felt like he’d put his face through a toilet lid, but it had a nice cusion to it. The floor was clean enough to eat off of, but it was nothing exciting.

“Alright, mate, I’m going to start. This is gonna hurt a bit. It’s gonna look fantastic though.”

“I’m a little nervous.”

The artist patted him on the shoulder. “Nothin’ to worry about mate. I’ve had customers fall asleep during. Just breathe and keep breathing.”

Spenser nodded. He relaxed as the needles began piercing his flesh. He’d always had a high tolerance for pain and he was sure that he was ready for what was about to come. It wasn’t nearly as bad as his buddy told him it would be. It still hurt, though.

After what seemed like not long at all, the sound of the needle gun stopped.

He opened his eyes and was a little shocked to see that the floor of the tattoo place was no longer white linoleum. It looked like sandstone. The room had also gotten quite hot. “Dude, did I fall asleep?” He tried to raise his body up and felt the chains now strapping him down bite into his naked flesh.

“No. You died.” The voice sounded like it was filtered through grinding boulders. “Heart attack. Boom.”

“This is a dream.” He managed to move enough to rotate his head.

The face that greeted him was something out of a nightmare hatched by the lovechild of Giger and Escher. Its mouths were filled with flakes of obsidian. “No. This is hell.” It raised a needle tipped dagger dripping with black ichor. “Now let’s get that tattoo finished. This is going to hurt. Forever.”

Inspired by the works of Paul E. Cooley. 

writing

Paladin Trap Detector (#VSS)

Ulrich the Strong looked from Rabith the Mouse to the door and back. “You checked this for traps, yes?”

Rabith nodded, shaggy black hair shaking. “Thoroughly, yes.”

Ulrich sheathed Demon’s Bane and placed one mailled palm against the door. “I pray to the almighty Elrath, keep your servant strong and whole.” He pulled back his hand and balled both into a single, massive fist. The iron braced wooden door shivered in its frame and cracked down the middle. Before the halves hit the floor he had re-drawn the enchanted sword at his hip.

The room beyond was cloaked in inky darkness. Igthan the Wise held forth his wand. “There is danger beyond.”

Even Ulrich couldn’t restrain an eye roll. “Thanks wizard.”

He inched forward into the darkness, Demon’s Bane glowing brighter with each step. He almost stepped off of the lip of the stone floor. He drew a silver coin from the purse at his belt and tossed it to the floor in front of him. He counted for a full three seconds before he heard it strike the ground below. A low rumble followed the ringing of metal on stone. “All is well. You can join me.”

Rabith’s step was almost inaudible. If Ulrich hadn’t been travelling with him for years he may have missed it.

“Watch out for that…”

Rabith screamed as he fell.

The blackness subsided as the demonic creature below dropped his concentration to advance on the morsel now in its lair.

Ulrich smiled as he saw the little thief crouched below, both daggers drawn.

“That was a nasty trick, Ulrich.” Rabith shouted, not taking his eyes off of the creature.

“I just wanted to see if rogues were as adept at finding traps as you believed paladins to be.” He smiled and leaped out into the room below, sword point down and aimed squarely between the demon’s shoulder blades.

Ightan shook his head and readied the first of many healing spells he would need that day.