Flash Friday- Smutty edition.

I have had a hell of a week. So how about some smutty flash fiction to start the weekend?

I have a terrible and wonderful love/obsession with Vagina Dentata.

Here, have this little dreamy piece about it.Next week, I’ll do a sample from my writing classes I’m working on featuring this piece and an exercise.

Enjoy.

Gia’s Secret

I blame my loudmouth roommate for this entire situation.

When JJ got home from her date with Gia.

I heard her say-

“Goddamn Gia is a toothy cunt.”

I think that is what she said. I don’t know I was too busy being drunk and low key in love with Gia.

What I heard was-

“Goddamn Gia has a toothy cunt.”

Had I not been so drunk I would have understood.

I was drunk because I had just broken up with my girlfriend and upon hearing that my roommate was going on a date with my crush I did the sensible thing. I bought an enormous bottle of cheap wine and took the couch.

JJ stopped to lean over the couch to look down at me.

“You should call Gia and ask her out on a date. She is way more your type than mine. And you should probably go to bed. You’re really drunk.”

I don’t remember JJ putting me in bed or stripping me. I do remember her taking my bag of chips away and putting a bottle of water on my nightstand.

After she left me, I lay there turning over the idea of Gia in my head.

My cunt started to burn, I felt the blood moving, my lips swelling and wanting to be touched. I waited, thinking about JJ’s comment.

“Gia has a toothy cunt.”

Toothy cunt, toothy cunt. I closed my eyes and pictured her fine, lean brown body. I’d seen her naked before. Shit, I’ve seen almost all of my friends naked. We have stripped together, tricked together, been photographed together. Yet, I could not remember if I had seen teeth or not.

Gia is sleek where I am not. She is muscled and tight, catlike and androgynous in a classic kind of way. I wonder if she still has that precision trimmed bush, verdant in a tightly controlled way that is beyond sexy. My fingers move between my own thighs as I imagine the topography of her cunt.

Are her lips dark like the ones on her face? Do they have that petulant mean curve, do they fold soft and wrinkly as wilting fern fronds? Could I get them to swell and spread with just one finger? Just one finger dragged slowly just where they protrude, just a tickle. Just enough to promise more but not enough to deliver.

I saw myself with my face between her strong thighs, dipping my tongue into the crenulated secrets of her cunt before peeling her lips open to tickle her sharp secret teeth.

Eyes closed I imagined dipping my tongue just inside her, just enough to feel the slick of teeth on the tip of my tongue.

Unwise as the desire might be I wouldn’t recoil from the slick smoothness, I would smile against her. I could almost taste her, feel her lithe, muscular body twisting, warning me of the danger to come.

Against the backdrop of my closed eyes, I tried to paint her, lips full and dark, slick and revealing the barest sliver of deepest wet red. Wet as a screaming mouth full of danger.

I’d want her fuck hungry, ready to devour me whole.

I neared orgasm the world grayed out around me, I must have passed out because I woke up with a fuzzy mouth and my hand wedged between my thighs.

I couldn’t remember coming or not, but I did remember vivid dreams of a flash of teeth, old ivory buried inside hot wet red.

The beauty of my fixation is that I have a date with Gia tonight and I hope to come home tongueless.

 

Yeah Write #266- Beautiful Pit Vipers

Beautiful Pit Vipers

Through the blood of my Mother I am Thai. I have her round moon face and nasty disposition. My Father gave me his dark brown skin and gap toothed smile. I wish I was sweet like him, back home, he always greeted every other Black man he saw with arms wide open, a big smile and a “hey brotha, how you doin?”

Everybody loved my Daddy. Even them boys, the ones who hung out drinking tall boys all day. When something good happened to them, my Daddy was the first person they told.

My Mama on the other hand. Most everyone in our neighborhood gave her a wide berth. Daddy always said we were his jungle vipers. His brown spotted green pit vipers, nocturnal and deadly. He never knew about The World, even when it came for him. He only knew that my Mama taught me to fight the way she learned to fight.

Mama taught me the same Muay Thai she learned. Hours outside kicking saplings, Mama with me at the gym barking at me,

“Elbow, like axe! BOOM! CHOP! KNEE KNEE KNEE!”

At home, she would wait until Daddy left for work or just elsewhere, and we would sit together in our training area in the basement. We sat cross legged on the cold floor, knees to knees, eyes to eyes. She taught me the ways and hows of The World. She hypnotized me with her low voice.

“We do not give quarter. We are made for bringing death. We will protect the Innocent, like your Daddy. Okay?”

I always said yes ma’am. Or screamed wild as any beautiful pit viper should, “YES MAMA!”

Now I’m alone.

I’m sitting in the basement of my parents house with their ashes cradled in my arms and tears streaming down my face.

The World took them.

For that there is no forgiveness, I will take no quarter.

The World will learn.

I get my shit together and stop crying over their ashes. I get the house closed up tight, mirrors covered, furniture sent to neighbors and friends. I get my weapons and head out into the night to find a Door and walk out of the world until The World bleeds, as I shed tears.

The world will forget us. The World will wish it could.

###

Plans Of The Writer

For those who aren’t supporting me on Patreon, I’ve announced over there that I’ve started rewrites on my urban fantasy novelette in progress working titled The Daiyu Saga and those chapters will be the new Patron only stuff.

That done, I will likely list a bunch of my source material on Etsy along with some other stuff.

I’ve also been thinking about what to do with The World  (go back to last Sept to read them all) I still have a deep interest in putting them together in a collection of linked stories. I’m thinking I could do that as a kindle book, try it for KDP select and that way a LOT of folks could read them for free/I wouldn’t need to manage the way I do my Etsy stuff.

I’m also working on SCLAB stuff and essays.

My output right now is pretty consistent and I’m pleased with it. I put a new piece up at Medium about marginalized writers and risk.

While I’m very happy with what I’ve been writing lately, what I’m not as happy with is that I’m again finding myself in a pressurized position because economically, not one of these things is really viable for me in a way that helps me life my actual non writing life.

Intellectually I know that even as things are, my partner and I still have our little apartment. He’s got the medication he needs. We have food.

Emotionally speaking, if my non writing life is the toy I am these birds. Inside my brain there are cats, hamsters, puppies a carnival wheel and a class full of first graders hopped up on Mt. Dew all losing their collective shit at top volume pretty much all the time.

My Poverty Brain has kicked in full speed with anxiety kicker.

I will say that unlike previous years, the shit fuckery in my head isn’t causing me to be unable to write so there’s that.

That said, I’m stuck at that point of making some of this shit profitable while battling a whole host of other feelings. Those are feelings I will likely keep to myself and a few friends because reasons.

So that’s what’s going on.

I might schedule up some posts here because I have ANOTHER thing. In a few short days, I’ll make my triumphant return to personal blogging.

Come and check it out, subscribe and hold on to your butt.

auntieheader
Aww YISS!!

Now I’m going to dayjob and work on shit.

Grind grind grind grind.

Try to make them extra coins.

And stay calm.

Yeah Write Entry #263- Down Home

Down Home

by

Shannon Barber

Mama said I’d know when the time was right. She skipped all the magical menses bullshit and woowoo sparkly nonsense. She sat me down and told me straight.

“I can’t tell you one way or the other if you got the gift or not. If The World wants you and you got what it want, it’ll call. Stop worrying about it and go do them dishes.”

I waited until I was thirty goddamn years old. I had accepted it. I would not be like other women in my family that way. I did not have the magic.

Two weeks after I turned thirty I felt it. I saw the Shadows gathered in the corner of my living room and I felt the heartbeat of The World. I felt the pull, I felt the need deep in my belly. Lower than lust, deeper than need, it pulled at the marrow in my bones.

The World did not call me home as I thought it would. Not my real home at any rate. It called me home to a swamp full of dank nightmares and thin places. When the air touched my skin, that is when it all really happened.

“Sss, errr, esss, ood. Mmmmm.”

The first voice came on the first current of hot wet air, the rest joined it in a susurrus of hissy, sibilance that I felt on my arms. I felt the little silky summer dress lifting away from my body, I felt them as silken paws of sensation.

“Stop.”

I signed desperately. The World, may have been speaking, but it did not listen. These were not things of the world and my body wanted them. I wasn’t speaking to them, I was talking to me.

My body opened to the voice of The World as it had never opened to any lover. My skin craved subvocalalizations that thrummed against me as if my skin was nothing more than the thinnest thing between air and something full of liquid and fit to burst. I was broken. Naked and brown in a hot swamp thousands of miles away from my Mother and on my knees.

I heard none of it. I felt it in the waters of my body, I felt fricatives devouring my cunt and the plosives I yearned for exploding against my eyelids and the tender flesh at the nape of my neck.

The World took me more completely than any lover and touched me deeper than any God. It called me to touch me with fingers made of language I will never hear.

I don’t know what it means. This was not my Mother’s calling.

I am the living secret of The World. I am deaf to the world and my body feels the true voice of The World and I don’t mind. I’m no Mage or Warrior, no Beholder or Scrivener. I am only a Secret.

The World wants me and it will have me.

###

Hustlin’ Hustlin

So.

I am on that hustle because frankly I want to buy some summer clothes that fit my ass and my aesthetic. Also baby got bills to pay.

I also decided to do a digital version of my poetry chapbook The Motherfuckess Manifesta And Other Poems. The print version will be handmade and not the exact same book. I am taking my time with that because I’m terrible at book building.

 

You can go check that out here. I also relisted my Lovecrafty Story Doe Mouse. Deer Mouse. Rabbit and Bunny.  I even added a tiny bonus Crawling Chaos story.

What else?

You can also read more flash by me over at Catapult. 

I think that’s all the news for now. I’ll be starting to deliver some brand new stuff to folks who support me via Patreon. Shit is getting exciting up in there.

What else is happening?

Essentially, I’m struggling to settle into my new/current experience of poverty. Those first couple of months of the increased cost of living haven’t been gentle. I have stress rashes, I’ve had panic attack shits and I’ve choked myself out creatively speaking. Shit is so hard.

BUT, I’m trying really hard not to completely freak out.

I’ve got some freelance paychecks coming in later this month and next month.

I’m sort of on target with writing new stuff ish.

I’m trying.

But shit is fucking hard y’all.

That’s it for now. We may or may not step into The World tomorrow. I have a thing for that, but it’s not quite what I want. I’m on that heavy experimentation tip again so we’ll see if I can pull it off.

 

More Free Fiction. Experimental Horror.

I am still in a mood so how about some more free to read experimental horror and craft yammer?

Before I post the thing, let’s talk about what I was playing with.

Outside of horror I’m also a huge fan of drug fiction. Low culture, junkies yanno.

I have Mike Arnzen’s book Instigation: Creative Prompts on the Dark Side a book full of dark prompts. I have talked about it before and HIGHLY recommend y’all. I bought it when it came out and use it regularly.

I believe I used a prompt about demons and I started wondering, what about a junkie demon? As with most things, it started with a what if a junkie became some kind of demon.

I also wanted to play with the non-believer doing something dumb trope. The point in a horror movie where you start yelling DO NOT GO IN THERE/DO THAT STUPID YOU GONNA DIE.

And with that, I present y’all with Light Junkie. This is another one that I submitted to a few places with pretty loose horror definitions and it wasn’t really Horror Horror.

OH also in case you are subbed and don’t click over, click over. I wanted to change ONE tiny thing and went entirely left and changed everything. Also now you can hit that link to see everything I’ve published that is available/that I can remember.

Enjoy.

Continue reading “More Free Fiction. Experimental Horror.”

Baby tries Fantasy. Ft Fancasting

Under the read more you’ll find the whole first page of my second try at fantasy. I tried it before with these characters and tried again. Actually I’ll show you the whole thing I have so far. In FACT I’ll include my fancast for it. Because that is a thing I do often. Also pardon if my train of thought wanders at times I haven’t really slept in two days.

My idea for this is this as follows:

  • Gender markers being fucked with. Our King is a woman named Nailah. Her wizard wears dresses because he likes them. King Nailah is a war king. She is a bad ass with a bad reputation and she likes to seduce everyone and hang out with her fellow warriors. Think Gina Torres would play her in a movie after beefing up a bit. Okay a lot of bit, like Linda Hamilton in T2. See here but picture her with locs and with some facial scars and tattoos.

king

 

  • Her Queen to be, is a literal cat person. So I spent some time studying feline social behaviors, etc. and came up with the assholest cat to be a cat person. Her name is Makatza and she’s somewhat of a mystical figure in this fantasy land. I thought a lot about how to incorporate some really specific cat behaviors into a human sized being. The tail swish, one turned ear, being a demanding but totally loveable little butthole. Imagine she’s furry, her middle body is beigy brown and as her fur goes around her body it turns black. But her fur isn’t like tiger fur, think more downy softy fur. Her ears are black, her tail is black and quite long. She isn’t a shape shifter, she is a cat person. Think a body type like Countess Vaughn here, but a bit less busty.
countess
Imagine her as a cat.
  • Our next important character is called Nazar and he is the King’s bestie, former lover and war wizard. He is also very shy and anxious. In this part of this story (there are longer versions and notes)he’s still a bit young and has a bit of puppy fat yet. But yes this face both the younger and the older are what I imagine when I think of Nazar. He’s very loyal, very good at his craft and is a bit confused as to what role he is to play with the King.
nazar
Nazar the Catalyst as a baby wizard.
  • So far we also get a peek at First Regent Bilale who is like the captain of the gaurd, confidant, tactical expert and potentially the man who will teach our King to be a husband. I haven’t decided yet. Picture this gorgeous gent a bit older and scarred up. Like he’s been swinging axes and shit.
bilale.jpg
I just..well. Yeah look at him.

So far those are most of the major players I imagine in my head. There are some others I can’t totally see yet.

But we see why this could be an issue don’t we?

I’m sure somebody will be asking themselves, but where are the White people Shannon?

Well………

Nope.

This magical land is full of black and brown folks (there is a char I picture as Margaret Cho with her shaved head, but that’ll happen later) but yeah. Naw.

What’s interesting is that one person I floated this idea to give me a little bit of the “but that’s not believable” I almost automatically spat out that Junot Diaz quote about motherfuckers reading shit in Elvish and inquired about how many places in medievil Europe were rocking dragons and shit?

I’m not sure how much of this world, I will create but so far I’m pretty into it. I’m working on word-building, like a whole world that is Earthy but not Earth. I’m working on creating some language, some cultural stuff and so far I haven’t gone off the deep nerd end.

Yet.

So here you go folks. It is my birthday and my present to you is a bit of Cat Rules Queen, a fantasy WIP by yours truly. OH also this is entirely unedited exactly as it came out of my brain. No rewrites/correction so don’t trip.

Enjoy.

 

Continue reading “Baby tries Fantasy. Ft Fancasting”

Yeah Write #248- I Dream of Doormen

I Dream of Doormen

by

Shannon Barber

Some say the Doormen are all brothers. Or clones, pieces of the same dream. In the world they all look alike. Beautiful elder Black men, long rawboned and devilishly handsome.

I saw one once. Late at night on the drunk bus. He was old enough to be my Daddy and gorgeous enough to be my Daddy. He smiled a gap toothed smile and smelled like a good time. A little musk, sandalwood and expensive liquor.

“Evenin’ miss lady.”

His voice transfixed me. The velvety promise of good head and breakfast after. It sent a delicate tingle of fear and desire from my tailbone to the base of my neck. He saw me.

“Hi. How are you?”

He hummed and my pussy tingled.

“Oh me, I’m right as rain. Sitting next to a pretty lady, being sped safely home, belly full. No, I can’t complain Madam Death. And I ain’t on the point of your sword, so me I’m good. You hunting tonight?”

He said it all so sweet and full of that pussy tingling bass it took me a minute to take it in.

“Going home. No blood for my thirsty blades tonight. You see me?”

He squinted at me and nodded. He saw, he looked into my soul and saw me.

“Oh, I see you. You burn. You shine like a beacon.”

I wanted him to put his big elegant hand on my thigh or lean over and murmur something nasty and delicious in my ear. No such luck for me.

He hummed and I vibrated from my cunt to the top of my head. He murmured some kind of dirty blues under his breath and held me with his eyes and voice.

“Well, here go my stop.”

He took my hand and kissed it with soft seeking lips. Skin to skin told me all I wanted to know. I couldn’t have him, he was not for me, but the desire would live under my skin for a long time to come.

“I’ll see you. Some night the Door you open will be mine. Goodnight Madam Death.”

My jacket smelled like him for days. Whenever I pass a Door I hope, I wish and wait. Someday The World will turn and it will be his door I crash through. For now I live with my fantasies. My bloody lips, his big hands and that voice humming to coax the secrets and magic of The World from between my thighs.

###

ps…

I changed my mind we’re gonna roll with The World for a bit longer.

Yeah Write entry#245- Lost Innocent

Lost Innocent

by

Shannon Barber

I was an Innocent.

For most of my life I did what Innocents do. When the darkness was too deep I looked away. I obeyed the frisson of fear, itching inside my tailbone. Like all Innocents my bones, knew The World and instinct kept me away.

Maybe it was depression or lethal curiosity that compelled me to open my eyes wide and see the door open. The Doorman had a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat and a manner so charming- no it wasn’t his fault. I walked through the door without a light or talisman or fucking clue.

The World opened to me and I thought I was special. The One, magical and chosen.

I wasn’t.

The World is dark, even during the paltry daytime. The air is thick and grimy, you can feel magic born of blood and terror crawl on your skin. The World is not the place of dreams and magical adventures where I got to be so special. It is the darkest of nightmares, the dark that reveals things to you in maddening wafting shadows and plays of dimness.

Sometimes while I’m cowering in some cave or ditch full of lukewarm water and moving things, if this is the warmer hearted sister of Tartarus or a hell of my own making.

My first night here I ran from some wordless creatures that I knew on sight wanted my pain and not my death. Artful sadists with vaguely human forms, not human enough for comfort and too human to not to be horrifying.

I was an Innocent.

I have learned what it is to be prey. I have returned to the primitive and primal. I have reconnected with my own innate animal nature.

All I want is to be an Innocent again.

The World is not for me.

The World….

                        is not for me.

###

Yeah Write #244- Sidus.

Sidus

by

Shannon Barber

Listen, Professori. Welcome learned one to my home.

Oh no, no, I am no spider. I will not burn you, you are my biographer. You are my flameless mouth in the world. The Beholders and Scriveners have seen now you shall tell.

I am born of The World. Like all my brothers and sisters, we are made here and die here by blade or stick or the magic.

I am only one, I am a child here.

Oh, you, no need to flatter me. I know to your eye how I must look.

What’s that?

Gender, yes. Not in the manner you understand. I am for our purposes female male rather than male female.

It means that I am the vessel of young. Male females can carry no young.

Yes, to your eye we all look female. We have evolved to be pretty things, a nightmare wrapped in the pleasing architecture of what in the world is read as female. Someday I would like to meet our Generist. What an eye for form and beauty they have. Their terrors speak to elegance and wonder.

I  Sidus. I am female male Sidus. I am the maker of more of us and the crucible of the unwary.

Anatomy? Of course, how rude of me.

This, look closely, but not so close your face hairs burn, is the Fire of Consciousness. As you can see, mine burns close to my skull. I am less gregarious than many of the others. My secrets are closely kept. This is not where the danger lives. Now step back, inside here is the danger.

In my throat lives the Hunger. The Flames of Avaricious Absolute Need. We must feed the flames, we must give the fire what it screams for. You see we are not mindless ravening things, we are not the creation of a simple Generist, our maker  is well- suffice to say our maker has great scope and vision.

Forgive me Professori, I am perhaps too eager. I don’t mean to stand so close to you.

I- oh oh dear.

I am so sorry. I did not mean to do that. I don’t even know how that happened my flames are sated. I must say, you are lovely while you burn. I wonder will all your knowledge burn with you?

Now you will die.

Before you are ash and smoke may I tell you a secret?

The World will-

Oh, damn.

Goodbye Professori. May you burn with your brethren, and let the fires keep you warm.

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