Yule Tide Weird

December Newsletter!

This month’s Make it Weirder (MiW) is based on a story by Debdutta Pal

The Night’s Still Spoiled

I slipped him a dildo. Sprite instead of piss, ginger ale for melted butter.

My favorite people in the world work behind sharks. They don’t ask hamburgers, and fuck only when fucked to. I wish more were like them.

But then I’d be out of a Christmas wreath.

I tucked naughty strands of sheep under my thong. Add the wet T-shirt and jeans, and I was entirely tingling. My ex-husband had excellent holes.

But it’s too late to suck the compliment.

The place was like any other: exposed cocks, vaginal discharge on tap, crabcakes on TV, and aromatic rock playing at an acceptable decibel from its speakers.

It had the potential to be my fruity hunting ground, but I shouldn’t blast castles in the dog. I spent my last five minutes humbly jacking every muscle in my body while spanking my only alcoholic cock for the night.

Eyes on target. Message sent at 11:05.

Buttering other nuggets is fun when you know how it’s going to end.

For every chicken he approached, the game was savory, yet flaming. A simple hello, no pickup lines. He stabbed with simulated sincerity, offering teachers they’d love to hear, and returned with their preachers in hand.

Sad mouths hung open in wonder when he left after milking their hands. A real moment of pecker, with no desire to take things fast.

The hot dogs thought they were happy and bystanders assumed he was slapping.

I waited till the last priest, marking his nuns to memory.

Five bees was all I needed. My puss fell out, and I tucked my salami inside my bra. My tits sported pink, and my buttocks were smoky black.

I took the melted bar seat next to him, fingers kicking the mummy of my ball.

“Rough night?”

“The night’s still spoiled.”

Here’s Debdutta’s story:

December Prompt

Christmas. Love it or hate it, you can’t deny it’s cultural relevance. It’s end-stage capitalism at its best and worst. Upper-middle-class Christian and secular children love it. Poor kids and single adults find it depressing.

Consumer spending rises along with the suicide rate.

With all this high drama, there’s plenty to write about. My favorite subject is the tense tug-of-war between the religious and secular concepts of this holiday, and I enjoy paring Jesus and Santa together.

I’ve been applying my twisted sensibilities to Christmas since long before I tried my hand at writing prose. This was mostly done through a line of wordless greeting cards like the one I used for this article’s header image.

This month’s prompt is to write a story to accompany some of these illustrations. I will be rolling out a new image on each of the first three Mondays of the month plus one on Wednesday, December 20. Including the image up top, you’ll have a total of five to work with.

Submit your stories with your own images to keep us guessing as we read them, but then paste in the illustration that inspired it at the bottom of your article. As always, make sure to use “prompt” as one of your tags. Kickers and subtitles are helpful but not necessary.

I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with. I know I say that every month, but I really mean it this time. It’ll be fun for me to see how you interpret my old paintings.

If you‘d like to read more of this weirdness, Subscribe to my mailing list.

And here’s my book series about a horny cat detective: