PROMPT-FILL: Intense Thoughts: A. Her tone was so matter-of-fact [choking]

Title: A. Her tone was so matter-of-fact
Collection: Intense Thoughts
Author: Harper Kingsley

“I masturbated furiously.
Then I smoked some weed.
And my thoughts became very intense.”

A. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it took them a moment to catch up. Then the meaning sunk in.

Albert went bright red and Clarice made a sputtering sound in her throat. “Why I never…”

“Did she just say what I thought she said?” Leon whispered to Yoshina. She hushed him and swatted at his hand, telling him to listen.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. She was probably right. The old people were so touchy; they took offense at every little thing.

His reaction to the farce taking place in front of him was going to be remembered for years to come.

Leon straightened his back and kept his facial expressions placid and untroubled.

He kept up his mask of scion of a respectable family all through the rest of the party. He swallowed his reactions to the things the dotty old relatives said and knew that he’d done well. At the end of the evening, Great Uncle Hermann even gave him a hearty farewell hug.

Leon enjoyed his sense of accomplishment all the way home.

Until he grasped the handle for his front door and the door swung open. There were broken ends of wood sticking out where pieces of the doorframe had broken away.

Leon turned on his heel and began to run. But from the muscled arm that went around his neck, he was too late.

As he choked and flailed helplessly, he could feel the walls of his throat closing shut. Tight pressure that didn’t quite hurt. His assailant was being careful not to damage the merchandise. He could almost be grateful.

He felt an entirely inappropriate pressure in his groin. Now? You wanna do this NOW?!

It was a teasing lick of pleasure. An instinctive tightening of muscles. From I want to pee to Oh as his body couldn’t decide whether it liked being strangled or not.

Then the black spots took over his vision. And his lungs were screaming. Terror had his heart hammering out blood as it tried to get oxygen to his brain.

There was the almost gentle stroke of a gloved hand against his cheek. His grasping, clenching fingers clawed weakly at a leather coat as the man’s head leaned close to his ear.

Say goodnight, Brucie” was the last thing he heard before passing out.


PROMPT-FILL: Intense Thoughts: J. He’d been in prison long enough [NSFW]

Title: J. He’d been in prison long enough
Collection: Intense Thoughts
Author: Harper Kingsley

“I masturbated furiously.
Then I smoked some weed.
And my thoughts became very intense.”

He’d been in prison long enough that he didn’t care who watched. As long as they kept their hands to themselves, they could admire all they liked.

The paper crinkled in his fist and he fought not to squeeze. He wanted to save the letter. It was from his favorite admirer. But it was hard not to wrinkle the sheet of notebook paper as he rocked his dick up into his encircling right hand.

With as much care as he could manage–not much–he laid the letter on the edge of the pillow near his head. Then he dug his heels into the thin mattress and began thrusting his hips as he jerked himself. He propped his left elbow behind his back to get some leverage as he made the mattress cry out beneath him, a creaking of springs and shifting of his whole body.

He gasped rhythmically as he worked himself off. And when he came, it was with a dramatic thrusting of hips and a flop back amongst sullied sheets.

He lay there for a long moment, face uplifted and eyes closed. He drew in deep shuddering breaths and let the sweat and cum dry on his skin.

Tomorrow was laundry day. They’d come around with the big carts and change his bedding for new.

Tonight he would sleep amongst his own body’s excretions. He would breathe in the scent of himself and rub it deep into his touch-starved skin.

And he would dream of his dear admirer.

His dear heart that he wished he’d met before his incarceration.


“$85 Dry Cleaning Bill”

Title: $85 Dry Cleaning Bill
Author: Harper Kingsley

PROMPT: I need to wash my blanket. It smells like dirty girl.

FILL: I need to wash my blankie, Holden thought, wrinkling her nose.

The dark cream colored rectangle of fake fur smelled of dirty girl and rancid powdered Corpse. Her own familiar smell had been completely wiped away by her cousin. Her terrible, terrible cousin. The would-be necromancer and part-time necrophile.

Her blanket felt tainted now. And the smell made her want to gag. If she didn’t love that scrap of fabric so much she would have thrown it away. As it was, she’d have to take it to the Dry Cleaners and hope they could save it.

Holden bundled the blanket into a garbage bag and tied it shut. She tossed the bag in the backseat of her car and drove to a coffee shop where she enjoyed a black coffee sweetened by two sugars and a croissant sandwich for lunch. While she was there she ran a quick Internet search for highly rated Dry Cleaners.

She chose and saved the directions to Happy Harry’s onto her phone. She ignored the notification that said she’d had five missed calls (This is my day) and finished her coffee. Then she drove to the Dry Cleaners, who told her it was going to cost $85 to save her blanket.

By the time she was home getting ready for the evening’s Entertainment, she was simmering over the amount of the bill. Her cousin hadn’t even apologized when she’d made such a big mess at Thanksgiving. (That selfish bitch. She only thinks about herself. She didn’t even look sorry when she got Uncle Raymond’s fingers chopped off. It was all about her. Never mind our family.) She’d swooped in, dropped angry criminals on them all, killed a bunch of people, then flew back east. She’d turned their family into a spectacle. And she’d never truly apologized.

It hurt to think that the family had welcomed her into their homes and she’d treated them so shabbily. Holden had made a fool of herself welcoming her new famous cousin. She’d shown her around and introduced her to all of her friends. And what had she gotten in return? A bloodbath in her backyard. A pile of bloody clothes and makeshift medical supplies in her room. A bunch of sexually assaulted family members–male and female, old and young-young–that she could barely look at without feeling like crying. And an 85-frakking-dollar Dry Cleaning bill because her cousin’s “friend”/hitman/lackey had taken a nap on her bed without her permission.

Holden’s cousin’s whirlwind visit had been a series of horrifying events that their family might never fully recover from. There were so many emotional scars forming that she found it too selfish to mention her financial concerns to any of them. They’d been through so much.

She felt too guilty to complain about her badly damaged rental house.

So to keep her creditors off her back, she’d gotten the kind of job she’d promised herself she’d never do. But what real choice did she have?

It was either pay the bills or end up in Debtors’ Prison. Or worse.

She could end up on the Auction Block. Where she would regret being so wholesome and pretty (I’d get full body tattoos and hack my hair off before my sale date. I’d rather be a Menial than Property) when she was sold for Entertainment.

I have to get some money, Holden thought. I have to fix this somehow.


PROMPT: “Let me out, you bitch!” I screamed, throwing myself at the door.

“Let me out, you bitch!” I screamed, throwing myself at the door.

1. “Dude, that’s your mom.”

1A. “I don’t care. She’s keeping us here. *Starving* us.”

1B. “She doesn’t want you going out, finding your own brains, possibly killing a family with small children.”

1C. “You *have* been playing a lot of video games lately. Maybe she has a legitemate reason to worry.”

2. The nurse turned her head. Her eyes met mine. The lipstick red slash of her mouth curled up.

2A. I felt a cold chill. I was never going home.

2B. “Go back to bed. You’ll get your meds in an hour.”

2C. Her uniform was pristine, either a perfect recreation of an old-timey nurse’s uniform, or an expensively maintained original. It sent a chill down my spine to see it. What kind of person had kidnapped me? Where was I?

3. Everything had gone wrong. I should have turned the job down the minute I got those first details.