So… apparently, it’s my birthday today. I say “apparently” because that’s what my family tells me to be true. I don’t really know because I wasn’t there to see. Okay, I was, but I don’t remember being born at all. Could this be a case of post-birth amnesia?
Yes, that was a terrible, terrible attempt at being funny but hey… I’m sticking with it. In good honesty, I don’t really pay much attention to the date. I’m more inclined to notice other people’s birthdays than my own. Still, one can use the opportunity to write something involving such an occasion and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Here’s something dirty. Whether it’s tasty or not, I’ll leave it up to you. Enjoy.
“I don’t remember asking for this!” Brian protested.
“You said you wanted a lemon cake…” Amber teased.
“I never said anything about becoming one.”
“Hold still, you’re ruining the decoration,” she commanded.
Unable to resist her mesmerizing suggestion, he felt the cold whipped cream spiraling across his manhood.
The mind-controller always gets the first bite.
I’m tired. It’s been a very long day, and I feel like most of what I’ve accomplished will probably need to be revised or downright discarded, tomorrow. When things like that happen to me, I tend to go dark in the things I write. The following is a bit dark indeed but it can also be construed as funny depending on your point of view. Careful with what you fear because, sometimes, your greatest fears do come true…
“Dear, what do you dread the most? Being turned into human furniture or forced to masturbate before all of my friends?” Amber asked.
“I… hmmm…” Craig trembled, averting his eyes from her pendant.
“Relax… it’s just for a blog entry I’m writing.”
“Phew…” he sighed, relieved.
“Then again, my sister’s birthday is next Friday so…”
Today’s entry is a present for my friend Steph on account of her birthday, given robotization is a thing of hers. If you haven’t done so already, feel free to check out her blog, here. Happy Birthday, dear, and thank you for everything throughout the years.
“God, I’m so tired.”
“Excruciating. Look, whatever plans you made for my birthday, please postpone them, okay?”
“You don’t really want that, dear.”
“Yes, I do, Jane, so please…”
“No, you don’t. Activate ST3PH Protocol!”
Arms whirred, legs stiffened, and an oil change became in order… or should I just say ‘an order’?