I've been informed by a poster elsewhere that my previous story was one word over the limit, so here are four more as penance.

They're loosely connected by a theme, and all confirmed by Microsoft Word to be 100 words or less.

Open to any suggestions/requests anyone has.


Exemption Denied

“A high-value-female lottery exemption?”

The official looked coolly at the slender blonde.

“Grounds?”

“I mean, I won my high school beauty pageant, so. . .” She giggled. “I mean, obviously?”

He sighed. Ideally she would have lasted a few years to put meat on her bones, but some bitches just had it coming.

Her breathy moan when he bent her over the desk told him she expected sex. As he set the spike to her ear and hammered it deep into her brain, enjoying her frenzied convulsions, he pondered that some girls just don’t deserve a last orgasm.


Business Casual

“Hey Nadine, pull your hair up and bend over the sink, will you?”

The secretary gave a wry smile to her girlfriend as she obeyed her boss, gripping the sink’s rim. “Guess I was . . .”

She was cut off by the sudden insertion of a blade into her throat. The other secretary giggled as Nadine jerked, humping the air, blood gushing into the sink as her neck was sawn through.

“I think she’s coming, what a slut!”

With a crack and a gurgle, Nadine’s head tumbled into the sink, her headless body twitching to the floor.


Bio-Gynoid

He brushed her hair back above her ear and scanned the barcode there with his phone.

“Please. . .”

“Get on your knees.”

She obeyed, felt his cock slap her mouth, and went to work.

He pummeled her throat for minutes, bruisingly hard, then pulled back to paint her face with cum.

“Good little bitch,” he said. She gasped as he pushed a button on his phone. With a soft sound, the microexplosive in her head evaporated her brain. Her eyes rolled, mouth slackening, giving her semen-spattered face a slutty, brain-dead expression as her corpse sank to the ground.


Kimmie’s Roulette

“Kimmie, we need one more!”

Kimmie joined a circle of five other girls and gazed, fascinated, at the revolver they were passing around.

“Loser’s dinner,” one said mischievously.

“I’ll start!” Kimmie said, greedily grabbing the revolver, spinning the cylinder, and holding it to her temple.

The explosion rang loudly through the party, then the wet sound of brains and blood pouring onto the ground, followed quickly by Kimmie’s madly convulsing body.

The remaining girls looked at each other, stunned. One finally spoke.

“I guess she didn’t want to wait for me to take out the other bullets.”