Thread 24661483

Write a short story about this image.

>>24661483 (OP)
what are the grading criteria?

>>24661483 (OP)
Astrid was tired of modesty. She left the bar with her friends and walked through the stuffy air, enduring the perilous beams of the male gaze all the while. Growing up her dad told her to stop dressing like a whore, and the men made her feel like a whore. She got good grades in college and a good job out of college, but she felt like she lacked something in her life.
On the ride home from the bar everything was spinning. She saw her own reflection in the dark window across; she was hot. She knew she was hot. Why must she hide it? What's stopping her from yielding herself to the men at the bar and on the train? Why is she confined to her shitty desk job? No no, this was all wrong.
With the steeling breath of her Nordic ancestors, she lifted her leg, billowing open her tiny trimmed skirt. All that divided her taut little slit from the outside world was a thin sliver of black panties. The stench was terrible. A burning pungence saturated the immediate surroundings. The women gagged, the men drooled and gagged. It was as if a bomb went off at the fish market. Many people gagged, but not Astrid. She finally breathed. This was the stench of the Unknown, and its boundary had finally been penetrated.

>>24661483 (OP)
The man jolted awake.
"Ew russian peasant face," he muttered.
The man fell back asleep. He goes on to shit his pants and miss his stop.

>>24661514
TOP-KEK

>>24661483 (OP)
And just like that it happened
That was the Day
The Cunt
Came Home

>>24661514
>A searing fume entered the atmosphere, with a quiet hiss. It was as if all the oxygen was being displaced out of the air. On the eyes it had an effected, not at all unlike onions, and on the palate the burn of many cloves of raw garlic mixed with anchovies.

>>24661483 (OP)
A fish. A rotting fish. Nay, a school! A swarm! Beached, broiling, blistering in the sun. The fumes rise, filling the air with pernicious stench. People flee. Dogs whimper. Not even the birds will peck at such a corpse. But I am not like them. I am intrepid, visionary, pioneering beyond pain and flesh to reach new plateaus of pleasure. I am a human petri dish, worshiping at the alter of pestilence. So look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!

>>24661483 (OP)
Peter hadn't eaten for a days, what being asked to work overtime and promised over and over by his boss Steinberg that he'd be generously rewarded... but after the ride home... it'd be a few days more before Peter would again feel pangs of hunger.

I just jerked off to this. Thanks OP you faggot.

>>24661483 (OP)
She looks exactly like the admin assistant in my office, down to the puffy face

>>24661483 (OP)
"Won't be long now," Chloe said to herself under her breath, watching the innards of the subway tunnel fly by, her reflection in the window dancing softly over the many pipes and painted warnings along the wall.
The car was packed, as it often was at this time on Friday night, and watching her reflection brought her a sense of irritation. The work she had put into her tight, dark curls to prepare for what tonight was supposed to have been was now all for nothing, as "Jacob" from Tinder had never actually arrived at the restaurant. Not the first time, and won’t be the last, she'd thought to herself, and she had ended up staying the length of the reservation, several gin and tonics making their way onto the table before being carried back to the bar, depleted and covered in condensation from the melting ice.
This was the last straw. Stood up six times in the last two months, once by a man she knew personally, a mutual friend. "I just don't think we have enough in common," Randy had said, sure to get what he had been after at the end of their first, and last, evening out. Resigned, Chloe had been slowly starting to imagine single life for herself, and was now really coming around to the idea. Work, long walks around town, cooking, and her Warhammer figurines. What more was there to life that she didn't already have?
But before she could finish her thought, she looked just to the right of her reflection. A dull, yet still somewhat pretty girl, sat across from her. A bored, almost contemptuous looking expression upon her face, she lifted her right leg back towards her shoulder, simultaneously slouching down in her seat. A wry smile crept onto her face as she made eye contact with Chloe.
"Watch this shit," the girl mouthed at her, biting her bottom lip while slowly wriggling her hips.
And there it was. A rapturous fart echoed loudly throughout the car, effectively drowning out some safety warning from over the loudspeaker. A full ten seconds and still going, most people didn't acknowledge the girl, her posture too obvious for one to claim any other passenger had been the culprit. Most looked away, pretending it wasn't happening.
Chloe looked to her right at another girl, her head thrown back in laughter, slapping her knee and nearly dropping her cell phone on the battered subway floor. Looking back at the woman across from her, still in that lower body crane stance, pushing out a steady stream of gas nearly a minute later, crotch nearly exposed to the world, Chloe herself started to laugh. Not just at the situation, though that had certainly been the catalyst, but at the absurdity of the evening, the events of her romantic life, and how swept up into it she had been. It would all be okay, and very soon at that. She turned her head toward the ceiling with a grin, the smell now filling the car and too much to ignore. The subway really stank now, but as of this moment, Chloe decided that her life no longer had to.

Of all the girls in the fun #girlznightout group, Beth always drank the most. On the subway ride way back from Poison Girl, as usual, Beth was acting like a real retard, and, as usual, Beth's friends were egging her on. Two of them were only mildly traitorous, and could be trusted not to go too far, but Katherine was a 4-5/10, and jealous of Beth's greater romantic success as a solid 6-7/10. While Sober, Beth knew that Katherine hated her, and would not normally expose her vagina. But Beth was drunk and acting retarded, so she allowed even Katherine to goad her into exposing her vagina momentarily.

All of Beth's friends laughed and laughed, like they were real friends! But they weren't. The two mildly traitorous (and now mostly sober) friends did nothing about the fact that a photograph of Beth humiliating herself by exposing her vagina on a subway train (and making a face as if she's very serious about doing so) now existed on the phone of Katherine, of all people. And Katherine, evil, ugly Katherine, fully intended to publish this image. Of course, she would do so as if she was simply celebrating Beth's "free spirit." But Beth would be humiliated forever.

For ten thousand years, men on 4chan would gaze at Beth's barely concealed vaginal area and weirdly committed facial expression, trying to interpret both her intent, and whether or not to be aroused by the display. Katherine, being an ugly evil cunt, felt a microsecond of joy at most at betraying her frenemy Beth, and lived the rest of her life in misery. The two semi-treacherous "friends" who laughed as their drunk "friend" Beth foolishly exposed herself lived in comparable misery: one doubled down on remaining in a terrible relationship (eventually marriage) with a man who had cheated on her, for fear of being alone; the other did not so double down, breaking up with her "poly" boyfriend for emotionally cheating on her repeatedly, and eventually dying alone. In spite of everything, Beth, being 6-7/10, lived a moderately happy life, had children (and eventually grandchildren), and never showed her vagina on the subway train ever again, despite remaining a slightly sloppy drunk into her 60s and occasionally making family events awkward. She might have learned a valuable lesson about friendship that night, but didn't.

>>24661483 (OP)
NSFW YOU PERVERTS

>>24661860
>so when i'm at work, i uh, just go on 4chan?
>what do i do if i see any, uh, yknow... nudity? do i just complain?

>>24661483 (OP)
England, Oh My England

>>24661483 (OP)
Her mates laughed as she traversed the abject seeking to conquer The Phallus (castration). There were no men in the carriage: it was a performance by a woman, for women, about the non existence of women.

>>24661793
hold on gonna relight my joint for this one.

>>24661514
>Many people gagged, but not Astrid. She finally breathed. This was the stench of the Unknown, and its boundary had finally been penetrated.
Incredible

>>24661483 (OP)
The connection was complete. The work finished. I stared across from her in frozen wonder as the subway car rattled along on it's tracks. The lights dimmed and glowed as she stared back. She was very proud of herself. Or was that me again? The entire tacky scene was a violation of my principles and yet I couldn't look away. It was me. I was very impressed. What started out as routine neuralink hacking had become an addiction. An obsession. Our obsession. I say ours because it really was ours in every sense of the word. Telepathy? Quantum entanglement? So many ways to say the same thing. It was almost impossible to know where my thoughts started and hers began. The connection...She started to blush. It made my heart jump every time. She was listening. Where was I? I shuffled a little in my seat and pretended to be interested as various strangers moved between us. The distraction was just enough for me to gather my own thoughts. My own thoughts. That ship had sailed. The thought of this made me smile. Absolute control. But what's the catch? There's always a catch. It wasn't control. It was slavery. Mine or hers? It can't be both. If she were my slave....She was blushing again. Our eyes locked. She knew. Somehow she always knew. If she were my slave...

Then what?
What would you do?

I wanted to know but she just had to know.
You would....
She slowly began to lift her skirt. Her fingernails making the faintest lines on her thighs as they worked their way up.
I would...

I know what you would do.

It was not my thought or her thought. It was our thought. The connection was complete. Did anybody else know? What would they say? What would I do?

I know what you would do.

She was still listening. Stroking her pussy lightly. Teasing her clit through her panties as she stared at me. Back and forth. Press the button. She knew what she was doing. Back and forth her fingers glided on her clit. Press the button. She moaned softly as she pressed and stroked. Press the button. The button. The keyfob. In my pocket. It was already in my hand. I pressed it. The connection was severed. She quickly adjusted her skirt as I caught my breath.

You are proud of yourself. You should be. I never could have done it without you.

She was holding a keyfob. Impossible. It couldn't be. There was only one. Why would she have one? Unless, it was hers. Hers? That would mean....

It's our secret.

>>24661809
>>24661793
Love it

This is the Last Known Photograph of one Bethany Lovatabitz. Bethany did not realize that on that very same night, she would be on a one way ride. Have you seen this woman? If so go up and ask her what happened on that night. The dark night of the cunt.

>>24661483 (OP)
She's off to see the knackered, the bawdy, and all of fester; Chloe took the 'A Train' having nigh forgot her knickers.
'Omar' or 'Khazeem' or whatever's in his hoodie, he's got a bandana covid-mask and likes graffiti.
'Josh' or 'Steve' got his sleep,--he works for a living. Josh wears one button open, there's one bead a-drooling.
Millie's next to Chloe; (if your periphery's intact,--you'd know as well.) You may like MDMA, but leopard print likes Chloe's pal.

On the right of Chloe, why, is a stranger whose folks cared to tell--her--that in being an unmannered brat, she'd not fare well. Nonetheless, this yoga instructor to the right has secretly fared--as no lips suffer--tell.

Chloe's pals are crack up because Chloe's a silly girl. Silly just suits Chloe--well.

>>24661483 (OP)
It was a dark and stormy night on the open sea...

>>24661483 (OP)
But an hour into the Virgin year of 2023, in the concrete-and-rebar fallopian tubes of the London underground, in a rattling subway carriage wrought of cheap Chinese steel, a bevy of freshly herpe’d post-teens sat shoulder-to-shoulder like sardines (and yes, the spirit of that fish was in that place) in various states of catatonia, mania, melancholia, and intoxication; intoxication that, under the burning white hospital light of their carriage began to flicker and then fade, giving way to something crueller, sadder, older, that propelled the girls to insult one another with barbed and bitchy jokes, jokes that ultimately ground their friendship to silence, and all wished they were home, in bed, or that they had never left, that nothing good ever happened after midnight, that boys were all the same, that boomers were to blame, that the economy and the environment were uncategorically fucked and why should I ever try, that all the good books had been written, and all the good musicians had died in the 70s, that the PRC was the place to be, that AI was but another gimmick to placate those with eviscerated attention-spans, who was everyone, these days, even Edna's father, who had one spent the day playing crosswords but now just looked at his Youtube shorts, and even those didn't make him laugh anymore, and in the concrete-and-rebar fallopian tubes of the London underground Edna lifted her right leg in a half-hearted show of how-little-I-give-a-fuck, exposing her punani to her "friends" to try to cheer yourself by replicating the expressions on their shocked and a little disgusted faces, to drink love from when they called her "slag", the find something to make her excited again for this coming year, and all coming years, and whatever rhyme of perverse humour had concocted the fates and placed her within them, perhaps, her heart leapt a little, if I don't find something to live for, this year, at least I will find someone to blame, and she thought all the ways she'd like to do, and what she'd write in her note, and she decided that, when she got home, she would write that suicide note, and roll it into a flute, and cover it with paper-mache and silicone, and fashion it into the shape of a sword, and fuck herself until she came.

>>24661483 (OP)
WTF

>>24662275
Fuck off back to Canada vsnares https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYNwGWxqSTk

>>24662304
What do you mean?

>>24662318
I am baking a lasagne in your punani.

>>24662284
It's a tattoo, femoids use it to ward off predators

>>24662284
>>24662321
It is a knee vagina, you fuck it. All the kids are doing it today.

this picture makes me sick. the perversion of something that i once held in innocence. i spent so much semen down the boarding school toilets that i clogged the drain. when the plumber opened up the pipes, i learned a whole slew of new swear words. i used to be so fascinated with girls. how their eyes flitted around. the small bend of their lower back. i didn't know their secrets back then. i've crossed the horizon line of perversion, on the other side of an ocean of apathy. if i met helen of troy i'd shake her hand and say nice to meet you. i'd say yeah she's pretty pretty, but i've seen better. if i met god i'd shake his hand and say yes, very impressive. then i'd ghost him, like i ghost everyone else.

>>24662366
You should start eating menses. They're the veal of abortions.

Reed Amber was on a train and flashed her friend, who immortalised her by photographing the moment. All around her were sickened. One man on /lit/ was full of glee.

The end.

>>24661514
>It was as if a bomb went off at the fish market.