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PROXIMA BOUND by Davi Mai.

Humanity’s last hope rests with the colonists aboard the generational starship Attenborough. Bound for Proxima Centauri, a thousand years away. Catastrophe strikes when a reactor meltdown cuts off those in the ship’s front from the rear. Two factions must now struggle to survive.

With four hundred years still to travel, we join a plucky teenager, named “Thief”. She’s found a way through the ventilation system, around the radioactive core of the ship and into the front sections. Thief brings back vital components that might help the rear-dwellers connect the ship’s computer. …


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“Watch out for Annabel, she’s really anal about everything.” I remembered the advice clearly, as Team Leader Annabel strode through the kitchen towards me.

She could have been in one of the company’s commercials. Her uniform fit perfectly. Immaculate in every way, the golden arches on her black shirt pocket glowed. Her matching pants had creases you could cut yourself on. How did she make polyester do that? She passed the fry station, lifting a basket out of the oil and silencing the alarm with a slap of her hand. She didn’t even break her stride.

I noticed, with some satisfaction, that a few blonde hairs had escaped the tight bun at the back of her head. She was human after all then, not a Mcdonalds android. She blew them away from her face and confronted me. I caught a whiff of breath. Minty. Even her breath was perfect. …


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“Watch out for Annabel, she’s really anal about everything.” I remembered the advice clearly, as Team Leader Annabel strode through the kitchen towards me.

She could have been in one of the company’s commercials. Her uniform fit perfectly. Immaculate in every way, the golden arches on her black shirt pocket glowed. Her matching pants had creases you could cut yourself on. How did she make polyester do that? She passed the fry station, lifting a basket out of the oil and silencing the alarm with a slap of her hand. She didn’t even break her stride.

I noticed, with some satisfaction, that a few blonde hairs had escaped the tight bun at the back of her head. She was human after all then, not a Mcdonalds android. She blew them away from her face and confronted me. I caught a whiff of breath. Minty. Even her breath was perfect. …


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“The next act is ready, Mr Morris.”

Penny, the talent agent’s prim and proper secretary handed the clipboard over to her boss.

“Seems to be a family affair,” she whispered.

Mr Morris grunted, looking up from the clipboard as the house lights dimmed.

An elderly gentleman, dressed in magician’s attire marched onto centre stage. He stood peering into the empty old theatre.

“Well, get on with it, man!” Mr Morris grumbled from the font row as the pause became awkward. “You’ve bought your whole family, it says here. What is it you all do? Just another family magic show?”

“Ah well.” The old magician coughed and doffed his hat. “Perhaps it’s best we show you. But first, can I please have an assistant from the audience. You there, young lady”. He beckoned to Penny, predictably, given she was the only other person there. …


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I wake next to my family in the ship’s hold. They are all still asleep. My two sisters and brother snuggled next to mother. Grandma has curled up further away in the corner. I sniff the pungent air. It’s stronger than the usual odour of Grandma’s age. My dear sister has wet our bed again.

Silly bitch.

She knows we have to piss elsewhere, or they may find our secret hideaway.

The stench does not dissuade my hornyness though. She will be the one that satisfies me. I stretch, yawn, and then move over and mount her. She cries out, annoyingly, so I push her head down into the sodden bed while I thrust into her from behind. …


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Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

WARNING: NECROPHILIA

The leggy blonde’s white dress billowed around her. For a moment her clasped hands held it down, revealing only pale skinny legs. But her fingers loosened, and hands fell limply away to the sides. Unimpeded, the dress flew up and covered her face, offering protection from any embarrassment that full frontal exposure might cause. Below, a dark triangle of pubic hair contrasted starkly with lily-white skin.

“Cut!” Carl shouted from behind the handy cam. He jumped off the steel examination table and stomped on the leaf blower’s power switch. Three cubic meters of air a minute became none. …


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LHC (Large Hadron Collider) Control room. Outskirts of Geneva, 13 April 2008 2:37am.

Dr. Katie Adamson suppressed a yawn and leaned forward to silence the warning buzzer on the control board. Likely another mouse tripping a sensor, but she’d have to go check the damn thing. At least it gave her something to do; her backside was going numb. The control room chair didn’t quite accommodate her plump frame.

She saved the latest algorithm she’d created and put down her tablet. At thirty-five she was young for a quantum physicist. But she understood the fundamental structure of matter like no other scientist on the LHC team. This project was her baby. She had no time for partners, family, or even a cat. Dr. Katie Adamson lived and breathed particle physics. The world’s scientific community had the utmost respect for her intelligence and dedication. …


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Mister Nibbles brought me another treat in the night. I wish he wouldn’t, but I suppose it’s his way of saying thanks for looking after him. He thinks I need feeding.

At least this time it’s an intact body. Not like that time he dragged just a bottom half up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood across the carpet before depositing it at the foot of my bed. Gross!

I named him Mister Nibbles because he has this cute but annoying habit of nibbling my ear when I’m trying to sleep. He snuggles his face right up under my chin then finds my ear lobe and gives me lots of little bites. His teeth never sink in too far though, and I can tell he enjoys it. The contended “nom nom” sound he makes is deafening right up in my ear. And it tickles something terrible. …


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An oppressed people. A corrupt King. A violent rebellion. But never mind all that, everybody loves a royal wedding!

Evil Prince Erik has discovered the bride he needs to secure his grip on the throne. Provided he can take his hand off himself and grip anything else. But the idea doesn’t grip his betrothed, peasant girl Jenny. Already in the shit, she doubles down with an escape through the castle’s sewers. Her trusty raven, Croak, is never far behind, ready to peck the eyes out of anyone harming his mistress. Unless they have shiny things.

Meanwhile, in Rosie’s Tavern, Leo the Licker indulges his voracious appetite for stew, ale, and lady parts. The men of the village discover who’s been pleasuring their wives and all hell breaks loose. Enter Jenny, with Erik’s soldiers hot on her tail, under orders to bring her hot tail back to the castle. The unlikely couple find themselves flung together and on the run. Or in fat Leo’s case, on the fast walk. …


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It’s one thing to witness a lover’s tryst in the woods. It’s quite another when you’re an old witch, with those days of love, lust and youthful vigour long gone.

Olga would give anything to be young again. To relive those days when a tingling in the loins meant more than a bladder infection. When her faithful black cat wasn’t the only pussy worth stroking.

But alas, the last gentleman caller she received was many winter’s back, and all he wanted was a soothing spell for his rash. …

About

Davi Mai

Short story writer. Fantasy, sci-fi, transgressive. I lack a filter but try to make stuff fun.

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