#MenageMonday Debuts – Week One

Three prompts living under one challenge roof?

Welcome to Week One of #MenageMonday!

 

Me`nage´

n.

1.

A collection of animals; a menagerie.

2.

A social group living together; a household.

Here’s how it all goes down:

#MenageMonday is based around three prompts, because let’s face it, when you read ménage, you immediately thought “Ménage à trois.” You know you did; you’re so dirty. I’ve always liked that about you. ;) So, anyway… 3 prompts:

  1. Prompt 1 is an inspirational photo taken by yours truly.
  2. Prompt 2 is a phrase that may be worked anywhere into your tale; it just has to be there.
  3. Prompt 3 is the ever-changing Judge’s Prompt. The Judge is the boss so she/he can pick any damn sort of prompt… genre, POV, word, theme, character, season, chemical analysis of fingernail clippings, anything.

Rules (because it’s fun to make bullet lists of demands):

  • This is a Flash Fiction challenge. Your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 200 words.
  • Incorporate each of the three prompts into your story.
  • Post your story into the comments of this post.
  • Include your word count (or be excluded from judging).
  • Please include your Twitter handle or email.
  • The contest opens at 7 A.M. and closes at 8 P.M. Eastern Time.
  • The winner will be revealed Tuesday morning, huzzah!

So what do you get for all your time and effort, you ask? Badges, of course. (What, you thought this was a funded operation?) #MenageMonday awards THREE (squeeee!) badges each week:

  • There is the undisputed CHAMPION. Rather self explanatory.
  • There is the JUDGE’S PET, for best use of the Judge’s prompt.
  • Last but not least, the JUDGE gets a badge, because Judges need love, too.

Our Judge for Week One:

The super-duper, extra brilliant, talented and lovely Scottish Word Slinger…

@SiobhanMuir

Siobhan Muir Author (FB)

 (She will throw that book at you, just fair warning)

 

And now (finally, I know), let’s get to the first challenge. Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

The Photo:

The Phrase: “raise the stakes” (this can appear anywhere in your story)

The Judge’s Prompt: uxorious (say what??)

ux·o·ri·ous/ˌəkˈsôrēəs/

Adjective: Having or showing an excessive or submissive fondness for one’s wife. (or as Siobhan puts it, “pussy whipped” :D)

Now go forth, ye devotees of Flash Fiction… the clock is ticking.

 

29 comments on “#MenageMonday Debuts – Week One

  1. Looks good! See you all tomorrow! Bwahahahahaha! ;)

  2. Just FYI – Don’t panic if your post doesn’t show right away. I get a stupid amount of spam comments, so post virgins have to be approved first.

  3. Shana Hammaker on said:

    I’m gonna have to sit out this week…FULL day ahead of me. But I’ll be sure to swing by the menage next Monday! :-D

  4. Awesome. One question, though, regarding the judge’s prompt: do we have to include the exact word or can it be taken as a theme or feeling or whatnot.

    Happy writing!

  5. Men Will Be Boys

    They all knew how silly this was. It was Mark’s idea, he was the asshole of the bunch, always boasting about how he ‘wore the pants.’

    “You’re a bunch of uxorious douche-bags.” They were sitting in Kyle’s garage drinking and bitching about their wives.

    “I bet you a-holes don’t even know what that means.” Mark said smugly.

    “I know what a douche-bag is; I’m looking at one right now.” Peter, Kyle’s next door neighbour, tossed his empty in the trash and eyed down Mark.

    “Easy boys,” Kyle said, “I think what Mark said is that we’re all just a little pussy-whipped.”

    “A little?” Mark laughed. “I bet Greg’s wearing his wife’s panties right now.

    Greg, who had been sitting quietly, stood on his seat and dropped trou.

    Everyone laughed except Mark. He was beyond Greg’s humour.

    “Let’s raise the stakes a little then boys.” Mark said. “Prove you’re not a bunch of wife-whipped pussies. Let’s have us a little race, let’s see who’s pussy-mobile has the smallest vagina and the biggest balls.”

    So here they were in their wives’ mini-vans praying to God that at least one of the wives would look up from her Martini and stop this lunacy.

    Wordcount exactly 200
    @DRyanLeask

  6. “You will be the death of me,” Alora told Jedediah, the hapless man hunkering down in the passenger’s seat.

    “What is so hard about whipping up a decent frog stew? Nothing!” she added theatrically, her hands waving in the air. The broom swerved dangerously for an instant.

    “Warts, Matilda is going to have a field day at the conclave,” she said, retaking the steering wheel. “She’ll totally notice that this runny, flavorless muck is store-bought.”

    “I… I don’t think…”

    “Exactly! You. Don’t. Think. At all!”

    The man shrunk even further.

    “I believe I made abundantly clear that this was our chance to raise the stakes and shoot for a seat in the Demonicus, but you and your kitchen flopperoo…”

    At that moment a flaming Sweeper 2000 that had been tailgating them bumped against their rear, chipping at the beautifully decorated broom-end.

    “Snakes and caterpillars!” the witch screamed and went down from forty to zero in a spurt, ready to raise hell.

    “Do you want me to call the insurance, hon?” Jedediah asked.

    “What do you think, you good-for-nothing uxorious man? You will be the death of me, I tell you!”

    “Sorry hon,” he said, and dialed.

    -o-
    200 words
    @righteousgeek

  7. Kate slammed her foot against the brake and screamed, the squealing of her tires created a cacophony of sonic distress as the car slid sideways into a tree.

    “You okay, Pete?”

    Her husband nodded. After fumbling with their seat belts, they climbed out the passenger door.

    Kate gripped her husband’s arm as a sudden gust of wind swept through the desert, When she opened her eyes, a marble sculpture of a naked man with wings stood before them.

    “What the hell was that, buddy? You could’ve killed us.” Pete shoved the statue with both hands, and to Kate’s surprise, it blinked. With a single touch of the statue’s finger, Pete collapsed to the ground.

    Kate jumped forward, but the statue wrapped his strong arms around her. “We must speak in private.”

    “Pete-”

    “-is a most uxorious husband, who will have no recollection of these events when he wakes.”

    Kate peered into his large white eyes, and nodded.

    “Do you remember the last task God set upon you?”

    Kate smiled. “The baby.”

    The angel cupped one large hand around her face, his breath a cloud of ambrosia. “It’s time to raise the stakes.”

    200 words
    @saraheolson

  8. Don’t Die
    by Lisa McCourt Hollar
    (jezri1)

    The day of the big race arrived. It had started out as just fun and games, then George, had said, “Let’s raise the stakes.” Now instead of just a few dollars, these idiots had bet their lives.

    No one really believed that this was going to be a death race, they just liked the idea of BEING Jason Statham. They didn’t know George had a death sentence, imposed on him by his doctor. George, being selfish had decided to take his friends with him and sabatoged all the cars.

    “Don’t die.”

    George chuckled when he heard Sophia say that to Antonio. No matter how uxorious Antonio was, he couldn’t promise his wife that. Sure enough on the 3rd lap, as the speedometer needle continued to rise, Antonio’s tires began to wobble and with no brakes, crashed into the wall. Soon the other cars followed. George being a coward as well as selfish, pulled over and watched all four cars explode. Then, to his amazement, Antonio’s door opened and he stepped out.

    Four months later at his trial, George consoled himself with the knowledge he would be dead within the year. Until Sophia touched his arm and whispered, “Don’t die.”

    195 words

  9. I should have been at work an hour ago, but she wanted to go for a drive. She often wanted to go for a drive, so that wasn’t really a surprise. Any time it was sunny, or the leaves were changing, or flowers were blooming, or it was dark, or even if the road was wet—she wanted to go for a drive. Today the road was wet and, uxorious guy that I am, I took her.

    I wanted to take it easy, wet roads meant slick spots and regardless of what she said she did not enjoy hydroplaning. Or, at least, it wasn’t something I was really willing to do for her. But 40 on this wide open backroad wasn’t good enough for her and it was time to raise the stakes. As we slid off the road into the ditch I regretted listening to her this morning. She was going to be a bitch to have fixed up and I was already just barely skating by on the payments. I should have been at work.

    177 Words
    @DavidALudwig

  10. Uxorious!
    After all he’d done for her, the devotion, pandering to every whim including this trip the Alps, she called him uxorious! Just like her to use some word out of one of her romance novels just to make him feel small and stupid. So what if he had had to ask what it meant?
    And pussy-whipped!
    Holy Christ, had she really used that term? Said she’d filed divorce papers and was moving out as soon as they got home; that she wanted a real man, not some pussy-whipped momma’s boy.
    He strangled the wheel of the rental car as he thought about her threat of exposing his “clever” bookkeeping to the IRS if he didn’t give in to all her demands.
    “Care to gamble with me?” she had asked.
    Gamble? Yeah, he’d gamble. And he’d raise the stakes, to boot!
    He floored the accelerator and grinned as she clutched his arm and yelled at him to slow down. There was a hairpin turn up ahead on this mountain road and he was willing to bet, fuckin’ gamble if you’d rather, that they wouldn’t make it through it. He’d also wager that the greedy bitch would end up in Hell.

    200 words @MAKozlowski

  11. “How’s that?” Jake showed Melissa the camera screen.
    “Oh…so close honeybear,” Melissa’s wicked little smile induced panic in her husband from the passenger’s seat of the Audi. She adored playing these little games with her silly-putty of a husband.
    “Close? But…you said we could if I got a perfect number combo.” Jake was frantic. It had been a long time. The uxurious husband drove an extra three hundred extra miles this week in anticipation of finally easing his suffering.
    “Yes, but you aren’t going 90 miles an hour.” She threw in a fake pout for Jake’s benefit.
    “That’s just reckless,” He started to sweat. He couldn’t wait another six weeks. “I could lose my license!”
    “Oh honey, please?” Melissa ran her polished red fingernails along the inseam of Jake’s leg. “What if I raise the stakes?”
    The buxom young redhead raised her skirt and shimmied out of her black satin panties. Jake held his breath in anticipation as she threw them in front of his face on the steering wheel.
    “You have one mile to get that picture….what’s it going to be?”
    Jake slammed the accelerator to the floorboard, his blood surging with desire.

    195 words
    @zombiemechanics

  12. Buffalo Madness on said:

    Hot for Uruguay’s normally temperate climate, Montevideo was unseasonably quiet. A city I expected to entice me seemed, instead, to languidly ignore me as I drove through the shop-lined streets of the Ciudad Vieja. I did not come ten thousand miles to be ignored. “Subir las apuestas”, said my sister’s uxorious husband in his toast to my travels. “Pinche indiota”, I muttered in remembrance and frustration. Suddenly parking, I desperately clambered out of the car in an attempt to reshape my thoughts. As I finally stilled, the city was not ignoring me. We stood silently together, absorbing the warm air.

    100 words

  13. Phyllis Carmichael on said:

    “Yeah,” I called to my buddies in the back seat; “I know I’m doing 40 in a 65 mph zone! Are you in a hurry to get there?”

    “Come on, Rick, you wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t so uxorious every time your new fiancé snapped her fingers!”

    “I’d be more than happy to raise the stakes and let any of you drive, but I have no desire to piss my pants before we arrive!” Whoops, grunts and other manly sounds resounded from the back.

    The next 37 miles were spent swapping insults, consuming massive quantities of rotgut bourbon and talking trash about what would happen when we reached our destination.

    Our destination. Thoughts flickered through my head. Anxiety, dread and fear of the unknown assailed me like a punching bag with Ali doing the honors.

    Our significant others had set us up and I smelled a rat. Our weekend spent camping, hunting and fishing (but mostly drinking and watching porn) was to be paid back by giving the girls a weekend of choice. This was their choice.

    They don’t get mad—they get even.

    We had arrived.

    The unassuming, discrete sign read: “The Oasis Beauty & Health Spa.”

    200 words
    pcarmichael1@triad.rr.com

  14. “I believe it’s time to raise the stakes, my dear.” She—it?—leaned close, tongue flicking out to taste my ear. Holy shit, was that thing forked?

    Through sheer will, I kept the car moving through the suburban traffic. Maybe she wouldn’t do anything if we kept moving.

    I cringed inwardly as her hand explored my thigh, heading toward areas that should never—ever—be fondled by three-inch claws. My blood pressure spiked. I knew she would see my reaction, but still winced when she cupped my crotch. Those blades masquerading as fingernails pricked through denim like tissue. A shock of pain had me swerving.

    “Baby,” I whined, hating the uxorious sound, hating even more pretending the creature next to me was still my wife.

    Her eyes flashed red. Red like the blood seeping through my jeans, staining the upholstery. Red like those damned rubies around her neck. A rare antique, the old gypsy man had promised me, that would forever change the way she looked at me.

    “Now,” she went on, her fingers poking along my thigh. “Which of these bits can you live without?”

    The old man should have mentioned that “change” would be from “husband” to “food.”

    200 words
    @caramichaels

  15. I was flipping through the dictionary one day and came across a word I’ll never forget. A fondness fills my heart every time I hear it vibrate in my ears, ‘uxorious.’
    Now I know what you’re thinking, why would having a whipped husband make my eyes swell up with unexpected joy?
    I’ll tell you my pretties.
    Because every day I imagine running leather boots up my thigh and having it contour to my body like a second skin. Pressing my firm heel into his chest until it’s imprinted into his flesh. It would be a refreshing change of pace to go more than 40 mph in the bedroom traversing the same roads we’ve before.
    “Honey…” His voice quakes with what I can only assume is ecstasy as I pour the scented candle wax on his neck letting it drip down and harden.
    “Enough talk dear. We’ve played your way for long enough.” I smile deviously as I thumb the chains within my hands. Their cold and send my heart racing. It’s like power in a link.
    “I never should’ve…” He begins before I place the gag in his mouth.
    “Raise the stakes and married a red-headed librarian.” I finish.

    199 words
    @theglitterlady

  16. “It sounds dangerous, Peg.”
    “Let’s raise the stakes.”
    The needle pushed from 30 mph to 40 mph, the headlights cut into the forest as the curves wound through the dense woodland. Her unbuckled body shifted with every twist; her head was in my lap. Was it Uxorious for me to give into my wife’s need to push the limits? Maybe, but her lips were worth it and now they teased and tormented me through my unbuttoned trousers.
    40 mph to 50mph and we cut through the silence of the forest. Her breath warmed me, excited me, elongated me and as I emerged from my cotton prison she welcomed me between her lips.
    50 mph to 35 mph the sudden deceleration moved her body away but she struggled to maintain contact, I released the shifter briefly and held her head the warmth, the wetness, the wonder of my wife as I navigated the hair pin turn. And then the spin, from pavement to dirt we spun, flinging grass and rock into the night I braced for impact but instead of a crash there was only the sound of tires churning sideways through dirt and our breathing as I came.

    198 words
    antonioangelo21@yahoo.com

  17. I’d love to participate in this, but I’m not where i need to be for today. I’m hoping this is an ongoing thing. ;-)

  18. It’s getting hot and sweaty in this challenge.

  19. I swallowed the last bitter dregs of coffee and saw the caffometer register 40. Christ, how was I going to survive the day on that? Yesterday was 65, and I’d barely managed to sleepwalk through work (terrific exercise, though), drag myself home, cook Kathy’s eggs and hash, and go down on her for two hours.

    I’d passed out at .34, halfway into Kathy’s fifth orgasm. She was pissed, understandably. She smacked my ears till they rang, gave me three Hail Kathies on her anal beads, and raised the stakes to 17 climaxes today.

    I finished up the 1.26, fueled by terror of Kathy tearing something. We’d managed to avoid the ER recently, and while I appreciated the applause, I hated that medicinal smell.

    This morning’s reading boded ill. I logged into Uxorious Eunuchs and asked about lingual fibrillators. Several said they were worth every bean, but EyeMKnotWorthy said a malfunctioning unit cost him an amputation, and worse, his marriage. Shuddering, I slipped on my jog-o-jammies and committed my oral organ 100 percent to Kathy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all hers. From now on, except to please my wife, I’d keep my tongue firmly in cheek.

    197 words
    @aftergadget

  20. Clare Stubbs on said:

    Mike hurtled the car around another sharp bend, without giving one thought as to who or what waited on the other side. The accelerometer reading soared and the vehicle as faithful as ever, did not hesitate under pressure.

    Feeling triumphant, he pulled up in his pride and joy and was beginning to brag about his latest conquest. “That’s how you do it mate, the girls love it!” This had clearly amused Ryan who sat sniggering in the passenger seat. “Anything you say, Mike. You’re just an uxorious idiot!”

    Starting to redden with embarrassment and rage, Mike decided that this was serious, no more games. “Okay then. If you’re so clever Ryan, it’s time to raise the stakes.”

    The car was prepped and ready to depart. Both lads were fired up for a bit of adventure and set off on what was surely going to be a flawless run. After all, they had both done this journey hundreds of times.

    But this time, something was different. As the car picked up speed, neither had counted on Mike’s wife crossing that very road at that precise moment. All sounds ceased and onlookers were met with an eerie silence.

    Word count: 196
    Twitter: @ClareStubbs2

  21. I looked at the speedometer I couldn’t believe that I was going only 40km. Was Tony sickening? He was just puttering along. This really would raise the stakes on getting a new car. Robin said I was uxorious about Tony, but really if you had a 70’s Mustang would you want to replace it? The fact that I was a witch and I had turned Tony into the car in a fit of pique had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all….I mean he was really nasty to me. He’d promised to take me to the school dance and then had not even showed up then I had found out that he had taken Becky Palmera my arch enemy? They had laughed about it all over school….well just because my magic had gotten away a little… well a lot and now there was Tony sickening ten years later maybe it was time to change him back? Maybe this time the spell would work. I said the words I had been saying for the last ten years and this time it worked. Tony was back. Thank-you he said and walked away out of my life forever.
    Word count 200
    @SweetSheil

  22. Couldn’t post from work today, but I’ll be ready next week. Excellent posts and I like the format. Good job Cara.

  23. “So, let’s say we raise the stakes,” my husband offered as we got ready for our trip.

    Raising an eyebrow, I scoffed, “Oh, really? Like you’d win.”

    “You’re friends don’t think I’m uxorious for nothing,” he replied, running his fingers down my back, across my shoulder blades, fully knowing what it did to me.

    “True,” I agreed. “But you also don’t have those speeding tickets for nothing.”

    My husband may have gotten a few, teeny, tinny speeding tickets from me seeing how well he could concentrate while getting roadhead. He could stay in the road but he had a bit of a lead foot.

    He pondered this, but still clapped his hands together eagerly. “I don’t care. Let’s do it.”

    I shrugged my shoulders. The points would go on his license, not mine.

    Later that night, we were coming home from dinner and I decided to have dessert … to go. John’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, trying so very hard to stay in a straight line. It wasn’t very long before the familiar blue and red lights were flashing behind us.

    “Son of a bitch,” my husband swore as he looked as his speedometer.

    I chuckled as I sat up and wiped my face. Before the cop could walk up to the window, I held my hand out to my husband. “I win.”

    @MLGammella
    228 words

  24. ***WEEK ONE IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED***

    Thanks to everyone for such a fantastic turnout! I now leave the competition in Siobhan’s capable hands. Tune in tomorrow to find out who won the inaugural #MenageMonday.

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