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Friday Microfiction! [Writing Prompt!] (8/22/25)

I promise I'm writing real stuff too when I can, but these are fun exercises. :o) Feel free to join in below or just show your support for the writers. And of course feel free to spread the journal around to friends and anyone who may enjoy this!

Rules:

-You get one comment (4000 characters) to do whatever you'd like with. You do not have to use all 4000 characters, but that is the maximum.

-Please submit one top-level comment. Top-level comments should be short-form fiction, vignettes, scenes, moments in time, setups or vibes using the prompt as inspiration. You can respond to your own or others' writing as much as you'd like, or comment/talk in the 'discussion' thread. (Make sure to spread the good vibes and encouragement!)

-Horny is absolutely fine, but maybe keep more extreme fetishes (bathroom stuff, non-consent) for private posts. :o)

-You don't have to use the exact wording from the prompt in your submission, especially if they aren't in a point of view, gender or tense that fits your idea. :o) Sometimes prompts will be purely conceptual too so don't feel too much pressure!

-THERE ARE NO WRONG ANSWERS. Speak your creative truth!

Today's prompt:
Beyond the door was something that nobody had ever expected to find...

Viewed:	28 times
Added:	4 days, 9 hrs ago 22 Aug 2025 15:41 CEST

14 Comments on this Journal

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beforethefall

4 days, 9 hrs ago

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Edited 4 days, 9 hrs ago by Owner

Discussion thread here!

beforethefall

4 days, 8 hrs ago

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Mother had guided us through the thousand-day ritual countless times. She gave us our ritual clothes - that is how we knew it was the ritual day. She guided us through the long corridors to the sacred space just like all the times before. She showed us how to touch the guiding stone, and to test if it was time. Some say she once would tell us stories, but now, Mother couldn't speak, but her light still guided our hand, as it does this time.

The world had shook. Shook, and rumbled, and groaned and smoked. We were so afraid, and we cried and begged for her power to protect us; and she did. Mother is strong, wise and ancient. She is older than our ancestors' ancestors.

As children, we all learn the tale, passed down over generations. A place that Mother had gone to long, long before us. A place where the air was fresh and cool. Where water would fall from the sky, and food was so abundant one could simply reach up and pluck it from above. Mother would guide us there, we only had to be obedient to her wishes. This was Mother's destiny, and her will.

This ritual day, I was chosen. When I came from my room and saw that everyone else in my tribe was in their ritual clothes as well, I think I knew then that today was different.

Mother's light guided us through the corridors. Down the labyrinthine halls and passages. Through and beyond the vast, sacred spaces buried in mother's bosom. Where she provided for us, where she cared for us. Where she nursed our sick and interred our dead. Where we sought counsel in times of need or grief or sorrow.

We went to the ritual space. There were more of us than I had thought; the vast cavern stretched as far as my eyes could see, a sprawling field that almost hurt to look at. She took us to the guiding stone. I was the one who laid her hand on the smooth, black surface, and brought Mother's light to life.

Today, the light was green. It was always, always, always red before. Today was different, and strange. The crowds gasped and shouted as the ancient door clacked, hissed and began to reel open slowly with a deep, reverberant metal growl.

Beyond the door was something that nobody had ever expected to find.

The place from our stories, exactly as it had been described. Lush, and green, with so much open space we couldn't see to the end of it all. The sky was blue, and the light there was so bright it hurt our eyes. It took us hours to get used to it.

We asked Mother what we were to do, and she did not answer. Mother never spoke to us again. Never showed us her light. This was her final gift to us, before she left us forever.

She called this place Eden.

Lnarra214

4 days, 8 hrs ago

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@ beforethefall

Fascinating lil tale.

beforethefall

4 days, 8 hrs ago

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@ Lnarra214

Thanks for reading :o) I like to think a lot about these mass-scale, super-long-timeline sci-fi concepts and hope to someday make some stories set in these sorts of conceptual worlds!

Lnarra214

4 days, 8 hrs ago

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@ beforethefall

I look forward to 'em ^^

TheWolfsDen

4 days, 1 hr ago

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@ beforethefall

Dang this one was great lol. Reminds me a bit of Mother Horse Eyes; great job dude :3

beforethefall

4 days ago

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@ TheWolfsDen

Bro if I even set a single foot on MHE's path in your eyes I'll take that as great praise. XD Appreciate your readership always. <3

EclypseSkunk

4 days, 3 hrs ago

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It had been a domino-effect of fuckery for him. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong story.  Witnesses somehow suddenly able to pick him out.  Arrested for something he didn't do.

Wrong circumstances, wrong lawyer.  Convicted for something he didn't do.  Open and shut case, they said.  No need for DNA testing, they said.  No one else could have committed this heinous act.  So the courts saw fit to take his life in trade.  Sentenced to the death penalty.  No possibility of parole.

His only reprieve was that the system was slow.  And while the injustice of him even being in this situation was egregious, instead of being depressed and consigned to his fate, he decided to fight.  He had literally nothing to lose.

Month after month, he would write.  He would pen appeals.  Days would pass.  He would try to tell his story to news outlets. Weeks would pass. He would talk to anyone who would listen. Months would pass.  His appeals would be denied.  Years would pass.  The terminal date grew closer.

After the initial fervor had faded and everyone had forgotten about his cause, he still wrote.  Each attempt would have more desperation in it, and somehow also more acceptance... consignment to the date he didn't deserve but that was awaiting him despite his best efforts.  His third appeal was denied.

The one grace he was given was that an organization started looking into his story.  Started realizing he could be right.  Started seeing signs of a shady conviction. He continued to write. Their correspondence started to spark a glimmer of hope in him after all this time, after the weight of ennui had set in. But investigations and gathering public support takes time.  And time was what he didn't have anymore. Where were these people when he was first put in this hell?  Or anytime during the long months spent scratching the tally of days on the wall? Granted, at least someone besides him was giving a damn, but what was the point if they couldn't get through all the red tape in time?

It became a topic of division in the community.  On one side were the legal system die hards.  Cops said he did it.  Courts said he did it.  Why waste the time?  Versus the believers.  Cops didn't investigae fully. Courts convicted without testing DNA. Heat started to build. But again... would it be in time?  He kept writing. His fourth appeal was denied.

Even the warden became sympathetic to his cause over time.  Writing testimonies and affidavits to include with his appeal requests.  But if the courts put him here, the courts seemed grit and determined to keep him here.  Were he to die, the demand for the truth would simmer, cool, then go cold.  He kept writing.  The organization kept reassuring him they were doing everything in their power.

The fateful day came.  The man ordered his last meal.  Eggs Benedict, a side of asparagus, buttered toast and orange juice. The warden served it himself with a somber expression on his face. "Son, were going to have to take a long walk, soon," he said once the man had finished.  "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

He had no possessions worth gathering or keeping.  At this point the hopelessness had set in, the despair.  He was ready for it all to be over.

Down the long hall, they walked. Turning left, then right.  The slow shuffle of someone who spent what life he was left with writing, begging, pleading to be heard realizing it was all for naught.

"Son," the warden said, sorrow tinting his stoic voice.  "I'm so sorry."

But behind the final door was something nobody expected to find.

It was sunlight.
It was cheering.
It was the mechanical clicks of handcuffs being released.

It was freedom.

beforethefall

4 days, 2 hrs ago

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@ EclypseSkunk

FREE MY MAN HE WAS INNOCENT I TELL YOU!!!! AAaa! <3

I love this. What a great little story, thanks so much for chipping in this week. :o)

OtterOfAllCosmos

4 days ago

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Why did I spend tax dollars making fetish gear? I'm a material scientist.  We explore we try things.  We were developing a programable matter.  We experiment and learn from it.  Look.  Imagine a door.  You don’t know what’s there right? Beyond that door was something that nobody expected to find. How would we know it would end up looking like rubber and latex.   If that’s how it’s used so be it. It’s not good or bad it’s just a tool." Dr. Lane said.  He was exasperated. Drawn into yet another trap interview.

"But it is mostly used by the sexually depraved." The reporter countered.

Lane rolled his eyes. "I'm aware."  He said, frustration evident in every part of him. "But you have to understand. It's better then that, look I have some" He pulled out from his bag a canaster filed with the black goo. He tried his best to look excited but that was becoming hard to do with the reporter leaning away.

The black pool of liquid moved unearthly.  Having developed it, and using it himself so many times, it still scared him how black it was.  Maybe if they could make it other colors.  Would that fix the perception of the stuff?

"Have you tried it?" He said offering it to the interviewer.  "It's perfectly safe.  We designed it for safety look." Lane shoved is paw in.  The material crept up his wrist and solidified.  "See," He waved his paw around.  A shiny layer of the latex material became a smooth glove.  "A better safety glove and one that won't come off."

The reporter looked pale. "I don't know if we can even show that. I wouldn’t try that it’s sick and wrong." They muttered, coughed and inched away from the half filled container.  "Cut that.” He readied himself and put back on a look of confidence. "I suppose that’s useful.  Is your paw stuck?"

"It's programable. This will be on me until the end of the work day and then revert to its liquid state." The scientist said showing off the hand more.  "Perfectly safe. Go on try it" He couldn't help but feel frustrated by the reporter.

"Get it away from me!"

---

His lab partner was covered completely in the material.  He admired himself and rubbed his paw on spherical bulge near his crotch.

"Are you even waring anything under there?" Lane asked.  He wiggled his paw, bothered by the asymmetry of it and considered dunking his other paw in the goop meant for the interviewer.

"Na! Feels too good." The perverted Dr. Glen said, his voice muffled.

"Ya…" Lane said sitting down degectedly in a lab chair.  “They only wanted to talk about the dirty sex stuff again.  Miracle breakthrough, but it’s always ‘gross look what the pervs are doing with it.’” He said, getting out the canister from his bag.  Having two coated paws felt better at least. He let himself feel the odd pleasure of his fur being coated in the liquid then hardening into a slippery black layer.

Glen tilted his head. If he made any facial expression, it didn’t show with his face all covered.  Only smallest eye holes and  an opening over his maw broke the smooth black featureless head.  The maw part looked better than yesterday. It coated the inside of his maw, leaving a tube shaped opening.  Iterations on his drone suit were going well it seemed.  “But we are.” He said, his maw sounding full, but still understandable enough.

“I mean yes, but scientists too! Aaaaa! How long did you set this stupid cage for. Lane pulled down his pants.  The black orb covering his crotch had been there weeks and it was madness.  He whined pawing at it as he only got the lightest feeling from aggressively squishing it.  The feeling of his material rubbing against more of itself made him shiver and that need for pleasure grew.  Chastity he enjoyed but this was becoming madness.

The drone laughed and rubbed his latex like skin all over his fellow scientists fur. It felt nice and made him even more needy for release.  Knowing his lab partner, his lockup would be a long one.

beforethefall

3 days, 23 hrs ago

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Edited 3 days, 23 hrs ago by Owner

@ OtterOfAllCosmos

Holy shit, hahahaha! I love this. :o) It's not the sort of material I'd normally get into (see what I did there?) but this is a great format to take a sample, if you catch my drift. Super fun stuff, and ...honestly, informed by reality. You know this is EXACTLY how the media would treat something that had myriad uses, but only one of them sexual. XD

OtterOfAllCosmos

3 days, 5 hrs ago

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@ beforethefall

Thanks for your kind words and organizing these. It's been fun trying to branch into different things. I have been obsessing over science fiction right now. This has been a fun exercise! I think there is potential here, maybe something to come back to expand on.

beforethefall

2 days, 23 hrs ago

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@ OtterOfAllCosmos

You totally should! That's kind of the point of writing prompts. Stoke those creative fires, get the brain working and maybe fire up some novel ideas!

Back when I was writing much more consistently almost every story started with a prompt. XD

Lnarra214

3 days, 15 hrs ago

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@ OtterOfAllCosmos

heh I love it~ fun story, nicely written. give me a good chuckle too, I needed that.

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