Okay people, in honour of my first day of 9-5 work, I have created the:
Here are the rules:
1. Write a short fanfiction about ANYTHING you want — the goal here is to get as ridiculous as humanly possible. Oh, and you should probably keep it fairly clean — or at least make sure to put a rating on it before inquisitive young minds read your Snape/Dobby/Katniss orgy fic and are scarred for life.
2. Post it in the comments below, or on your blog, or wherever the heck you like. Just make sure you let me know so I can read it!
3. If you like the idea, share the ULTIMATE FANFICTION CHALLENGE on your own blog. Hopefully it will catch on, and WordPress will be swamped by thousands of terrible, mind-bogglingly twisted fanfictions in the next few weeks. Fingers crossed!
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For my entry into the ULTIMATE FANFICTION CHALLENGE, I give you:
The Boy and his Cake
Fandom: Hunger Games
Pairing: Peeta / Cake
Rating: R (sort of …?)
It had been months since the Hunger Games, but Peeta knew that even though his body had escaped the arena, his mind never would. His nights were tormented by images of Katniss dying. Peeta always tried to save her, but he never could. He woke up screaming every morning, long before the sun rose, and nothing could get him to fall back asleep.
After awakening from a particularly horrific nightmare in which Katniss had been ripped apart by mutts, Peeta stumbled out of his room and down to the kitchen for a glass of water. But when he turned on the kitchen light, he was astonished by what he found sitting on the counter. It was a huge cake, five layers tall, and two feet in diameter.
“What do we have here?” Peeta murmured, approaching the cake. It was made of chocolate batter, but there was something missing. “You poor thing,” he murmured, reaching out to gently caress the spongy cake. “Your maker forgot to ice you. Don’t worry, I can fix you. I’ll make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.”
Driven by his newfound purpose, Peeta rummaged through the drawers and pulled out the ingredients to make delicious chocolate icing. He mixed it all together in a huge wooden bowl, accidentally covering himself in icing sugar in the process.
Dipping a wide spatula into the bowl of icing, Peeta carefully began to ice the near-side of the cake. “Your curves are so soft, so round,” Peeta whispered, tracing the spatula lovingly along the cake. “I could just eat you up. But you wouldn’t like that, would you? You want the person who eats you to take it slow, really savour the experience. I can do that for you, cake. I can be that man.”
He ran the icing-coated spatula round and round the cake, moving faster and faster as he moved up the layers. By the time he reached the topmost layer, he was panting from his efforts. “Just a little longer,” he gasped. “Almost there …”
Finally he reached the tip of the cake, finishing off the icing with a sultry swirl. Then Peeta collapsed back against the sink, breathing raggedly and clutching the spatula in an iron grip.
There was only one thing left to do. Drawing forth a knife, Peeta carefully sliced off a piece of the chocolate confection. After the first taste, his eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned in ecstasy. “Oh my god,” Peeta groaned. “I’ve never felt this fulfilled before, you insatiable chocolate temptress.”
“Eat some more,” the cake replied, “and you’ll see how insatiable I can be.”
It suddenly occurred to Peeta that maybe he should have attended those Capitol-appointed psychiatric appointments after all.
Random Video of the Day:
The song itself is kind of bad. The video, however, is hysterical.
Michelle Proulx - Author 