Back on 1 August, I wrote this:
Doing a 10 minute free write tonight and posting it to my blog. I might start doing this once a week. Just for fun.
I’ve been writing like a mutha, keeping well up with my W1S1 goals, but I never did do another free write. Well…that changes RIGHT NOW! [Man...have you all been waiting for this!] This time, I’m goaling 500 words (instead of 10 minutes). I’ll cut off when i get around 500 words, finished story arc or no.
Here’s tonight’s prompt from Write Pop:
An astronaut crashes on the Planet of the Werewolves, and it’s mating season.
I chose this prompt at random by closing my eyes and pointing at a line. Well shit. Here goes.
Planet of the Werewolves
She unzipped her polymer flight suit, letting the planet’s cool air whisper lines across her skin. The heat had gotten to her, that’s all. Not the bestial orgy. Not the kissing and sucking and fondling. Just the heat of the damnable planet. Sonja flapped her suit against her skin and squinted into the distance, trying like hell to block out the werewolves in the foreground, in the mid-ground, in the background. Her ship could be anywhere, but she thought north. She’d become so disoriented after the crash, but north seemed right.
A wolf howled and brushed her shoulder with a claw. She pushed away. Her bones shuddered as she stumbled across the hard ground. The spacesuit swallowed the air. Wolves swallowed other wolves as she ran. Hairy nipples stiffened. Cocks as long as her arm flopped about. Sonja felt her own flesh flush. She’d been warned. Avoid Serenta. She hadn’t quite understood what they’d meant by mating season.
Now she knew.
Sonja turned a corner past a jutting outcropping of rocks, and slammed into a werewolf’s back. She tumbled and fell into the green-tinted dirt, rolled, and found her feet again. The werewolf snagged her ankle, dragging her back to the ground, and pounced on her. Sonja brought her knee up, and the werewolf’s howl shredded into a grunt. Sonja got up and ran.
Her crew wouldn’t have left her, even if they thought her stupid entering Serenta’s atmosphere in the first place. If they had survived. If they hadn’t been thrown halfway across the valley like she had. If. Lots of ifs. She kept the frolicking wolves in her peripheral vision and picked an empty path out of the fornicating biomass.
The desire to stay, to abandon her crew and ship and mission and just stay, scratched at the base of her brain. Why not? She could love a werewolf. And if love had nothing to do with it, she could do other things to a werewolf.
She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?
A flash shimmered on the horizon, a four hour walk. On a planet of puke-green rock and nothing else, the only thing that could be flashing was her ship. She locked onto it and pushed out the slurping and slapping and roaring filling up the spaces around her. Her blood burned, but her life would end if she gave in to the temptation to mate with one of these creatures.
Her people would never take her back.
The sun geared down on her, and Sonja kept to the shade. She passed a few paired couples, but they did not turn to look at her. Apparently not all of the werewolves had a taste for human flesh. Ahead, a werewolf walked toward her. His snout rutted into the air, giving him an agitated, over-excited air. Sonja adjusted her path to avoid it, but when she did, it changed it’s trajectory as well.
[end of ~500 words]
Reflection: Not exactly my favorite theme in the world, but it’s always interesting to do something new. The challenges of this piece: (1) keeping backstory out, but giving bough of a reason why Sonja’s here, (2) keeping this piece from descending into a sexual fantasyland, (3) keeping out objectification, (4) keeping in some of the mating. I might continue with this piece…or not.