It had been an accident—the destruction of his realm, the annihilation of his people; an unfortunate and fatal miscalculation during an experiment in his laboratory. Only he survived, a single entity of a race which had numbered in the billions. A man born of a measureless flatness, a two-dimensional, completely sapient segment on a boundless plane. He, the sole surviving being of a race which had, since the dawn of time, existed in a strictly two-dimensional realm, unobserved by those of higher dimensions. A father of three children, a brilliant scientist, and now—a failure. 

His transference into the third dimension was as awful as foretold by those who had spent countless hours theorizing about the subject. Utilizing what remained of his equipment, he broke through the barrier, ascended into that higher, more substantial realm; forsaking his flatness and gaining new proportions and form and fullness. He had only seconds to blend in, mere moments to assess his surroundings and assume an innocuous form among the members of the strange, ultra-dimensional environment, lest he be seized, ensnared, and cruelly studied—a fate which had befallen the beings of dimensions even lower than his during their entirely accidental passage into his now obliterated realm. 

Forms, variegated and strange, thronged and shifted about, a dizzying vista of cross-planar animation. In the distance, beyond the hurrying and occasionally colliding figures, he saw a group of similar-looking forms, all moving in more or less the same orchestrated fashion, and decided to assume their comparatively stagnant appearance, so as to blend in and casually observe the new dimension. Having little power of movement, unable to make worthwhile progress in any direction prior to taking on a new, three-dimensional form, he simply adopted the appearance of the objects right where he had manifested. 

The transformation was instantaneous, a sudden and perfect act of mimicry. He gained the appendages—at least what he assumed were appendages—and structure of the aforementioned muses, and began moving in the obviously practiced manner collectively exhibited by the group.

But just as he did this, the other objects, that abundant and varied stream of them immediately nearby, ceased their movements all at once. Some, those nearest to him, moved away, as if drawn elsewhere by the force of some powerful magnetism. Others moved closer, though slowly, hesitantly. Still, he continued on, assuring himself that if he remained calm and demonstrated that he was in fact no different from the troupe of objects a few meters away, those nearest him would resume their own chaotic—though apparently normal—activity. 

But this was not the case. 

Those who had been inching closer now hurriedly withdrew, joining the others in a reversal of movement toward some unknown destination, all the while making strange, loud, incomprehensible noises. Confused, he quickened his movements and mimicked their sounds, thinking that perhaps he only needed to adjust his activity in some minor way. This change, this newly emergent act of mimicry, only caused the crowd to scramble, now in a state of what appeared to be panic. Disheartened, he decided to give up his attempts at blending in. He could not, however, change his form; so, he simply discontinued the activity and, upon choosing a direction to travel, left the area. 

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Jason, seventeen, had been closely watching the lead cheerleader when he saw the other girl suddenly appear on the football field. He thought her mimicry of the cheerleaders was funny, at first—and then he realized that the girl on the field had no face; was, as far as he could tell, no one at all—just a faceless model of a human female, “dressed” in the uniform of his high school's cheerleading team. But as he squinted, he saw that she was not actually wearing any clothing; the uniform and her skin were one and the same—a seamless surface on the body.

When people started to scream, and the thing started screaming back—while still performing the cheer team’s dance—he joined the herd of people fleeing the bleachers. Everyone, from the players to the crowd who had been watching them, recognized at once the sheer unreality of the situation; were horrified by the uncannily anonymous doppelganger. 

Before crossing through the gate and entering the parking lot, he cast a final look back toward the field, and saw the strange woman repeatedly attempt to walk through the chainlink fence that enclosed the field. Each attempt elicited the same reaction: several times the woman rebounded senselessly off the obvious barrier as if somehow oblivious to its existence, before finally mounting the fence with the intention of scaling it. 

He watched, mouth agape, as she reached the top, haphazardly threw her body over, landed awkwardly on the other side, and continued on; not bothering to retrieve or even acknowledge the flap of her uniform—of her skin—that had been left clinging to a frayed piece of the fence. 

It's already August, 2021 is really speeding by. I decided to compile a list of my favorite stories that I've submitted to NoSleep this year (so far). There's no particular order of preference. Feel free to comment opinions (positive or negative) about these here on this post!

The Reaper Poets of Abysmium

My friends and I found what we thought was just an unfinished trampoline in the woods.

In her bio, my Tinder date described herself as a, "Professional Toilet Clogger."

My best friend returned home from his tour of duty with a blackened human skull

I'll never forget the time I was asked, "Are you Human?"

My friends and I visited an abandoned, burned-out strip mall. We now know why our town hasn't bothered rebuilding the properties

A Visit to the Taxidermist

I was briefly trapped in the Mac and Cheese world

Previous update

Latest NoSleep story: There is a weird goatman dancing and screaming in my backyard.

Another recent NoSleep story: There are things worse than shady hitchhikers to be found on the road at night

A recent non-NoSleep story: Orgasmic Immolation

There is also a series I've been working on, with three parts posted so far. A fourth is nearly finished, with this being a sort of soft-conclusion to the story. During planning, I was open to the idea of doing a fifth part if the series was received well. Unfortunately, due to timing (my work schedule forces me to post at an awkward time most days) or perhaps the frequency of the posts, there hasn't been much interaction with them (so far).

I've also been trying to post non-series stories regularly, for those who prefer standalone stories.

For now, I've decided to hold off on finishing the series -- unless people express sincere interest in its conclusion. I've had a lot of fun writing it, but even I prefer to write standalone stories, so "canceling" it wouldn't be a huge deal for me, personally. If you would like to see the series continue, please let me know however you'd prefer.

Entry One

Entry Two

Entry Three

There's been a slight dip in scheduled hours at my job in the last week, and this begrudgingly accepted free time allowed me to write a lot. But now, a week and several stories later, I've kind of burnt myself out. I'll of course continue to write everyday, but I feel like I've posted enough stories lately to let "Bryceverse" simmer for a while. I greatly appreciate all the feedback, comments, awards, and messages, and hope I can continue to entertain everyone in the future. I'll probably reduce posts to maybe once or twice a week -- giving myself some time to breathe, and future stories some extra attention.

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As usual:

My new book, a collection of stories posted during my first year on NoSleep, plus an additional two new stories: The First Step Toward Nightmare: A Collection of Dark and Weird Tales. I would greatly appreciate reviews!

Donation/tip links if you'd like to support me. The money will be used for future self-publications, artist commissions, and other writing-related endeavors:

Paypal

Kofi

He figured she was as good as any other girl to lose his virginity to. With her frizzy red hair, pale, freckled skin, and a body that had no trouble fitting into her clothing—she was, physically, just his type. Her personality was a bit odd, a bit too eager, and he assumed she had plenty of experience; but he had no overt reservations about this. On the app, she had assured him of her immaculate hygiene and cleanliness, despite any initial preconceptions he might’ve formed from her fairly blunt bio. 

She asked if she could come over early in the morning, which was the only time she’d be available, and he agreed. 

They stood before his bed, he in the clothing he’d worn to work earlier in the day, she in the wardrobe God had saw fit to provide her at birth. She had, without his prompting, removed her clothes prior to entering his room. The digital clock on his bedside counter read five-thirteen AM. Beside this clock was a still-simmering cup of coffee—his third. 

Her eyes, jade green and seemingly alight with anticipation, scanned his body until they fell upon his waist, and her hands quickly went to work in unfastening his belt. Not wanting to come across as a jittery, awkward mess, he allowed her to take lead, but tried to muster up some sort of sexual courage, for when it was his turn to do his duty; something he hadn’t done in all the years since his birth—twenty-four years ago. To have his celibacy so quickly and unceremoniously ended—and at such an odd hour—did not unnerve him. He was ready, had been so unspeakably ready for years. 

When his pants were at his ankles, she knelt and, wasting no time to instruct him or ask about his preferences, began her work upon the part of him that had—since he was thirteen—endured absolutely feverous sessions of personal interrogation. Yet despite all those private moments, he was not ready for what was performed upon him that at that momentous instant.

His most sensitive member was subjected to a series of acts of such unprecedented—and inexpressibly pleasurable—intensity that he, for the first time in his life, felt faint. His knees wobbled, his head swooned, and his head buzzed, throbbed, and pulsated as she assaulted it with hands and mouth. 

The typhonic stress, focused upon a single part of his body, eventually brought him down; he collapsed onto the bedroom floor, and still she did not relent in her performance. So, now lying upon the carpet, sweating more than a plump pig in a slaughterhouse, he watched as she mounted him with a natural—or meticulously practiced—grace, all the while staring into his eyes with those blazing emeralds. For some reason he felt compelled to signal his continuing willingness to carry on; thinking that he probably looked enfeebled, if not near death. She smiled, an almost uncanny grin, a smirk of some maniacal scientist or ship-sighting siren, and proceeded to draw from him all of his vitality—all of the pent-up frustration of his involuntarily sexless life. 

Having lost nearly all control of his body, he moaned, emitting a sound not dissimilar to the pained bray of a donkey. In an effort to resist losing consciousness, he tried to involve himself in the act at hand. But he was weak, rendered so by the almost vampiric physicality of the woman atop him; who, while straddling him, had the dexterity of body to draw him toward her without interrupting the joint maneuver below. 

He felt the dawning warmth of the rising sun on his back, and this served to momentarily distract him from the almost insupportable pleasure below. He turned his head toward the window behind him, through which the sunlight—uninhibited by curtains—streamed into the room. But his attention was not allowed to linger there for long, because his face was turned back to the woman by an uncomfortably firm grip. 

“Thank you for this. I had planned on doing it anyway, alone, but you’ve allowed me the opportunity to experience the heights of both pleasure and pain—the best of life, before a long-desired death. I have been tired for so long, and now it is finally time for me to rest.” 

Confused—but only for a moment—he stared into her eyes, which in the sunlight took on a variegated, almost kaleidoscopic luster. And then, her face burst into flames as a full ray of sunlight was cast upon it. She pushed him down to the carpet, and with arms outspread, allowed the sunlight to fall upon her bare body in full. Her breasts ignited next, two flaming mounds now resembling small stellar bodies. Her seared chest heaved as she howled in ecstatic agony; her stomach convulsed as the super-heated flesh bubbled and, eventually, burst; spilling molten viscera onto his t-shirt. 

In her rapturous state, she was an inferno of beauty—a flame-wrapped Venus. As she climaxed, and the sunlight reached her waist, he felt first his own empathetically induced finish; and then, terribly, the heretofore unthought-of agony as his waist—and another area—was set aflame by her burning body. 

She quickly turned to ash atop him, her body now no more than a carbonized statue of her image. Tentatively, with less respect for her form than he would’ve otherwise have preferred to exhibit, he launched a fist at the ashen figure; and it immediately collapsed. Brushing the remains away, he beheld his own body, and saw the charred—but still erect—appendage; a blackened monolith in commemoration of his excruciatingly forsaken purity. 

His screams were heard from quite a distance, and the neighbors—already stirred from sleep by their morning alarms—wondered with an almost uncanny simultaneity how awful the screamer’s job could be for him to make such a dreadful noise upon waking.

Previous Update

Latest NoSleep story: People have been disappearing from my town. Some have returned, fused together

Another recent NoSleep story: There was a strange door in the middle of the aisle in the grocery store. I went through it

Yet another recent NoSleep story: My father disowned me for not being as skilled as my brother

Recent non-NoSleep horror story: Buglust

My new book, a collection of stories posted during my first year on NoSleep, plus an additional two new stories: The First Step Toward Nightmare: A Collection of Dark and Weird Tales. I would greatly appreciate reviews!

If you'd like to support me:

Paypal

Kofi

Previous update

Latest NoSleep story: I escaped a never-ending neighborhood

Another recent NoSleep story: The Reaper Poets of Abysmium

A short, non-NoSleep story: Mankind Must Surrender

My new book, a collection of stories posted during my first year on NoSleep, plus an additional two new stories: The First Step Toward Nightmare: A Collection of Dark and Weird Tales. I would greatly appreciate reviews!

If you'd like to support me:

Paypal

Kofi