Writing Prompt Challenge: Hug of Death

Writing prompt challenge: You are a villain assigned to a newly created (?) heroine. There is but one problem: she finds everything cute and cuddles it. You included.


“This bitch is nuts, boss, we’re gonna die out here!”

15 years ago, I was a tenured professor with a few controversial ideas. 15 experiments later, and my tenure was revoked. 15 drone operated massacres earned me a 15-minute conversation with the head my newer, less academia-oriented association. 15 million dollars in funding for further experiments, complete with a fully stocked laboratory and a militia of henchmen, was the result.

15 seconds of facing her made me consider teaching again.

It’s a standard order of operations in this line of work. An entry, a smokescreen, a show of force with the first responders, a well-secured bounty of profitable contraband in the bag, and an easy exit. That’s how it usually went. Well-calculated chaos. In the worst-case scenario, I’d have to have some of my men polish the Sunset Behemoth’s hull as punishment for sloppiness that cost us time. At the moment, I may not have enough men with complete bones left for a proper car wash.


“Augh! God fucking dammit! Boss!”

The squad captain’s communicator cutting out spared me the sound of his final moments at close range, but I could still hear it. Even while behind over a foot of Sunset Behemoth’s reinforced plating, I heard a crude chorus of wet chicken bones in a trash compactor. The HUD’s light flickered in and out of life as the third backup power source was tapped.

Warning: Coolant fluid breach in Engine 5. Initiating reserve cooling-BBBZTTzZsZZT

Just moments earlier, when the sound of bullets uselessly skittering off Behemoth’s plating had initially stopped, I’d assumed we had scared off the cavalry and were in the clear. She replaced them.


Even from a football field away, I could tell that she could wear the overturned vehicles for slippers. Tall enough to face me in the control center of my armored masterpiece. With just 3 strides, she closed the distance and had my masterpiece in a crushing bear hug. Spider webs of glass fissures spread across the windows like a wind-fed wildfire.

I was taken aback, but still unshaken. Just another over-sized dog of the self-righteous status quo, I thought. Probably still a rookie. Definitely not at the top of her class for critical thinking.

Even while constricted, I could fire a single homing rocket from one of Sunset Behemoth’s unobstructed barrels that turned her bus-sized shoulder into smoldering mincemeat. Her grip loosened. I was satisfied. Then her blood hit the street stories below, and I paid for my hubris.

From the giant’s pools of spilled blood droplets rose smaller but perfectly identical copies. Drastically shorter but still Amazonian compared to a human woman. They swarmed Sunset Behemoth’s foundation like fire ants.The interior began to tilt at an alarming rate.

With Sunset Behemoth still immobilized by the giantess’s hug, I ordered the bulk of my men to descend and engage the screaming army of eight-foot tall schoolgirls below before they could capsize the machine. The final hug of their lives awaited each of them on the ground.

From one camera that still remained online, I could see what remained of that shoulder I’d obliterated with the first rocket. It had reformed. Creating more clones with another would not do.

As the cockpit turned nearly 90 degrees, I could only be grateful that I had made sure to install a single seat belt in Sunset Behemoth’s control center chair.


Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.