Microfiction Bluetoothed

Bluetooth’d

(CN: Sexual Assault.) 

Bluetooth’d

Hey, baby

Have you tried it? Brain to brain? Here. Let me show you.
There, now you don’t have to go up the network and back.

Just me and you, bluetooth’d.
C’mon. It’ll be fun.
Relax. Why are you resisting?
Look! Your head is nodding.
You smiled at me, you said yes.
Dance with me.
I said, dance with me.

Wait. What? What is happening?
Oh, shit.
What’s this? I can’t move!

I can’t move!
Why are you smiling?
I can’t make you stop smiling.
I can’t make you stop smiling!
Why am I laughing?

You’re laughing at me using my mouth.

How did you do this?
How am I in your body?
I didn’t know the connection could do this.
Oh, you’re a software engineer? Oh?

What the hell is the consent circuit?
Oh, you’re the software engineer that developed it? 

Oh!
No, please don’t!
Is this a dream or real?
What do you mean, “remember”?
You remember this? This happened to you?

I know them. I know all of them.
Oh god, oh god. That’s me. That’s me.
I’m.
I’m.

Please, make it stop.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Bluetooth disconnected

What is the meaning of this?
Officer?
Officer?
I was just having a little fun.
It was only a joke.
She’s lying.
What do you mean, I confessed?

Oh. Oh shit.

(The idea for this story or prose poem or whatever it is came from this article in Salon magazine.)

And here is a counterpart to Bluetooth’d:

Microfiction: Enthusiastic Consent

Thank you. 

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