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the victorious

(flash fiction / memoir)

empty officeBOOM-BOOM-BOOM! My heart clobbers my chest. My ears swell with cheers from the crowd. There’s movement on my left and– damn! I’m neck-and-neck with my opponent, racing our desk chairs down the office hallway toward a computer cable finish line.

With a triumphant shout, my opponent crosses the finish line first. I spring up from my chair, smiling, and hold out my hand. “Congratulations.”

My opponent dodges under my hand. His arms circle my thighs. His shoulder thrusts into my groin and he straightens, my body slung over his shoulder, and suddenly I’m ass-to-face with my colleagues. All men.

“Champion!” My opponent runs a victory lap. Blood surges to my head. I’m stunned into silence by an overwhelming feeling of repulsion, not for my opponent’s behavior but at my own traitorous form, my breasts and my hips literal targets bolted to my body.

My opponent slides to a stop in front of the ecstatic, roaring crowd. THWACK! I jolt forward and squeak in pain as my opponent spanks my ass in front of the entire office. The applause intensifies, these men, my colleagues, begging for more. My opponent releases me and I drop to the ground as a pit of devastation drops into my gut and gushes out murky waves of shame.

I consider reporting my opponent, but, to who? The hiring manager? Our boss? The very men cheering six feet away? Humiliation rises in my throat and I almost vomit when–

office men applauding

My fear detonates into a sharp burst of uncontrollable rage, and with the fury of a thousand suppressions–

THWACK! I slap my opponent and rake my nails across his fleshy cheek.

The other men snicker. Fierce and steady, I point to the railway tracks prickling blood on my opponent’s face. “Good luck explaining that to your wife.”

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