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MidReal Story
Brush of Life: A Painter's Dilemma
Anonymous
Jan 10
Scenario:My mother in yellow pantyhose and pink ballet flats gets fucked and I get cucked by a worm pit as I helplessly watch as she head-first gets swallowed by the worms and her legs spasm and convulse and I cry and rub my dick against her shoes and tights.
Create my version of this story
Jamie Hart
struggling artist,friends with Lily and rivals with Marcus,short black hair,creative and introverted
Lily Chen
art critic and Jamie's confidante,friends with Jamie and dislikes Marcus,long curly brown hair,intelligent and outspoken
Marcus Reed
successful artist and Jamie's rival,dislikes Jamie and has a complicated relationship with Lily,sleek blonde hair,ambitious and arrogant
I used to believe that art was the purest form of magic.
That the paintbrush was a magic wand, and the canvas was a window into another world.
When I held a brush in my hand, I felt like I could create anything: worlds, characters, emotions.
I used to believe that art could change the world.
Now I knew that it could.
Literally.
I stared at the enchanted paintbrush in my hand.
A week ago, I had been cleaning my attic when I stumbled upon this strange-looking brush.
It had felt weird in my hand, and when I had painted with it, my artwork had come to life.
Literally.
I waved the brush in the air, and a streak of purple paint swirled across the canvas in front of me.
I smiled as a unicorn began to take shape before my eyes.
My phone buzzed on the nearby table.
I sighed and set down the paintbrush.
"Hello?"
"A million bucks for that painting, Jamie," Lily Chen said over the phone.
"How soon can you get it to me?"
Lily was an art critic for one of the biggest newspapers in New York City.
She also happened to be one of my best friends.
