I have no idea how to introduce this one without giving crucial details of the plot away, so I shall just say that I read the prompt with glee and then the story with more glee (gleer?). This is ace.


PROMPT PROVIDER: @upsteeplebat


TITLE: Untitled


The re-release of Beauty and the Beast had created untold demand for replica dinnerware. The Internet of Things had exploded as apps hooked up to everyday items gave unlimited novelty to eager customers. No one had cracked the final character, the most popular character of all – Mrs Potts. Teapots were just too stout, too stubborn.
Bill fucking hated that teapot. Then as the hours melted into days he began to depend on it. Revere it.

“It’s not clean enough. It needs to shine!”
Bill raided the cleaner’s cupboard for anything he could use to buff it up. “Furniture polish should do it, right?” because by then Bill just saw everything inanimate as equals.

Buffing it up as best as he could, Bill turned to his code once more to try and coax a spin out of the teapot.
Clicking ‘run’ was the last thing Bill ever did, though he managed to get a few 4 star reviews for “Appsolute Mayhem”, his work on dispersing iron filings into pretty shapes, in the minutes before all the teapots gained sentience and spontaneously fired gallons of tea out of their spouts at their perceived torturers.

Teapots don’t know what tea tastes like, they don’t have tastebuds. They thought we just hated them.

If humanity had time longer than the 5 minutes it took for the majority to be wiped out, maybe they would’ve figured out just how all these teapots generated the boiling apocalyptic flood out of nothing. The teapots found each other and slowly began to exploit the Internet of Things. Except jars of gherkins, because no fucker can get on with them.

Within days, the world was populated by angry shelving units, white goods and throws. People were locked into cupboards until starvation or worse, death by a thousand cuts by MDF.

A small group of survivors would band together to form a resistance. They knew the furniture’s weakness – fire. All it would take was careful planning, collecting enough resources to burn them all and oh don’t be silly, they were surrounded by furniture. Even remote huts have stools. Humanity was wiped out and the planet was overrun by angry chaise longues and out of control breakfast bars.

All Bill wanted was to make a Mrs Potts.

Fuck Mrs Potts.

PROMPT: An app for dancing teapots fuses with furniture polish causing a SENTIENT FURNITURE APOCALYPSE