I couldn't help but smile when I added the "gentle" tag to this blog entry. Yes, because fantasizing about stalking a man is gentle. Imagining injecting a shrinking formula into his lovely, manly neck is gentle. Watching him fall into deep terror as his body shrinks and his clothes don't, is super gentle. Extracting him... Continue Reading →


I've always had a muse. For a time, on and off, my muse was an ethereal, nonexistent idea. Other times it's a congregation of people, a few words a friend says, an image an artist produces. My favorite muse is a real, flesh-and-blood man. His real name is not Hopier, as my real name is... Continue Reading →

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