Huh? Vore Day?

Apparently so. The above is a sketch for my 2019 Vore Day drawing. I'm currently unaware of how I'll publish it (and the accompanying 2K-word, Bukowskiian poem), if at all. I'll figure that out as soon as I emerge from my current pondering state. A Mouthplay Skippy  <--not yet a link. Happy Vore Day, or... Continue Reading →

Selfie

Once, somewhere not here But a real place There was a tiny man, as small as a toy He was good​ and smart He lived in a house that looks like mine But it's not mine But it's a real place A good place And in that house lived a woman She's not me But... Continue Reading →

Empty Pile of Clothes – 3

Where what happened, you ask? You'll find out soon enough. You, and no one else, because the occupant of those swimming trunks, the man that owned that towel and wore those shoes, is now gone without a trace. Gone where, you ask? You'll see. And maybe... there's something left of him. A small trace. I'm off... Continue Reading →

Caught

He couldn't believe he'd been caught, not after a lifetime of hard-won freedom, of narrow escapes, of costly solitude. Arrogance. That's what'd done him in. He'd imagined himself undetected after years of living in her walls, of waiting patiently until she was gone, or asleep, or showering, or watching TV. He'd thought nothing of the... Continue Reading →

Every Time, The Same

I can't sleep. I should have fallen asleep six hours ago, and I should have slept at least four of those. I have a rather severe case of insomnia, and all I'm doing about it right now, is having a cold slice of pepperoni pizza, and writing this. David Gahan sings, "I'm waiting for the... Continue Reading →

Tightrope

Today is International Giantess Day, in case you didn't know. I'm celebrating it in various ways, and posting this collage is one of them. I'm sure you are prepared, but during International Giantess Day you must have in your home ten gallons of nail polish and a barrel of lipstick of the same color, because... Continue Reading →

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