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“It’s called Living Latex, isn’t it wonderful? I was getting so tired of your screams and pleas for mercy, but the hiss of your breath now, oh fuck, it’s making me so hard, even if it means I can’t rape that nice mouth of yours anymore. Still, I do have your ass at least, let’s bend you over…yes, that’s it, now let’s get it nice and wet for my cock, oh but first, I think I should put the hood on you, yes, that’ll be nice.

"Now stop squirming…just a little further, and pull it down over those new mouths of yours, yes, there we are! Nice and snug. Look at that head of yours, so nice and smooth now—you aren’t going to need those eyes or ears anyway, and just the hint of a nose…oh fuck, that new face of yours is going to be so hot…

"Yeah, fuck yeah, take my cock, the edges are sealed now, it’s never coming off, but you probably can’t even hear me as well, can you? Well, before you can’t hear at all, I might as well tell you what’s going to happen. The body piece, I’ll do that next, you’re going to have a big old bladder where that smooth six pack is now, and you’re going to be storing all my piss and cum in that. And say goodbye to your arms, they’re going to be bound to your sides, absorbed right into your body, and your legs will be bound up too. You’ll just be a solid piece of living rubber soon, slave, just an asshole, and a faucet where your cock is, so my other slaves can get a drink whenever they need it. A piss and cum fountain—fuck, I can’t wait.

Source: medicineballguy

jamesi2 asked: Which stories were you thinking of revising? And would the main major story be of the same general idea as your others?


I haven’t devoted much thought to determining which stories I’d like to include, to be honest. I’ve been developing a few possible collections. I know I would like the stories to share a common theme. The two collections I have fleshed out would be one centered on the theme of “revenge” and a second on the theme of “monsters”–I’m leaning more towards the first.

The long piece would be long and completely new. Then, I would also include a few new shorter pieces, and perhaps a revised or expanded version of an old piece. So, for example, the revenge collection would look something like this:

One long novella, (working title–“A Picture’s worth a Thousand Words”) about seven chapters long, or 25-30,000 words

And then, some shorter stories:

  • “Losing Control” (revised and edited)
  • “Unsuited” (expanded)
  • “The Silent Auction” (expanded)
  • “A Gift from a Magi (expanded and finished)
  • "Trailer Park Tango” (A M/F Mind Control story off MC Stories I’ve been wanting to rewrite as an M/M story for years now.)
  • “That Which You Hate” (revised and edited)

By the time it was all written, it would probably come in around 70,000 words of mostly new material. Hope that answers the questions.

I’m still taking questions today as to my possible collection of stories that I’m thinking of putting together, hopefully for sale on amazon and ibooks for less than ten bucks. At the moment, I’m trying to gauge interest, as to whether people would buy a collection of mostly new stories from me, including a long novella, as well as answering questions about form, content, etc. What are your thoughts?

novagain answered: I would gleefully jump all over this. Just out of curiosity, what kind of format would we be talking about? iBooks, Kindle, etc?

The service I’m looking at would have it listed on both Apple and Amazon, assuming that they wouldn’t reject my stories on content grounds. I’m still looking into that. On the other hand, I might also just produce a high quality PDF myself, which I can distribute independently. It all sort of depends on interest, I think, and whether I could actually get my stuff listed.

Have you considered starting up an interactive story that update twice a week again?

Well, I’ve thought about it, I suppose, but interest seemed a bit low, the last time I polled on the subject, and it simply isn’t a priority for me. Plus, I don’t have a good idea for one, which doesn’t help. It’s certainly something I plan on doing in the future, but if one happens, I’d pin it for January or February, to be honest.

A Possible Story Collection – Looking For Interest

So I’ve had an idea rolling around in my head as of late, that I would like to put together a collection of stories to sell online. I don’t want it to be a collection of stuff I’ve already written, but rather I’d like to write a new novella (about the size of “Letters From Prison” or “City of Bears: Series One”) and also pair it with four or five short stories, some brand new, and a few older stories that I’d like to fix up and revise. That said, if no one’s interested in buying it, then going to all the effort of writing this much new content would be better put elsewhere.

So, here’s the question. Would you be interested in buying a digitally distributed collection of mostly new content from me, priced under ten bucks?

My New Suspenders Part 3

It was all formal wear–and I settled finally on some pants and a shirt that didn’t seem too fogyish, and a tie…because it felt…right. I dressed myself, finding it more comfortable to pull the waist of my pants up over my gut, and then found some socks and shoes to wear, to complete the outfit. As I dressed myself, the voice gnawing at me to find something to smoke kept getting louder, and I was desperate. I didn’t care anymore what might happen when I was dressed, I just needed a pipe, or a cigar, or hell, even a cigarette–just something.

When I was fully dressed, the third set of suspenders I’d found hanging in the closet strapped on me, the door was unlocked, but no one outside the door. Still, I needed to smoke more than anything, so I went downstairs into the den, and there he was, the submissive I’d been chatting with online, and he was completely naked, aside from a leather collar and cuffs, and he said, “What would you like daddy? Pipe or cigar?”

“What are you doing to me? How are you doing this?” I asked, but he didn’t reply, just opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar, clipped the end, and walked over, slipping it into my mouth. I puffed it to life, and from the first breath I just felt…so relaxed. I let him pull me over and settle me in a large armchair.

“Don’t worry daddy, you still have to grow a little more, but I’m here to help,” he started rubbing my belly and I groaned, feeling him keep loosening my suspenders as my gut grew even larger, and then he had my fly open and had swallowed my cock, and I let out a deep groan, noticing that the hair I could see in my beard had turned nearly white.

***

“Fucking take daddy’s cock boy!” I heard myself say, and I realized I had blacked out again. I didn’t know where I was, but my boy was bent over in front of me, and I kept fucking him hard, feeling my fat gut ripple and bounce as I plowed him deep, smoke pouring from my nose and mouth as I did.

“Yeah daddy! Fuck your slave son, fuck me hard!”

“You’re gonna get it, how about I ram my fist up your ass after I breed your hole? Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah daddy, I want to feel you fist me so bad…”

I looked over, unable to stop myself, and saw a mirror in the wall. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I see I’m in some dungeon–probably in the basement of the house, and I’m…huge. Just massively fat, white hair all over my body, a thick white beard covering my face, and nearly no hair left on my head. My suit is gone–instead, I’m decked out in a leather harness and shorts held up by leather suspenders–I’m still growing, I can feel it, and I stare at myself, locking eyes with myself, and feel the last bit of me slipping away. I tense up and cum deep in my son’s hole, yeah, my son, my real son…

***

I stretch in my bed, feeling the silk sheets against my old skin–and give my massive belly a rub down. Fuck, I’m huge…but I don’t know why that seems strange–I’ve been this fat for years now, after all. I heft myself up, feeling my gut sag down between my legs. What am I now–five hundred? Six hundred? Who cares, it felt wonderful. I can smell my son cooking in the kitchen, and I’m starving. I pull on some boxer shorts and some suspenders (after lighting my first cigar of the morning) and lumber downstairs, where I see him, naked as the day he was born, cooking my massive breakfast. I love him so much, I’m so lucky to have such an obedient sexy son as my slave. I may be old, but there’s still plenty of good fucks left in me–in fact, I think I’m going to need one right after breakfast.

My New Suspenders Part 2

I don’t know what happened, I just don’t know. One second, I was closing and locking the door, and then the next…the next I was back inside, but I knew time had passed, the light was different through the windows, but where had I gone?

I looked down and saw I was holding a shopping bag, but it didn’t have any food in it–apparently I’d never made it to the store. Looking inside, I saw a small wooden box, and a few pouches of some black dried plant. I thought it was tea at first, but when I smelled it I knew–it was tobacco, and in the box, a pipe.I just stared at it, and my mouth felt funny for some reason, and then I was fumbling it out of the box and hastily tamping the tobacco into the bowl, and I have just enough time to wonder what the hell I’m doing before I light it and take a deep draw of smoke…

***

Fuck! I’m shooting, and the room, the room is so smoky, and I’m at the computer, and I’m chatting with him again. I blacked out again I realize, and stand up, and see that I’m still dressed in what I was wearing, the cum soaking into my shirt, and try to pull the pipe from my mouth, but it won’t budge…and I feel something new–hair. I rush to the bathroom, and I see that I’m changing again–a thick beard has already filled in all over my face, but I still have most of my hair, thankfully.

My pants are tight at my waist, and I loosen my suspenders. My gut is growing yet again, and I know it won’t stop until I grow out of these clothes too. Panicking, I rush back to the computer, puffing a trail of smoke behind me, and see the last message is an address. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have, really? He has me, and he knows it. I grab my coat and leave, hoping this whole situation doesn’t get much worse.

***

I find my way there, and it’s a house–nothing strange about it aside from the fact that it’s a big damn house, and I stand in the yard for a few minutes, watching it, looking for any sign of life. My clothes are tight on my body now, and the suspenders are almost at their loosest. It takes me a few minutes to realize my hand is in the pocket of my jacket, gripping a key. The house looks empty, I haven’t seen anyone in the windows, and so with a deep breath of pipe smoke (fuck I love smoking now, and it’s starting to turn me on more and more–I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to) and head for the door, test the key, find that it works, and step inside.

The house is indeed empty–but completely furnished. I wander through the first floor, and find a standard living room and kitchen, a dining room and den–where on one wall is a spacious rack of pipes. I go upstairs, and find a master’s bedroom with the closets full of men’s clothing. I try to adjust the suspenders again, but they’re at the very end, and I find I can at last remove all my clothes. I look at myself in a mirror on the wall–I’m fat, and hairy–so god damn hairy. I look at least forty now, and the clothes in the closet, well, they seem even older. I try to leave the bedroom, but find the door has shut behind me, and locked. I pound on it, but it doesn’t open, and I look at the closet. I know what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t want to–unfortunately, I don’t have much choice soon. My pipe is going out, and as soon as it does, I know I’m going to have to find something to smoke, and fast. What choice do I have? I start pawing though the closet, looking for something to wear.

***

To be continued: Part 3 incoming in a bit.