I won’t state the obvious, the horrible thing that happened today. (If you don’t think it’s horrible, you’re a bigot. No shades of gray here. It’s just a fact.)
But in other news, recently I was interviewed by the fine folks at SizeCon. It turned out that I bought the first ticket to SizeCon ’17, so they wanted to know what I was looking forward to and why the convention was important.
The writing contest Cruel January is two-thirds of the way through. Writers are scrambling to finish their entries (or, in my case, summon an initial idea), and three flash fiction pieces have already been submitted. It’s getting tense, the pressure’s on… and we haven’t even started reading yet! When that comes, I hope all concerned authors will spread the word far and wide to get everyone to read all the stories (starting Feb. 1), and then rate them in a few categories to determine who has written the cruelest Macro story this month.
Occasionally I dabble in drawing, just to install my own illustrations to accompany my stories. In the past I’ve been borrowing (with credit) images from other sources, but I think it would make my website seem that much more personal, and personalized, if I drew my own pictures. That means I have to get better at drawing… but here’s what I’ve done so far.
I’ve got a bunch of other things planned, too, a chunky Trello list of ambitious projects and dreams, but the schedule to my life has recently changed. We’ll see what I have time for and what gets prioritized. Just know that whatever I’m doing, I’d rather be cranking out giantess/shrunken man porn. Believe it.
Aborigen 
2000 words is tight.
Almost as tight as the space between my broken jaw and the skull of the fellow who was sandwiched against me when Nyx tipped her hand and tumbled us all into the back of this cement mixer, forcing everyone through that unforgiving hole, breaking bones and ripping tendons as our hapless bodies conformed to the steel dimensions. More and more people were compressed into this cold and grimy tomb by the giggling giantess, until all light was swallowed by wracked limbs and cloying blood congealing with the abrasive concrete slurry. Then a sick drop and thunderclap of pain as she dropped the mixer to the ground, coming to rest with the hole conveniently pointed to the heavens to catch the rainfall, followed by the agonizing aftershocks heralding Nyx’s departure in search of fresh victims. Even if we were uninjured, the overcrowded volume and drying mortar would prevent any escape. Shutting out the whimpers of despair echoing around me, all I could think of was how much I needed to pee.
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Very nice. Cruelty takes all forms, and it doesn’t even need 2,000 words to do it.
And That’s Our Nyx!™
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