Friday morning I will be on a passenger jet hustling me to SizeCon. I'll check into my hotel, try to find a convenient pizza place and a brewpub, and I guess I'd better bring some melatonin.
For no valid reason, Twitter has identified my computer and location to suspend me from their service.
Scott Carey is a pill. As a shrink-fetish fan, there are several times I wish he would've just shut the fuck up and availed himself of his wife.
I've written hundreds of short stories for 20 years, for free. Now I'd like to see who would care to step up and support me on Patreon.
Did I even still have a place in the giantess-fetish scene? Here was April, and I was supposed to write a story for the informal competition.
I'm not going to stop writing size fetish stories, but I need to shunt more effort toward my professional, editorial blog.
Aside from the physical impossibility of the basic context, many of these stories are divorced from reality in that they betray how very, very little I understood how people generally operated in society.
When I was seven years old and I had my first giantess dream, I knew two things: 1) I'd discovered a part of my identity, and 2) I must never share this with anyone.
I'm looking back on other things going on so far in this new year. There have been so many changes, in fact, since I rejoined Twitter last April and started pushing my wares upon an unwary population.
I got interviewed by SizeCon, and the Cruel January writing contest is wrapping up soon. You excited?