I love how shrinking her suddenly makes them equals as she finds her footing in absurdity.
Best posts made by Kisupure
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RE: Swallow Me, Like Your Little Pill (Slow burn | Intimate| Dark | Size-kink | Erotic Vore)
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RE: Petrichor - a novel in "open beta" - [M/f, minigiant, post-apocalyptic dystopia, slavery, military setting]
Part 3
“No you don’t.”
Rice had her by the arm before she could get far. Gray struggled, tried peeling his fingers off of her, but he was not letting go.
“Rice!”
“It won’t help anything! You’ll just get yourself killed.”
Gray watched the flare smoke disappear with the next gust, and she sat down. Rice soon joined her. They stared at the hills together in the late afternoon sun, shining like polished brass against a backdrop of rosy mountains.
“Why?” Gray said after a while. “Why now?”
“I don’t know. I’m just told to make these things happen, never told why.”
The wind blew dust in her eyes and she squinted.
“What do we do now?”
It felt so strange to remember, over and over, that there was nowhere she had to be, no scheduled duties, no ruck. The emptiness scared her, and Gray suddenly found herself desperate for something to do. But camp getting wiped from the map right before her eyes, the horror of it, wanted to chain her to the rock.
“We should go. C’mon.”
Hesitation.
“Gray.”
She let herself be led away, and together they headed north-west, into unfamiliar hills and a few miles afield from the firefight raging on in the embrace of the mountains.
/* /* /*
It was some hours before they found the spring, deep in a narrow cleft in the foothills, and by then the human was exhausted. It wasn’t much more than a muddy spot on the ground, but when he dug away at the dirt a puddle formed, which he bent forward to drink from.
Gray had to sit and catch her breath. Her skin radiated heat in a dangerous way, and the earth was still too warm to lay on. But Rice had a remedy: at the top of a pile of sand, he pulled aside a thick shrub to reveal an opening in the rock. It was just tall enough for a human, and the giant had to stoop to fit.
“It’s cooler in here,” he said. “Can you walk?”
Barely. Gray nodded, and made her slow way up to him just inside. Rice crouched and produced a small flashlight so that they could peer into the darkness. After confirming that there were no recent signs of habitation, he instructed her to strip and lay on the ground.
“You’re sunsick,” he said. “I’ll get you water. Keep talking to me, don’t fall asleep.”
He left quickly, tearing off his gear as he went.
She looked around a little, and even in this state she noticed this cave was more of a uniform tunnel. “What is this place?” Her voice was weak.
“It’s a prospector’s mine,” he called out to her from the puddle outside. “There’s a handful of them in the area, much older than the war. There’s even one further up the canyon with a mine cart still in it. It’s remote, though, and I need a rope to get there.”
“That explains it.”
It was a familiar sort of space, and she recognized it from the several years of her own childhood spent deep underground looking for bits of phosphorus or titanium, working by candlelight because the company was too cheap for electricity. She could tell that this was an old mine, though. The air was stale, and the dark had a watchfulness to it, like it had long since been reclaimed by the earth and taken on life beyond the hands of its maker.
“Explains what?”
She looked down into the inky blackness of the passage, listening to her breath. It mesmerized her, and she stared until colors started to swirl in her eyes.
“Gray? You still with me?”
“Yeah.”
Rice came up and knelt beside her, a looming shadow that was becoming all-too familiar. He pressed the mouthpiece of his water bladder to her lips and she drank deeply.
/* /* /*
That was where they fell asleep together, splayed on his bedroll with nothing on between them but her underwear and their skin barely touching for the sticky heat.
At some point in the night they were woken by the sound of thunder, lightning falling across their bodies in harsh, brief silhouette. They laid in silence as the rain came in shortly after, and when they woke up the next morning, it was still coming down. The gulch outside had transformed into a rushing stream overnight, brown with silt.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked.
Rice sat just inside of the mouth of the tunnel, gazing at the rain. He was out of smokes.
“It’s better to go north than east,” he rumbled. “East of the mountains gets so hot you won’t last half a day without water.”
“Are you coming with me?”
Rice studied her feet for a little while before turning his blue eyes back outside.
“I’ll take you as far as the pass at the Rocks. I’ll make sure you get out safely. Someone probably wouldn’t mind a trained shot like you to bring up the rear of their—“
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
He thought for a moment before rising, blocking the entrance with his bulk, and stepping out into the rain. Outside he stood, naked in the downpour, and turned his gaze upward toward the leaden sky.
“You smell that?” he called to her. “Who would’ve thought wet dirt and granite could smell so fucking nice. Come out here, the heat’s finally died down.”
Gray stepped out into the rain, skin turning to gooseflesh at the sensation. It was good, so, so good, and she couldn’t help but gawk up at the sky like he had, and open her mouth to catch some of the falling water. The muddy stream came up to her ankles, sluicing past them and disappearing down the edge of the lower rockfall, sounding far more torrential than it was. Her toes sank into mud.
Is this was it was like to have somebody? They made a strange pair, but the coarseness of his entire being, his body and thoughts and words, was not at odds with her. It wasn’t even his size, or his pheromone, or his razor-sharp senses that for now were occupied with marveling at the rain like a child. Rice, and all the sons of the Algorithm, were an attempt at something new, and it was that newness that drew her to him. The world was home to humans for untold generations; Gray knew rain deep in her bones, but maybe Rice didn’t. He was an outsider, even the desert, and it could never be any other way.
The human kissed his hipbone. When he hoisted her up she wrapped her legs around his ribs and crushed them together, mouths tangling.
“Take me as far as you can.” Gray whispered it like a secret. “I’ll need your protection.”
When his hand moved under her, slipping aside the rain-soaked garment clinging to her core, the human sighed.
/* /* /*
It rained for the whole day, and by the end of it hunger gnawed at them both. The next morning Rice went out, scrambling up the side of the canyon to hunt for something where it was drier. He returned two hours later with nothing, and this had him on edge.
Gray had spent the prior evening tying their clothes together and washing them in the rain, stomping out the blood and sweat and replacing them with dark silt. When it was time to leave, they were dry.
Rice knelt with his pack, though, frowning at it.
“What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, instead reaching in with one big hand and pulling out a slim black panel, attached to the top of which was the short antenna. He ripped cables out from it until it was free except for one: the earpiece. After getting one last look at it, he threw it into the darkness where it landed with a clatter.
“When they come looking for the transponder, I’d rather not be wearing it.”
The weather was good, sky dotted with clouds, and soon they were off again, headed north-west by game trail. When they came across a fat rattlesnake, Rice made quick work of it, stopping only once they reached some shade to clean and cook the kill over an alcohol stove no bigger than the palm of her hand, bite by bite. Gray could have eaten the whole thing, but after he passed her three large puffs of white meat, she assured him she was full, and silently he devoured the rest before continuing on their way.
It would have been much quicker to descend into the lowlands to make use of a road, but that way safety was only had in numbers or speed, and the pair had neither. After two days and precious little food, they came to the great swath of floodplain where it all began, the place where Fox called home for five years. The arroyo, nearly a mile wide, cut deep into the hills so that they had no choice but to cross it.
Rice surveyed the land in a new way, and Gray had to ask: “This isn’t your territory anymore, is it?”
“No. We’ll have to pass quickly or we’ll be noticed by the sentinel. In fact, he’s probably already looking for me. C’mon.”
He took a step, but something in the basin flashed with reflected sunlight, and she stopped him. Gray pointed, and he pulled out his binos.
“People,” he said, adjusting the focus dial. His eyes narrowed into them. “No… corpsmen. A dozen, maybe.”
Breath caught in Gray’s throat. “Can you see their colors? Are they Fox?”
“We’re too far away.” He put the instrument away and shouldered his ruck. “C’mon, we’ll be able to keep out of sight easy enough.”
“Keep out of sight?”
“They’re not your friends anymore, Gray. They will kill you.”
The trail they followed grew unacceptably steep and narrow, and the two found themselves climbing down the ridge and getting dirt down their sleeves. They worked their way to the floor of the arroyo carefully, as kicking up too much dust would give them away.
Once at the bottom, Rice covered his head of dark hair with the shade cloth, and after a wordless nod they darted out across the floodplain. But Gray’s curiosity got the better of her, the ache for old camaraderie, and they were a scant hundred yards away from the group of corpsmen when she caught Rice’s belt loop to him.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “We have to move!”
“Give me your binos.”
“They won’t fit you.”
“I’ll look with one eye then.”
Gray held her breath as she propped the heavy pair of binoculars up on a rock and pressed one open eye to the lens. The angle wasn’t good, but it was enough, and she recoiled with a gasp. They were still too far away for her to read the lapels, but they were close enough for her to recognize faces.
“Holy shit,” she panted. “It’s brown toon. It’s…”
But a twig snapped somewhere and the giant shoved her to the dirt on instinct. Sider in hand he whirled around, and a few yards off, ducked down, was another familiar face.
Another Rice.
Wild-eyed, Gray looked him over. His hair was different; longer and pulled into a knot on his head. It didn’t appear that he shaved nearly as often either. And there was a jagged scar along his jaw.
“You’ve got gall coming here 402,” the strange Anak rasped, and lifted his own sider to meet them. Without otherwise moving, his scorching blue eyes darted to the human laying prone on the ground. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Gray, was it?” He chuckled quietly, and it was an ugly sound. “How’s Finch? She still Fox’s resident shark, or did she finally get her deathwish?”
Gray balled her hands into fists.
Rice’s face was a mask of silent fury, and she was surprised when he spoke with measured calm. “You pull that trigger and they’ll be all over us.”
“I’m aware of that. Which is why you’re going to come with me. If you do, I’ll even let the ‘yuman go.”
They stared each other down for a few very long moments.
“What’s it gonna be, Rice?”
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RE: Petrichor - a novel in "open beta" - [M/f, minigiant, post-apocalyptic dystopia, slavery, military setting]
Been banging out the modified ending this week after sitting on this since last year. It’s coming together!
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RE: Petrichor - a novel in "open beta" - [M/f, minigiant, post-apocalyptic dystopia, slavery, military setting]
Part 4
“Think about what you’re doing.”
“I don’t need to.”
The other clone of Elliot Anders Rice was just like hers: quiet, clipped, and self-assured. In motion they both might’ve been unstoppable, and decidedly at rest, unmovable. Together they were a tangle of wills.
“You’re 386,” her Rice noticed. “How long do you have?”
“Another season.”
“Then why do you care if we live or die? Your service is almost done, you’ll be euthanized at the end of it. Let us go. Central won’t even know.”
“Because I’ve been alive long enough to come to get sentimental about things, 402. To like things. Want things. And I want to see the look on the your face when you get dragged away.”
The other sentinel shifted the slightest bit, which must’ve pushed the snake coiled at the base of the bush next to him into agitation. The sound of its rattle filled the air, and it was all the opening that Rice—R-402—needed.
The bullet tore through the other Anak’s neck, misting them both in a spray of red as he fell, gurgling and twitching for a moment before laying still. The snake elegantly fled.
There were shouts coming from the knot of corpsmen, but Rice spoke with only the slightest edge to his voice.
“That mistake cost him his life: ’Naks aren’t supposed to want things.”
“But you want things,” Gray said.
“Nobody’s perfect. C’mon!”
Rice rose to a crouch but Gray leaped up. She surprised herself when she stood between the Anak and three corpsmen quickly approaching with their guns drawn. Without thinking about it she already knew that running now would be a bad move. There was just not enough cover, not for hundreds of yards. But Rice seemed to think there was.
“Let’s go!” he said, looking as if he was prepared to physically move her.
“I’ll buy you time.”
“Buy me—!”
“Get down, there’s a ‘Nak behind you!” shouted one of the corpsmen.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
There was a change in their posture, she noticed, as they “blinked”; Corps slang for that moment one was confronted with something new and sudden, taking the brain a moment to reorient itself.
“Gray?”
“I said get down!”
“Harper, don’t shoot him!”
“It is you!”
There was no mistaking that dark skin gleaming in the sun and head of short, sculptured hair, and he pushed his way past his two companions to surge forward and envelop her in a crushing embrace.
“Where’s Finch?”
The question interrupted his happiness, and he didn’t hide the pain. “Finally got what she always wanted. Made sure to tell me she got six of ‘em on her way out.”
Gray knew exactly what those words meant. Their friend’s dark desire was so obvious that even the old sentinel could see it through a pair of binos. When Harper let her go, he produced Finch’s tags from a stained pocket, and she nodded.
After putting them away again like the precious things they were, he finally let his tense gaze drift upward to Rice, then downward to the body bled out onto the sand. The others quickly joined them, weapons raised, and Rice lifted his empty hands in the universal gesture of non-hostility.
“Gray,” the sentinel growled.
“Is he your… your prisoner?” Harper sniffed cautiously at the air. “Where’s the squeeze?”
“There is no squeeze.” She grabbed him by his tattered sleeves then, suddenly buzzing with wild energy. It was becoming clear, now, and Gray had to tell them as quickly as she could, before this perfect moment of strangeness ended. “He’s helping me get out of the Southland, Harper. It’s bullshit here, all of it. I’m going… going where I can get freedom without a mark. Please, you have to come with me." She turned to the other two now standing by, filthy and shocked. "All of you!”
But the report of a sider filled the air, its bullet finding flesh, and everyone ducked as Rice pitched, clutching his shoulder. They turned to see a lone captain staggering in their direction: Wesson.
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
As I was writing this I kept thinking that the name Keith sounded familiar, and I realized that it was the name of the “previous generation” SW author that wrote all the stories that I cut my teeth on in my first days exploring the kink. Sigh. His presence in the community is still missed, I wish he hadn’t left. I guess this is a small homage to him.
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
CHAPTER 4: THE MUSEUM
Dawn went to the “crack” in the door after he’d padded away just to make sure that he was indeed preoccupying himself with something else, and that there was no chance for a last-minute “oh and I forgot to say–” that would catch her off-guard.
But he was out of sight already, disappeared beyond the large plywood boxes, painted the same eggshell white as everything else, that served to divide up the immense space. It was a unique loft, she had to admit; clearly a turn-of-the-century industrial building, with the boss’s space in what was now the upstairs kitchen, a storage area that was now the guest room, and a walled bedroom and bathroom that must’ve been later additions, still from the pre-war era judging by the furnishings. It was not especially to her taste, she preferred a modern look: silky black lacquer and polished metal made her weak at the knees. But as an artist, he did at least have some semblance of taste and this was clearly no bachelor pad.
The little lady shrugged off the Cabbage Patch dress (really, that’s all it took) and lifted her leg to swirl it around in the warmish water. The temperature was perfect, and without further ado she slipped in and sighed contentedly. It might not have been a clawfoot, but it nearly fit her like one.
She too was back out and ready to go in a matter of minutes. Dawdling was one of her least favorite things in the world, especially when there were plans made. The thrill-seeker in her was relishing what strange challenges lay ahead. Dawn felt like she did before a case: figuring out ways to underplay her hand, fly under the radar, and come out the winner. Surely, today could be had like any game of strategy, with Keith her willing accomplice. Right?
Talking herself up like that was almost working. The prospect was still terrifying, of course. And she was quite literally putting her life in this strange man’s hands. In fact, it wasn’t anything like a court case at all, when she thought about it, and when it came time to get into the backpack, Dawn hesitated. He handed her a piece of cold bagel while she sized up the bag.
“Are you sure about this?” Keith asked, crunching into one of the yeasty rings.
She looked up to him, and his eyes bothered her. They were soft and warm, like a bag of gummy bears left sitting in the sun. Around them were laugh lines, and above, a head of tousled black hair. She wondered if he had some Spanish ancestry; his skin seemed to hold a tan well. How in the world did someone who ran their own business find so much time to go to the beach, anyway? Well, he clearly didn’t need to make much for rent.
“No, but it’s better than sitting around here all day.”
He hefted a sigh and she ignored him as he rolled his eyes. Finishing her bite, she climbed up inside, careful that her doll’s shift didn’t fall away. Inside was just as he’d said: a few rolled up garments to keep her away from the deep bottom of the pack, along with a small paperback and what looked to be a water bottle straight from the freezer.
“In case you get a little warm in there on the way,” he said.
“That’s very kind of you.”
With that he closed the zipper, leaving about three inches undone on the side so she could peer out without being noticed. “How’s that?”
His voice carried strangely inside the bag, surrounding her, and she shivered. It was a charismatic voice, but not the kind of charisma she employed in her own work. In many ways she was still in denial about her state of affairs, about her new dimensions. But it was the little things that were reminding her. The way even his soft words seemed loud, the way his breaths were much longer and deeper than her own, the sheer amount of detail she could see in his hands and face when he got close enough.
“It think it just might work…”
“Hm?”
Suddenly his eyes were all she could see and Dawn started. “Jesus!”
“Sorry, you’ll have to speak up when you’re in there.”
“I said… I think it just might work.”
“Alright,” Keith gently boomed, and the backpack shifted around her. “Hold tight, I’m picking you up.”
Her stomach lurched as he did so, and even though it was clear he was trying to be careful, she was still surprised how much like the Coney Island roller coaster this felt. Up the long inches of his body she went, until, with one last jostle, the bag was seated securely on his shoulder.
“How are we feeling?”
“Like Tweety bird being harassed by Sylvester,” Dawn said, making sure to project her voice more than usual. “But I think I’ll survive.”
“You ready for the subway?”
Her heart sank. “The subway??”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, and the backpack moved with him. He yanked open the zipper a little more so he could look at her out of the corner of his eye. “What, you think we’re walking to the Brooklyn Museum?”
“Only the poor take the subway!” she cried. “Get a cab, please!”
“I’m not paying for a cab, it’s one, two, three… six stops away. Besides, nothing interesting happens in a cab.”
“I don’t care about interesting! I care about my safety and sanity! Half those subway cars don’t even have windows, you know! And people get stabbed! Robbed! What if someone stole this backpack??”
“No one’s going to be stabbed, or robbed, or stolen. Now if you don’t like it, you can stay here and get some reading done, but I’m going out, and I’m taking the train whether you like it or not.”
His tone of voice changed a little, it was clear he was getting tired of her protestations. But that didn’t matter, “My god Mr. Morgan if I get so much as as scratch on me from this little adventure of yours, I’ll see you in–”
“No,” he firmly reminded her, “You won’t see me anywhere because you’re a grown woman and you’re not my responsibility.” Keith shrugged her further forward so she was forced to look up at his enormous face as he raised a brow at her. “Now this is the last time I’m asking. Are you coming, yes or no? Your decision, not mine. And don’t make me get it in writing.”
Dawn folded her arms into a pout. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m letting myself be bossed around by an artist…”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
The station itself was worse than sweltering, it was downright hellish. It had to be at least 100 degrees, and Dawn found herself reclining against the water bottle to cool down. Keith, on the other hand, had no such comfort. She heard him take off his baseball cap and wipe the sweat from his face with a heavy sigh as they waited.
Finally, she heard the screeching of the damn thing as it approached the station, and the dead air started to move. As the train pulled in, it whipped cooler air into the backpack, mussing Dawn’s fine, bottle red hair.
“Looks like we got AC,” Keith murmured just loud enough for her to hear, and as soon as the doors dinged open, the blast of climate-controlled air hit her and she could have almost died then and there.
Fortunately, from what she could see, there weren’t many people in the car, and he sat down before maneuvering the backpack into his lap. With a jolt and an incomprehensible announcement over the PA, they were moving again.
With due care, Dawn peered outside of her hiding spot. Everything looked just as she remembered: shabby, caked in graffiti, and vaguely smelly. An empty can rattled around the floor as they stopped and went. After a while, she realized that she was feeling another kind of movement, a subtle rise and fall with Keith’s breaths, and she was perplexed to find it… soothing. He likely had no idea this was happening, though, and like hell would she mention it. Fortunately he was right about the length of the trip, and it was two more stops when he rose again.
“You ever been to the Brooklyn Museum?” he asked as they crossed the street to climb the great steps of the institution. Soon the massive building threw them into sweet shadow.
“No. I rarely come this way at all.”
“Ah, you’re one of those types who only leave Manhattan to go to Florida, aren’t you?” he laughed. He needed to pipe down, someone was sure to think he was a crazy man.
“I’d rather be there than here right now. Now shut up! I don’t want you drawing any unnecessary attention to yourself!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Once inside, he paid his admission and began to stroll.
“What are we going to look at?” she asked at a volume only he could hear.
At that he took out the map and stepped into a corner the lobby. “Let’s see,” he said aloud as he hummed and hawwed over it. “Maybe the American art first… then the Egyptian wing… and then maybe a bite at the cafe…”
He spoke like he was mumbling to himself, a clever cover. Dawn had to give him a little credit at least, he wasn’t a complete goof. With that, though, he folded the map up again and she suddenly found it being shoved in her face.
“Hey!”
But Keith ignored her, and finished slipping it into the backpack before setting off. Further inside the galleries, things grew very quiet, and he didn’t say anything more for a little while. Keith ws clearly enjoying himself, it seemed to her like he was visiting with old friends. Most of the time she wasn’t able to see the paintings he was looking at until he had turned to stroll over to the next one, but he was doing his best to give her the same view. Not that it helped any, because she couldn’t figure out what was so impressive about them.
Alright, sure, they were old, and detailed, and probably took a lot of time and skill to complete. But the same could be said of the dictionary, and no one ever gazing longingly at a Webster’s. There were a lot of men doing things on horseback, like fighting, dying, crossing deserts, and working in fields. There were a few landscapes that she could only describe as “very leafy”, and the rest was rolling hills and bowls of fruit with the occasional dead bird.
There was just no way Dawn would hang any of these on the wall of her own apartment. New work, at least, had the decency to be novel and stimulating instead of trying to bog her down with theory and philosophy. Art was all so damn stuffy, and it demanded so much of one’s time, like a pet.
She perked up a little when Keith brought them to the Egyptian wing, finally. It’s not that she has a special affinity for the culture at all, but she could respect ancient art a little more because it was all quite useful. No one ever sat around panting color fields for Pharaoh to ponder, no. Jewelry was jewelry, furniture was furniture, toys were toys, manuscripts were manuscripts, and art depicted real things for reasons she could understand. She’d sooner display a sarcophagus in her home than a Basquiat for just that reason.
The artifacts soon disappeared though, as Keith appeared to take them down a hallway. After a short while he stopped, and she was shuffled around before being set down on a solid surface.
Zip. His face was above her again, looking earnestly in.
“How’s it going?” he whispered.
“I’d prefer to be window-shopping on Fifth but at least it’s cool in here.”
He rolled his eyes again and shook his head. “There’s no pleasing you, is there? Look, I gotta take a leak. Are you cool with that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He glanced around then turned back to her and began zipping up again. “Not really.”
Dawn was knocked down onto her back against the now-wet water bottle as he shouldered her again and rounded a corner. Thankfully, he was gentleman enough to pick a stall before unbuttoning his fly and letting nature call. How humiliating, Dawn thought as she was forced to listen to the heavy stream. At least he washed his hands, unlike some men.
“I’m starving,” he said when he was finished. She couldn’t have agreed more, and a few minutes later she heard the sounds of silverware on plates and the clinking of glasses.
“Table for one, please,” Keith said.
“Right this way, sir.”
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
All I can think of while I write this
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
@olo Glad I got out of the legal industry when I did
@tinyborrower Glad you’re enjoying it! Out of all my years in the kink, I have to say - this is my first straight-up SW story I’ve ever written, believe it or not. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long, but it’s so far a very fun change of pace.
Now let’s see if I can finish it before I recover!
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
@olo Well, last time I left the couch to water my plants the fever came back, so I guess the universe is telling me to do nothing but write until I’m over the damn rona.
And truly, I’ve learned from some of the best in this community
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RE: Attorney At Large [M/sw, gentle giant, light kink]
@tiny-ivy Thank you! They are so not my usual characters, it’s a fun change of pace. Thanks for the unintentional writing prompt.
Just gotta finish it… I’m mostly over being sick, but my energy is still flagging pretty badly and now that I’m back at work I don’t have the brains for much else when I get home.
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RE: Swallow Me, Like Your Little Pill (Slow burn | Intimate| Dark | Size-kink | Erotic Vore)
@nephilim Take your time! I’m very much enjoying the redux either way
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RE: Your Turn
Oh god this reminds me of an especially painful acupuncture session I had involving the ankles once
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RE: Legacy Writer - Shall I Share My Content?
@nephilim Little Pill was my first favorite vore story. Please do post here!
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RE: To the creators of this community
@olo God, yes. I just want to play with my brain legos.
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RE: Last Rites
@nyx Thank you Nyx! Your short stories have always been an inspo for me in this department.