This post is sort of a mishmash, but I have a lot of things to talk about today.
First, I've sent the final chapter of How Did It Come to This? off to Simon, so expect to see it in next week's update. I hope you're enjoying it so far. I haven't received much feedback, but my Stat Counter tells me that lots of people are popping in here from the EMCSA - and lots of people are enjoying the Johnny Weir pics. I take that as a good sign. But remember: writers really love feedback! If you're enjoying the story, or even if you're not, drop me a line. Oh, and don't assume that all of Larry's assumptions about Jimmy are correct. ;)
Second, I thought you'd like to hear about a dream I had recently, since it involved so many things the EMC community holds dear. I dreamed that Supergirl was transformed into a mind-controlled zombie much like Tabico and Iago's Olithoi (first introduced at the end of this story arc). She had grey skin and white eyes, and she was utterly mindless. Her controllers sent her after another superheroine who was, I think, Supergirl's sidekick. For some reason this sidekick looked like the model Nicotine. Eventually I became this second girl, so I got the firsthand experience of being strapped to the brainwashing machine and plugged full of IV's and electrodes. So nice. :) I don't remember what happened after that, but for me, the induction is always the best part of any MC scene.
Finally, I just stopped by Asudem Latex's blog and found an amazing video. It's not embeddable, but I've taken a few screen shots to whet your appetite:
This is technically an art installation, but it's sooo easy to build fantasies around. In my mind, the two women (and one man, not pictured) are either nude or totally encased in black or silver. They've become mindless, living art displayed by some world-conquering MC'er like John Dominic of What Do You Give the Man Who Has Everything? They don't move to make the piece more interesting; they move because all they think or know now is pleasure. And so they squirm, wrapping themselves around their enticingly placed tubes and plunging them slowly in and out, in and out....
And that reminds me of a story I read once as a teen. I'd love it if someone else remembers it and can tell me how to find it again. The story was science fiction, part of an anthology by an author I don't remember now (I once thought it was Clark Ashton Smith, but now I think I was wrong). The story was about a performance artist who paid the bills by posing at a living statue. In the centerpiece scene, she stands nude on a dais at a dinner party, stock still on her toes, with a thick tube running between her pussy and her mouth. Later she does other pieces involving silver contacts and things like that. At the end of the story, her type of performance art has gone out of style and she just lies down in the street like a piece of trash, motionless and still wearing those contacts; she just doesn't know any other way to live now. I would so love to read that story again. Someone help me out!