Stuffies

Check out my latest Kindle short, Gummy Bears!
By the way (since there’s 800 of you now, holy crap) you might be interested in the fact that I write original feedist fiction as well as Stucky fanfic. Gummy Bears is my first Kindle book, and you can buy it here!
Here’s an excerpt:

In a moment, Rufus’s hands were full of bears. There were a couple peeking out of the cleavage of his half-unbuttoned shirt, and his out-thrust tongue had a single bear on it. I wanted to do more, but we were far from alone, and the smartphone in Six’s hands was uploading photos to Twitter as fast as he could click them. One of them caught my hand in the act of placing a second bear in Rufus’ mouth after he swallowed the first, and the quick wet flick of his tongue against my fingertips made me shiver. Six chuckled a few moments later. The first tweet back was “Are those what I think they are?” and the second was “DON’T DO IT, RUFUS”. Then there was a flurry of me shoving the bears back into Rufus’ lap and snagging my phone back from him so I could do my job of monitoring retweets, responses, and hashtags. "So that’s what’s in it," Rufus was saying when I came up for air. Six was still hanging off the back of the seat, and Rufus was reading off his phone. Six had been explaining something, but I had been too wrapped up in seeing if Snoop Dogg had replied to notice. "What’s in what?" I asked. We had changed positions again so my head was back in Rufus’ lap. Since this also meant I was taking up a seat and a half again, the bag of gummy bears was now on my tummy, within easy reach. "Lycasin," Rufus said, still looking at the phone. "In the bears." "It’s a sugar substitute," said Six. Rufus’ voice changed, so I could tell he was reading some website verbatim: “Lycasin’s known side effects in adults include bloating, intestinal gurgling or rumbling…” At this point in his life, Rufus’ stomach muscles were much more defined than I’d like, but he still knew how to use them. When he said “rumbling,” he pushed them out, so I felt his tummy round out against my cheek. This made my thighs squeeze together involuntarily, and Six gave me such a knowing look that I sat up fast, blushing, even though technically no one else could see.

I’m also working on a companion story, Feeding Tube, that I hope I can put up for sale in August!

By the way (since there’s 800 of you now, holy crap) you might be interested in the fact that I write original feedist fiction as well as Stucky fanfic. Gummy Bears is my first Kindle book, and you can buy it here!

Here’s an excerpt:

In a moment, Rufus’s hands were full of bears. There were a couple peeking out of the cleavage of his half-unbuttoned shirt, and his out-thrust tongue had a single bear on it. I wanted to do more, but we were far from alone, and the smartphone in Six’s hands was uploading photos to Twitter as fast as he could click them. One of them caught my hand in the act of placing a second bear in Rufus’ mouth after he swallowed the first, and the quick wet flick of his tongue against my fingertips made me shiver.

Six chuckled a few moments later. The first tweet back was “Are those what I think they are?” and the second was “DON’T DO IT, RUFUS”. Then there was a flurry of me shoving the bears back into Rufus’ lap and snagging my phone back from him so I could do my job of monitoring retweets, responses, and hashtags.

"So that’s what’s in it," Rufus was saying when I came up for air. Six was still hanging off the back of the seat, and Rufus was reading off his phone. Six had been explaining something, but I had been too wrapped up in seeing if Snoop Dogg had replied to notice.

"What’s in what?" I asked. We had changed positions again so my head was back in Rufus’ lap. Since this also meant I was taking up a seat and a half again, the bag of gummy bears was now on my tummy, within easy reach.

"Lycasin," Rufus said, still looking at the phone. "In the bears."

"It’s a sugar substitute," said Six.
Rufus’ voice changed, so I could tell he was reading some website verbatim: “Lycasin’s known side effects in adults include bloating, intestinal gurgling or rumbling…”

At this point in his life, Rufus’ stomach muscles were much more defined than I’d like, but he still knew how to use them. When he said “rumbling,” he pushed them out, so I felt his tummy round out against my cheek. This made my thighs squeeze together involuntarily, and Six gave me such a knowing look that I sat up fast, blushing, even though technically no one else could see.

I’m also working on a companion story, Feeding Tube, that I hope I can put up for sale in August!

"I dream about meltingly soft boys decked out in ribbons and delicate crowns — much in the same vein as those fanservice cards, only with big, grippable love handles. Or about glorious queers wandering through a pleasure garden where everything just happens to be edible, and yet at any moment they could meet a cleverly camouflaged beast that could devour them in turn. I fantasize about seal maidens, as soft-bodied as their animal forms, leading handsome arctic explorers closer and closer to the ocean until they trick them into devouring raw flesh and becoming seals themselves. And other times I just want the simplicity of a well-described sushi feast — the gleaming roe and transparent pink ginger slices, the look of his lips as they wrap themselves around yet another morsel of rice and crab, and the way in which he swallows."

— from my guest post on Eros Blog about the joys of making my own feederism porn, Gummy Bears, and a sneak-peek at stories to come!

(Thanks, Bacchus!)

As of today, you can now buy Gummy Bears in the UK. As well as in 20+ other countries, according to Amazon.

Thanks to Foxglove, who pointed out the (accidental) oversight of limiting it to the US!

Feeding Tube

molly-ren:

Yo, here’s that snippet from the sequel to Gummy Bears that I promised!

_________________________

The next morning, Six wasn’t in the kitchen at breakfast.

If you ever worked for Six the way I did during that summer, you will understand how strange this was. I actually looked at the clock to make sure I had the time right, and hadn’t somehow gotten dressed in record speed. In fact, I was exactly on time, as I had been trained to be. When you were even a few minutes late to meet Six, you didn’t do it again.

In fact, the force of habit was so strong that I made coffee despite the fact that I felt a growing tension in my stomach, then sat down at my computer and began to review the day’s emails. But at nine twenty five I couldn’t stand it any more, and went in search of him, wondering if I had either forgotten something or been overlooked while the rest of the household went to Fiji on his private jet.

As I searched the empty rooms it was hard for me not to become more and more unsettled. Inexorably, I remembered Six telling me the story of when one of his sex party invites had pulled a gun on him and had made off with almost a thousand dollars. By the time I’d checked the pool and his bedroom I was starting to imagine that someone had broken in and killed him, which was why, when I got to Rufus’ still-shut door, I gently pushed it open rather than slamming it like my nerves wanted to.

Six was standing over Rufus’ bed.

The rush of relief I felt upon seeing him was intense—but it somehow did nothing to relieve the tension. Why was he there, looking at Rufus so intently? I must have gasped a little, because I startled him… and then when he saw me, placed a finger to his lips. Shhhhhh.

I came in quietly and shut the door even more quietly. Rufus was still asleep in the bed, naked as he usually was, except for the sheet. I had the fleeting thought that he might be sick, or hurt, and that was the reason Six had told me to be quiet, but I was distracted by all the bottles. They were cluttered all over the bedside table, the bureau, and even the windowsill—wine bottles and tequila bottles and the huge liter soda bottles, all quite full. Six had even lined up a row of glass Orange Crush bottles on the windowsill, which Rufus had once told me he’d used to do one of his first liquid stuffings. The early morning light shone through the bright orange liquid inside them like stained glass.

Read More

I posted this ages ago, and as you can see, it’s pretty much been ignored.

But the times when, in a sea of likes for my other posts, I see that one, single new heart for this post? IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!

drbyron:

ursulavernon:

kytri:

vintar:

old and busted: werewolves

new hotness: were everything else

What a time to be alive.

See, my problem is that I’d be like “Ha ha, I’ll write were-chicken porn as a joke.” And two hundred pages later, I would be deeply invested in the were-chicken’s tragic quest and pretty much I’m not allowed to do anything as a joke ever again.


BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING

If you are a werebee, do you turn into a single one, or a SWARM,
so is it a psychological dissociation or a gang bang?