Crazy week has been crazy. I’ll get around to it eventually :p
Hmph. No clue.
Ah well. I’m not going to post it again. :p May it rest in peace.
wogglepony replied to your photo: Old Mister X art reposted One of my first and best…
Nice piece, don’t suppose you have a version that includes the text, as the explanation enhances the pic (and more of poor Timmothy would be wonderful too).
Alas, no. The text was profoundly long from a rp that went on for months. It was written years ago and the forum has since died.
Fenton was gobsmacked.
People found this erotic? It was strange and almost comical. Fenton was unable to laugh. The closeness of the previous day’s interview and the awkwardness that followed were still to fresh in his mind.
All the same, Fenton’s erection had not faded, much to his shame. The youth tried to tease himself off to the images he viewed. Pictures of people as human sushi trays, videos of strange rubber suits that immobilized the body. But he couldn’t overcome the rush of embarrassment.
This was not happening, he thought as he gazed down his abdomen at the twitching member between his legs.
The youth closed his laptop and flopped into bed, exhausted from a strange day. Things could only get better tomorrow, he thought.
***
No alarm clock the next morning. There hadn’t been a need for alarms since the last day of high school in the spring. Consequently, Fenton always overslept, often in a puddle of drool, wrapped around a pillow.
Some hours later Fenton found himself face down on his keyboard, startled awake by the error beeping noise that comes from pressing too many keys on a computer for too long. His face was imprinted with the keboard’s pattern and his back was sore from the awkward posture. Apparently he’d never gotten around to cleaning up his cum from getting off earlier, and his thighs and tummy were caked in dried seed.
Gross, he thought to himself and picked at it absently.
The video had been a smaller twink getting hammered into a bed by a larger and much more fit man. The boy whimpered and squealed and pawed at the bedding and the man’s chest. Fenton wasn’t really sure how much had been acting and how much was the fact that the boy really was getting fucked out of his little brain.
All the while Fenton slowly stroked himself under the desk. Lately the youth had taken to humping his chair as well, the pressure of the seat against him as served to arouse him more. By the end Fenton always ended up feeling like a whore or a perv. ‘Look at how little it took to get him panting like a slut.’
As the video reached its climax, the boy wailing and biting down on a mouthful of bedding while the bigger man pumped in and out of him like a fleshlight, Fenton sucked in a long draw of breath. His own climaxes always left him with a sheen of sweat, quick panting breaths, and his limbs all aquiver.
Fenton whimpered a deep, needy moan before relieving himself. All the stress of the day before seem to liquefy as he got off. It was an intensely good feeling and Fenton slumped back in his chair, his arms limp by his sides as his cock slowly went soft once more.
But that had been hours ago. Startled awake as he was, it took a moment for Fenton to register the hardon twitching between his legs once more. The libido of a teenager, he thought. I’m lucky I don’t get friction burns.
His text bar blinked for a moment onscreen while he pondered what to get off to. But then curiosity and drowsiness overrode his better judgement and Fenton typed the words “human furniture” into the search box.
Watching the old stop-motion Wind in the Willows movie from the 80s tonight while drawing. Interesting to watch now “as an adult.” I still really like the film.
It had a significant impact on me in a lot of ways. Love of nature and wetlands, quiet lifestyle, and my excessive shouting of “poop poop”. Also kind of cute to think about what a darling and dapper couple Mole and Ratty make.
Yea. This is what I do with my evenings. XD JUDGE ME.
Cleaning out the porn harddrive. You know you have a problem when you delete a couple hundred gig and still have … more. XD
Happy Tuesday, tumblrs.
I’ve been pondering uploading the remained of my work to tumblr. You know, the stuff that is posted on y!gallery and other sites. The bulk of my collection that I’ve created over the years.
I’d copy-paste my stories in with them.
Thoughts? Should I only post my new work as I produce it here? Or stagger it with old, classic Mister X rubbish?
You are crazy, creepy anon.
At best I’m dashing. ;) But today I failed to dress that part. I hate that shirt.
Erf. In a heavy cyberpunk mood now. Watching tons of films and sketching up Keif. May change his name to something more cyber…ish. :p
The penthouse windows peered out over the smog of the city. It sat nestled above the clouds like Olympus, distant and detached from the filth and squalor of the streets below. Even if the yellow-orange miasma had not blotted out the blighted metropolis blow, the suite sat so high above it all that it was only visible as little spots of twinkling light in the shadow of the great towers.
Keif’s chin rested on his sharp knees, thighs pressed against his chest as he leaned against the reflective glass of the apartment’s great windows, his breath against the surface fogging over the cityscape beneath him. It was quite a view and the youth felt a twinge of vertigo. His skin prickled as he felt the rush of air from the suite’s vents, the air purifiers filling the room with the sweet scent of perfume and incense.
The flat was exquisitely furnished with antique furniture made of real wood. It felt so strange and foreign beneath Keif’s fingers. Something about knowing it was not synthetic altered the boy’s perception of it, made him feel a strange awe to sit upon something so foreign.
There has been an outcry for details of my weekend. I am not one to kiss and tell, especially with regard to this individual and how i feel. My life is not pornography. :p
Suffice to say, there was a posh dinner, opera, and I’m a little twitterpated.
There was no real way to explain things to Mom. It made him blush to think about it, let alone say it. The tall, suited man eyeing him like a piece of meat. The abrupt way in which he told Fenton to undress, to bare all to a perfect stranger.
Fenton didn’t even get down to more than his boxers and an undershirt for gym at school. His mom hadn’t seen him naked since the days in which he tied a blanket around his neck and marched around the neighborhood as the 5-year-old king of everything. It wasn’t that he was unpleasant to look at. It just made him turn red from his ears to his shoulders with shame.
So Fenton quietly climbed the stairs after making some half-assed story about the office really being interested in a girl for the position. That got Mom fuming a lot more than he wanted. The interview would come up again, he knew it.
In his room he shed all of his interview attire, trying to take off the dirty feeling with it. The fact that he was now naked was not lost on him. But he felt a little better and the youth settled down in front of his computer to while away the evening, trying to void his mind the best way he knew how.
Porn.
His legs were still quaking when he closed the door to his house a bus-ride later. Fenton leaned against his, breathing heavily. Sweat had soaked through his shirt and vest, his lower lips quivered nervously.
“Fent? Is that you?” Mom called from somewhere deeper in the house. “How did the interview go? Dad wanted me to call as soon as you got back.”
Was this serious? What the hell went on in that office? Did he mistakenly apply for a meetup or something equally unseemly? Artists were weird, he knew that much, but Fenton expected some propriety.
He had is dignity after all. There would be other jobs. He could do better.
Fenton tried to convince himself of those words, pressed against the door. He tried to ignore the fact that this was the first interview he’d received in almost four months of searching since graduation. Desperation was not a word he wanted to contemplate.
“I… I don’t think I was a good fit for the job.” He shouted back to Mom finally. Sluggishly he worked at the knot of his bow tie and started to undo his shirt, pulling the fabric from his sweat slicked skin.
There would be other jobs, he said to his bare stomach.
I just completed an amazing week of kink, romance, and dorkiness. And now I’m going to run it in your collective faces. Sorry, internet folk, you took second place to something very magical. Like a fairy tail or something equally impossible. My days of posting and writing kink are numbered…
I can’t believe how happy these last few days has left me.
/mush
This did not seem like a usual delivery. To Devlin this almost felt like a strip-o-gram, far outside any of the weird he’d done before. Granted he didn't really mind showing off his body a little: soccer kept him lean. Since his Valentines Day deliveries were always to middle-aged, sex-starved women he knew a little skin would ensure a big tip.
Devlin worked for a local confectionery shop as a delivery boy. It was not a full-time position but it was something he could do most days after school. The shop was a mom-and-pop affair called Sweet Salvation, originally run by a nice older couple who had since given up control of the day-to-day affairs to their son Bowen two months ago.
Devlin’s ass squeaked in the red pvc shorts as he accelerated from a dead stop at a stop sign. Really they weren't shorts, more an amalgamation of straps and buckles with a well placed cod piece. His top was similarly revealing, equating to a bolero that left his midriff completely exposed. And then there were the stockings and full length gloves - lacy and white. Makeup and a bow.
What the hell.
Obviously Fenton did not hear what he thought he’d just heard. Though, try as he might, he could not come up with any other phrase that he might have misheard.
“I… beg your pardon?” He gulped. Unconsciously he cupped his hands in front of his crotch as though to cover himself.
“Your clothes. Take them off.” The words were slow and deliberately spoken. The man’s face betrayed no emotion. He spoke matter-of-factually, as though talking to a young child.
Fenton took a step away, edging towards the door. “I think there has been some kind of mistake. I was looking … er … applying for the front desk position.”
“Indeed. And a front desk needs to meet certain physical standards.”
“I don’t understand.” Another step towards the door.
“Obviously. You are the desk. Furniture. In return, $60,000 a year, benefits, insurance, vacation, and other perks. Our offices are private and I have … certain proclivities that I enjoy.”
A knot formed in Fenton’s throat. This was nonsense! Who’d ever heard of a person as furniture? Was this really a design office or some kind of sick sex parlor?
The man smiled as Fenton’s obvious confusion played out across his face.
“I … there … this is not what I thought I was interviewing for. I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.”
The youth turned and fled the building, his legs shaking and barely able to carry him home.
This man was stiff and impersonal, it kept Fenton’s nerves at an all time high. He had not even been asked any difficult questions yet and this was already proving to be the toughest interview.
Was he in good shape? Fenton squirmed at the question, his hands visibly playing with the hem of his vest. What did that have to do with anything? It was a desk job, not lifting freight, right?
“I … don’t really do sports or anything like that.” The boy started. Shit. Wrong answer. Have to come up with something better. “But… I try to stay active..”
It wasn’t necessarily true. Fenton took the stairs when he could, but that was the extent of his workout. He was lean with youth but still possessed a little tummy pudge from hours of Reddit, TV, and xBox.
The man paced around him like a stalking predator, his eyes making Fenton flush with embarrassment and nerves. When did the real interview questions start? Why was he feeling like a slab of meat right now?
“Strip down.”
A good start? Well, if he said so. Fenton was confused, but pleased to have received such a positive response already. Maybe the man thought he was joking?
The man was lean and clean cut, his hair neatly gelled to his head. His face was youthful but masculine. He was in his mid thirties at least. The clothes he wore and the demeanor he put on made Fenton wonder if the man was really the office manager or actually one of the partners of the studio.
“Your full name?”
“Fenton Brenton.”
There was a pause and the youth was sure he caught the slight origins of a smile tease at the corner of the man’s mouth. It wasn't uncommon Fenton’s parents thought themselves clever giving him a rhyming name, in reality all they had given him was a persistent source of mirth for others at his own expense.
“You have worked in an office before?”
“N-no. I’m still looking for the perfect starting place for my career after high school.” They were memorized words that he’d repeated before. Nobody wanted to hear that he had no experience and Fenton didn’t want to sound desperate.
The economy was bad. No question there. Jobs were a scarcity. He’d interviewed at over thirty different places over the last two months. Money was getting tight at home. His parents couldn’t help him through college and with Dad out of work, the family finances were getting grim.
“Stand in the center of the room.”
Fenton took a few nervous steps onto the large patterned rug. He despised being the center of attention. The teen was far more comfortable in the background. Let him file paperwork, he didn’t have glamorous intentions of being a CEO.
“Do you workout? Keep yourself fit?”
Terrified of being late, Fenton arrived 10 minutes early. His buffer had been spent timidly checking his tie and his hair over and over again through the camera of his phone. Mom was right, he should have pulled his hair back. Or had it cut. Or something.
The turning of the door knob made him jump from his reverie. Fenton expected to see the secretary who’d brought him into this small waiting room. Instead his eyes were greeted by a tall man in a very expensive suit.
Greeted was not the word Fenton would use personally. The man eyed him over dispassionately, like a butcher or a diamond vendor. When he spoke it was with the authority of a man accustomed to having his way.
“Stand up.”
Fenton practically jumped from the cushioned chair. Standing upright and fighting to keep his knees from knocking. This was not off to a good start. He knew he was going to blow it. The first question and he’d respond by fainting.
“Are you flexible?”
“I did gymnastics for two years in junior high.” Came the response.
Yea. He blew it. What the hell kind of response was that? Obviously the man was asking about hours and pay. Would he work around their scheduling? Would he accept less pay.
Fenton’s face flushed red and he looked down at his shoes, wishing he could creep down inside them like a turtle and hide from the burning on his cheeks.
“Really?” Came the surprised response. “That’s a good start.”
Fenton adjusted his tie again, easily the fourth such fiddling in as many minutes. Only a half-windsor knot, the best he could muster. It hung loosely at an odd angle and he knew everyone was staring at it. It wasn’t his fault the YouTube video for full-windsor knots was so damn hard to follow.
Sweat beaded under his white dress shirt, making visible stains around his collar and under arms. He didn’t interview well. The youth knew everyone said that, but he also knew he had to be a special exception. The words never came to him: he’d answer wrong, he’d stare blankly at the interviewers, once he even got up and excused him self for being so humiliated by the process.
He was uncertain why he’d even applied and then arrived at this interview. Didn’t most secretarial positions go to pretty young women? With a narrow, effeminate face, large lips, and a lithe frame he was pretty, but the young woman part was a stretch. Fenton’s thick, black rimmed glasses only furthered the image of a spinster librarian - shy but still worth a look.
What did he have to lose? He needed a job - any job - and the listing had not listed any requirements he did not have. In fact, it didn’t really list any requirements at all:
Opening for front desk at busy interior design firm. Apply in person for permanent position.
So here he sat in the design offices of Appearances by X, waiting nervously for the door to swing open and the interview to begin. A part of him said just to leave, that he would not get this job either. Another vainly optimistic part said this was it, this would be the job.
Job opening for front desk in busy office environment. Contact me if you are interested in a full-time position. ;)
Westminster Dog Show on the tellie next week. Which is good, because It is time for some fresh puppy show inspiration to get me drawing.
There shall be a party at my house. Bring your own water dish ;)
In San Francisco this weekend. Really loving the city and the area. I think I know where I may be moving :D Now someone find me employment here.
Great evening.
Step way outside my comfort zone to meet some people. The result, I’ve never seen a crowd of people try so intently to ignore the existence of one person except in cartoons. :p Very life-affirming.
Hmmm. From the absurd number of watches, reblogs, and likes I’ve received in the last 48 hours, I get the impression people want some more of Prescott’s bound and abused adventures…
I do have definitive ideas for three more pictures, including the friend who comes looking for his missing buddy. >3
It is four bellow zero outside and the roads are now made of ice. My car decided it wanted to be an ice-skater and showed off by weaving wildly between lanes and attempting a pirouette. And my office is cold so I am still wearing my trench coat.
It must be Monday. :p
I’m thinking about shaving off my beard. Discuss.
Haha, those are three things I can appreciate. I do love my Lovecraft, even if it gets turned into terribad movies. >_>
Does it make me sound like an old fart to not know what Snapchat is? There are so many little chat programs out there these days I stopped paying attention at all. Blarg.
In all honesty, doubtful. Most of those portraits pics were just that. Images of people I’ve met or seen or dreamed up that I thought would make for a fun drawing activity. Ultimately they were little more than experiments.
Thanks to everyone for their suggestions regarding my revamp of my old milking pics. They tickled my fancy and gave me some good starting places.
Ultimately my inspiration came from a movie Ms. M and I were watching: A Boy and His Dog. I loved it and I’m shocked I it took me this long to see. Anyone who enjoys the Fallout game series should watch this film. It his kinky, hilarious and dark. If you plan on seeing the film after this recommendation don’t read the rest of this post, I’m going to spoil it :p
**SPOILERS**
The point in the movie as that in a post-apocalypse setting a boy and his psychic dog are looking for the scarcest of resources: women. Mostly just because the boy wants to get laid. Ultimately he is captured by an underground community whose men are all infertile and chosen to fertilize all the ladies… via being milked.
Hence my idea for milking pics. Combines my love of post-apocalypse with something that makes sense. Do it on a larger scale with multiple guys. Boom, done.
I’m thinking about doing a story with illustrations for this. Dunno. Is there a good place to post that kind of thing?
Flattering as that is, you’re anonymous. All I see is a Guy Fawkes mask. ;)
I always private reply to any Ask from real people. I recommend trying that first, pup.