Intubated on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Border Crossing

Thu, 03 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

The 18-wheeler pulled up to the customs booth, and the customs agent stepped out and called up to the driver.

“What’s your load?”

“Ponygirls,” growled the burly, bearded driver with the Bettie Page tattoo.

“Pull into the inspection station, please.”

The driver nodded and maneuvered his truck over to the designated area. He shut off the engine and stepped out. As a seasoned trucker, he knew the routine—he handed the binder full of forms to the agent and dug out the keys to open the back.

Postmodern Peonage

Wed, 09 Oct 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Number 11 would be Claudia’s finest work. She had slaved on it, working for days at a time; the dedication she put into this would surely attract SOMEONE’s attention, she thought. However, she was ready for whatever press or onlookers there might be. Some carefully-worded answers would redirect any attention from the authorities – and she was ready for some harsh criticism, too. Clauda Blacke had made sure to bone up and reinforce herself and her premises against any naysayers or, who knows, even protestors. In Blacke’s mind, her work wasn’t so much a ‘revolution’ as it was an ’exposition’ – an exploration of the truth. She rehearsed some lines in front of a mirror; her home, a townhouse in the French Quarter. (A very artsy place, she thought – she could probably get away with a little controversy here or there.) “I, Claudia Blacke, am very, very proud of my latest piece. Look at the title, and the content, and do not think of it as a controversial or inflammatory work of art. I don’t seek to incite riots or protest, and I don’t seek to send out a big political message. In fact,” she said, trying to regain her breath – she was far more nervous than she realized- “This is not a message. This is naturality.” “This is, after all, how it should be –a realization of the things that people so often deny, or even worse, admit to, contemplate, desire mentally, but never, ever act on. A realignment of ideals and values that men and women have held since the first proto-indo-europeans banged sticks together until they made a chariot.” This would be tough – that is, if the press, the media, and the attention came. She kind of hoped they would. She wiggled her toes and smiled reflexively at the idea. “Look not at the art’s context or the artist. No, look at the art – the subject matter at hand – and only THEN make your judgment.” She sighed, turned away from the mirror, and walked out of the room. “Ugh,” she said aloud. Claudia was just deathly afraid of crowds, she was now realizing. She needed a captive audience or she’d feel completely uncomfortable. Standing in front of people was a nightmare for her, really… and it had cost her at least one job. She had to get this speech right. She had to really nail it – make a good first impression for when the public would inevitable see her ‘big reveal’. She turned to her artwork and caressed it. “You think maybe I should talk more about me and less about you?” The artwork moaned.

Letters From Kaylin Chapter 7: Population Recover Test Area

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I have consolidated all of my stories to date on a Yahoo Adult Group. The Group has the stories and loads of free heavy rubber photo finds that I’ve compiled over the years. There are even a couple of photos of me enjoying my favorite material. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rbrbill_fans/ - Story continues from Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Population Recover Test Area

The hood covering Kaylin’s head was completely soundproof and dark. The thick rubber pressed her eyes shut and some sort of thick foam padding must have been sandwiched between layers of rubber at the ear lobes. The thing pushed the pads deep into her ear canal completing the seal against any outside sounds.

The Two Day (or more) Mummy

Fri, 28 Sep 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Well, we’re the craziest old couple on the block. Last week Techster was reading one of the Mummy stories on grometsplaza and remarked, “Someday I’d like to try this mummy thing. I wonder how they deal with feeding, fecal waste and urine- no one ever mentions that and yet for more than a 12 hour mummification it is inevitable.” So I designed a mummification system and dealt with the reality of feeding, urine and fecal waste as techster was my unwilling volunteer for several days - to be exact 3 days.

The Experiment

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Melissa looked at the strange shop from a distance. “Figures it would be a public place” she thought to herself as she walked closer. Melissa was answering an ad she found for a room and board job, and the address lead her to the Latex Mind fetish shop. The brunette girl had short hair, and a small frame. You almost could mistake her for being a young teen. She was pretty young too. Just barely legal to drink, but had her unusual tastes in life just the same. But this is the first time she ever did anything like this. Sure, she had experimented with being tied up by a boyfriend or two, and had tried a small selection of kinky wear but this was going to be about as extreme as she could imagine and she knew it.

Beauty in Repose

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said to me.

I didn’t open my eyes, but I smiled and stretched on the expensive sheets, making a happy kitty-cat noise. I had slept well–as I always did, in her bed–but I was so perfectly comfortable that I just didn’t want to get up. I could smell her perfume. She waited patiently for me to rouse myself. She was always so good to me. She lifted my arm and kissed the back of my hand. I finally opened my eyes to see her sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at me. I had felt her get up some time earlier, but she was still wearing her lavender silk nightgown. She always looked so well made up. I don’t think I had ever even seen her without makeup on. I guess that was just how she was brought up. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if she didn’t look like some retro icon of femininity. I would have loved her, anyway.

Beauty in Repose

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said to me.