Call Of The Goddess, The

In the last two years I have endured some of the darkest times of my 60 years on this earth. I was beset with bouts of deep despair, profound regret, and bitter self-loathing. The doses of drink required to skate me through those times grew steadily until they began making me ill, and I was forced to step back. The dark times became immediately darker still.

One of the few bright spots in this time was my discovery of this website and my involvement in it- posting stories and pictures- but all my internal conflicts about the rightness or wrongness of my impulses remained unresolved.

Although I had successfully resisted the temptation for the last 18 months to give in once more to my fetish muse (out of fear of being discovered dead of a heart attack while in full cosplay regalia), one week ago I finally gave up:  I simply wished to stop beating myself up, and in the interests of doing something nice for myself for a change- something which did not involve near-toxic levels of alcohol- I succumbed to my most familiar fetish impulse. This time I elected to refashion myself in the cosplay image of one of Axel Rosered’s classic characters (specifically, the character Marali in his sketch “Jungle Belly“ as found here in the bodyinflation.org picture archive) by acting out the rituals outlined in THE CALL OF THE GODDESS.

The details of the costume construction process are not particularly noteworthy but the result turned out to be accurate far beyond my expectations- close enough to the Rosered sketch to actually be a bit creepy, in fact- and the result of acting out the cosplay ritual was amazing. You don’t need to know any of the details except that it was transformative.

In light of this I have whimsically given my fetish muse a name, a gender, and an identity: she has become the Goddess. When I choose to answer her call, I am engaging in a form of worship. These terms are metaphors, of course; I am not going to rush out and harangue passersby on a street corner while slapping a tambourine, or buy an empty church building and found my own inflation cult. Nor will I abandon my family and my standing in the community by walking down the street while costumed. But at the very least I’ll have something new to think about and write about, instead of just having something old to drink about.

The rest of you might not appreciate this change, but I know my liver will.

-Latecomer