Today, the line "tanks for the mammaries" just popped into my head (pun intended) and it was so swell (yeah yeah, OK I'll stop now), I thought it deserved to have a story written around it, in which it gets used as the droll punch line at the very end. Alas- a quick search of the site revealed that none other than our own esteemed L.V. Kane used that very line in a story (a good one too, I might add; he obviously writes for a living) that he wrote all the way back in 2007. Sigh- so it goes.
Next month will mark the anniversary of my first posting here- "Big Debbie's Diving Mishap"- in which I brought forth and exercised a broad spectrum of stored-up fetishes and fantasies. Later in the year I posted a couple more stories and then I finally got up enough nerve to upload a pencil sketch, which led to more sketches and more interactions with those of you who read my stories and perused my sketches.
But now we come to the point where I bang the conundrum, as follows. A year ago I was stunned speechless to stumble upon this site and discover that I was not the only person in the whole wide world with a brain that was wired to associate female inflation with, of all things, sexual arousal and gratification. The second stunning revelation was my discovery that the population with whom I shared this odd characteristic contained a wide variety of extremely gifted (and obviously professional) writers, artists, graphic designers, and web wizards. They could put into words or a few curved lines on my very own computer screen not only the thoughts and images that have meaninglessly flitted in and out of my head for as long as I can remember, but also the feelings and emotions that those thoughts and images triggered in me. It was they who inspired me to try my hand at writing and sketching, as noted above.
Living the life of a deepy-closeted inflation fetishist did things to me over the years which today I cannot look back upon with anything but regret and a certain sense of disillusionment. Each hour I spent acting out those fantasies by myself in secret was, in my case, intended to fill a certain void- which it did in some ways, at least temporarily, but in other ways it just made the void darker and deeper as the decades rolled by. And inevitably, each hour spent in "that" way, doing "those" things, represented an hour which then could not be spent dealing with why that void was there in the first place.
By now, that void has grown quite dark and deep indeed, and at this stage of my life I have come to realize that it defines who I have become: a fundamentally conflicted and above all else a fundamentally lonely and fairly bitter middle-aged man whose clock I fear has not enough hours remaining on it for him to finally fill that void with something other than fantasies and fetishes played out in a room with the door locked and the curtains closed when no one else is home.
I now harbor the fear that by posting my stories and sketches here, I might actually be encouraging other people who, like me, found the usual and ordinary means of experiencing fulfillment to be out of reach and who, like me, then turned inward to exercise those fantasies and fetishes as a void-filling substitute- but who, unlike me, are still young enough now to fix the void and avoid my fate, which I do not wish upon anyone.
Part of me says I should therefore stop posting here, plant tongue in cheek and say "tanks for the mammaries", log off, and try as best I can to fill the void with the real thing, whatever it may be. Part of me says none of it matters anymore by this point- regrets be damned, etc.- and that I should surrender to the void and let everyone else make their own choices.
What say you? Please discuss.
Best regards,
-Latecomer
There are a lot of issues here on which I'm fairly opinionated, but I'll try to be concise.
There's nothing inherently wrong with producing stories or art about inflation.
You're not responsible for people who take an unhealthy interest in your work.
One of worst parts of being an inflationist is the sense of of being uniquely freakish. Discovering that I wasn't alone contributed greatly to my well-being.
Ultimately, these things don't tell you whether you should stay or go. If your main concern is your impact on the young, then you just need to answer one question: Would you be better or worse off today if you'd discovered a community of like-minded people to share your interests and concerns with when you were young?
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