Holy studded leashes, we should've
saved this one for the end! I wasn't thinkin'. This was balls denied
the best convention ever. Well, it was if you like comics, anime, porn,
and fetishwear. Timb was in heaven, and I was along for the ride.
I think I learned about 40 new words, 12 new positions, 3 new genders,
and found several muscles and pressure points I didn't know I had, 2
of which I'm in the process of having surgically removed.
We went through wall after wall of flesh, and somewhere along the way
I lost my wallet, and my pants, but that was okay because I ended up
with like 5 other people's wallets, one of which was attached to a chain
with a nice pair of pants on the other end. I don't know what the hell
happened in there, but by the time we were ready to go, we couldn't,
because I'd been rubber cemented into 4" soled leather kneehigh boots,
and Timb got several nipple piercings, by which he'd been Master Lock®ed
to several hellspawned she-demons. Lucky.
We lost contact for awhile, which made things really frightening for
me. I was in a strange new land, and what without the use of my knees
or ankles because of those freakin' boots, I kept falling over and having
to pull myself around the room by my elbows. I can tell you the ratio
of short skirts to lack of panties was pretty low, for girls and guys,
and the floor was about as scuzzy as a never-been-swept hair salon for
the pustually oozing. Actually, the crawling around without the use
of my legs started a trend, and by the time we left, everyone was crawling
over each other in what can only be described as a round of "Cripple
Fetish King of the Hill." You ever see all the sea-lions laying on each
other on the Nature Channel? Thousands of them? It was like that, with
chains, feathers, corsets, way less body fat, and as if possible when
comparing sea lions to people, more skin. By the time Timb managed to
find me, pick me back up again, dust me off, call me a son of a bitch,
and drag me out the door like a drowning victim, he had purchased everything
from pages 2, 3, and 7 of this month's Fetish Magazine, and I had made
about $150 spending, all in found wallets and free-floating pants.
