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Old December 28th, 2003, 11:03 PM
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The Roommate, Parts IX and X

Here again. Yeah, it's a holiday, so I can afford to churn out chapters like this. I figured I might as well do it while I can, right?

Two chapters follow in this thread. Check out the other parts. I'm contradictorily sorry that I've broken this up into so many scenes and yet glad that I haven't finished the story yet.

I do wonder if my descriptions get too repetitive. Then again, erotic stories tend to follow similar patterns.

Enough with the rambling. Have a good read.

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Old December 28th, 2003, 11:06 PM
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The Roommate, Part IX

The next couple of weeks passed with disturbing swiftness. I never realized how good I had it when I was taller and more muscular. Classes resumed, and I was forced again to meet with the reality of my situation. At 6'1 and 185, I had been able to easily push through the crowds, and had a decent height advantage over others. Suddenly, I was getting jostled everywhere by my former peers in height and strength. I was an average-sized guy, even though my build was pretty awesome. Suddenly, most of the guys around were near my height or above it. I was shocked the first few times I saw girls as tall as me, or taller.

I took precautions to avoid meeting with my friends; even had Phil not commanded that I keep my silence about what had been done to me, they wouldn't have believed any excuses I had offered. An inch or two in height was easily disguised, but three or four was an obvious gulf. This didn't stop the occasional casual acquaintance from asking me if I was feeling all right. It didn't keep some of my classmates from inspecting me with their eyes, wondering if I had been wearing lifts all this time. I hoped they could not see how my musculature had wasted away under the thick autumn sweatshirts and cargo pants I wore.

Phil did his part to ensure that his defeat was not too swift. He seemed to enjoy dragging out my misery by making me go to the gym every morning. He didn't even bother working out much, other than to demonstrate as the days passed his growing strength. I was barely able to hold my bench press at 180, but Phil's climbed from 150 to 160 in just three days and showed no signs of stopping. He was only 10 pounds below me on curls, and I saw him flirting with my 60 pounders in his mind's eye. His muscles were visibly larger as each day in the gym passed. The scale's numbers mimicked his growth, straining up to 155. My weight climbed a bit more slowly despite my frequent exercise and better diet, and I was able to regain my weight of 165.

One morning, exactly three weeks after the day I had made Jason grow, I awakened to find my roommate nowhere in sight. I didn't even bother going to the gym that day, opting instead to take my time of freedom to hike up to the campus early to get some studying done before classes. The autumn morning was chill and bright, the sky a luminous blue that soured my mood instantly: it reminded me of Phil's eyes, rising up toward mine, on the day he had used me to make himself grow.

My mood further soured as I saw Jason standing outside the entrance to the science hall, smoking on a cigarette. His thick-soled boots lent him several extra inches of height, making him about half a foot taller than me. Disregarding the chill of the morning, he wore a black sleeveless shirt that left his perfectly-rounded delts and biceps bare. He was not flexing, but the muscles arced out of his arms, bouncing like something alive as he adjusted his cigarette in his mouth. As I mounted the stairs leading to the hall, I noticed he was wearing some tight sweat pants that, despite their dark color, left none of his endowments—muscular or otherwise—to the imagination.

I approached the doors, and he leaned away from his perch, effectively blocking my path. I glanced around several times, hoping that someone was nearby. The futility of my situation struck me: I was on a college campus at just past 6:00 AM. Not a single self-respecting college student would be readying himself for classes. A thought flashed through my mind for a second: what if Phil had planned this meeting?

Jason dispelled that thought. “Surprised to see you up here, little guy,” he said. Without waiting for me to respond, he continued, “I was going to do some skating before my first class, but it’s a lot harder with all of this extra stuff.” Jason glanced suggestively down at his pants. His dick stretched out to erectness in the passing of a few seconds. He looked back down at me, vivid green eyes framed by the wicked arch of his black brows.

It took most of my courage to ask, “What do you want?”

He punched me in the shoulder. I don’t think the gesture was meant to sway me, but I stumbled back, leaving him snickering over my weakness. His punch had felt like a baseball bat. I was shocked again by how strong he had become.

”Maybe you should start working out,” he offered coarsely. When I didn’t respond, he finally answered, “But I think you know what I want. Why don’t we go inside?”

I turned, and tried to bolt away. One of my feet left the ground, I was readied to sprint. I wasn’t counting on Jason’s speed. One big foot snaked out and knocked my other leg out from under me. I hit the pavement with a sharp crack, but the cold had already numbed me against pain. My book bag went flying.

I tried to voice my protest, but the fall had taken my voice and breath away. An instant later, and I was being lifted by two solid arms. Jason commented on how light I felt as he dragged us into the nearby lavatory. My hopes for egress died as he forced the deadbolt into place. It took him a few tries to move the corroded lock.

His eyes were aflame with need. Jason’s lust was beyond anything sexual as he sat me down on the counter, large fingers fumbling with the button and then the zipper of my cargo pants. I was stunned by my fall, but clumsily flailed at his face, head, and neck. He ceased momentarily in his efforts in getting me unzipped to grab my arms and force them back behind my head. My resistance was utterly ignorable. I felt like a rag doll against his superior strength.

Then he was back at my trousers, drawing them hurriedly down to my ankles. I savored a moment of true resistance as I realized that he could not force me to erection. He could not make me give him what he wanted. By this point, the snake in his trousers was pounding to escape its prison. He withdrew his hand from my legs and quickly jerked his sweatpants down, freeing his cock to swing pendulously about. I don’t think I’d ever seen one that big, except maybe in porn.

Jason caressed his a few times, then fished through my silk boxers and withdrew mine. Against my will, the touch called it to attention. With every beat of my heart, my penis swelled a bit more in his grip. It looked small against the big paw. That huge hand was defter than I had expected, knowing exactly how to bring me to full mast. As his other hand beat off my struggles, Jason’s right beat off my prong expertly, arousing me despite my quiet horror at this situation. Everything was piling up on me: Phil’s transformation, my shrinking, Jason’s huge size. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t even realize in my inner torment that I was coming quickly to the edge of my sexual endurance. Jason, obviously an authority on pleasing men, saw an opening and took me fully into his mouth. The resulting explosion tore down his throat with a force that surprised even he, but my trembling fear at the consequences kept my orgasm short and relatively unproductive. I barely felt the power of the climax, which left my toes curling and vision blurring for just a few seconds.

Jason straightened, glowering at me with disappointment as he withdrew his grip from my arms. He wiped his mouth, even as his body rocked with new growth. I saw his cock expand alarmingly, engorging to a thickness greater than that of my wrist. Its length reeled out, jerking past ten inches before running out of fuel to grow on. The rest of his body continued building upon itself, muscles distending with new size. He was feeling at his chest passionately as it expanded, and only the elasticity of the fabric kept it from splitting asunder at the press of his emergent muscles.

The squeaking of overstressed leather drew his eyes down to his feet, which barely avoided bursting his boots. I stared down at the massive boots, but only until the movement of his sweatpants caught my attention. Slowly, they withdrew from his ankles, revealing an inch or two of his bared leg.

I gazed back up at Jason, who was busy staring at his cannonball deltoids. They led down to arms that had to be nineteen inches around, unblemished by the presence of fat. My head’s movement must have caught his attention, because he looked back down at me.

Awe in his voice, he gasped, “You look so damn short.” Then, breathlessly, “More.”

He moved toward me, and I knew for certainty that there was no way I could resist him now. He would be almost 6’4 without his boots, and had possibly eighty pounds of muscle on me at this point. I had never seen someone so tall look so well-proportioned. By my judgment, he had to have been 235 pounds of massed and swollen symmetry. As Jason’s hands made contact with my skin, a resounding thud echoed from outside the bathroom.

A voice ordered, “Open the damned door.”

My heart melted with joy. It wasn’t Phil’s voice. Jason pulled up his trousers, his erection wilting away as far as it could go—even fully soft, it would be bigger than an average man’s. I wished that all of the man-made muscle that rippled through his arms, his broad chest and oversized shoulders, could do the same. He looked impatiently at me, and I drew up both boxers and trousers over my spent cock. As I forced myself down off of the counter, I realized how much taller he was, 6’5 or more in his booted feet. His sheer mass dwarfed mine.

Jason lumbered over to the door once I was fully dressed, effortlessly undoing the lock that had challenged him just minutes ago. As soon as it was undone, the door swung open.

A fairly short man, 5’6 or 5’7, stood in the doorway. His hair was dark red, hallmarking Irish or Scottish descent. Like Jason, his eyes were green, but they were rich and dark like emeralds. He wore a brown woolen sweater and corduroys of a slightly lighter hue. The newcomer’s voice was surprisingly commanding as he ordered Jason, “Get out of here.”

The huge former slacker must have been surprised. He stood there for a moment, staring dumbly, but to my complete amazement he left without a word, taking obvious care not to get in the way of the shorter man.

This freed my savior to come to my side. He looked up at me slightly, frowning as he asked, “Are you all right?”

I nodded my head, but the scrapes from my fall must have convinced him differently. His green eyes bored into mine, and I looked away. Before I knew it, I changed my mind and shook my head. “No, not really.”

“I’m Professor McTague,” he said, offering a hand. I shook it. My wrists hurt from their abuse. I was distracted from that by my surprise: he had struck me as being around my age. Then again, we had a lot of associate professors who liked to throw around their titles.

“I know this isn’t much consolation,” began the professor, “but I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you’re going through.”

I blushed. He thought I had been getting abused by—well, in a way, I was, but not in the way he thought. Phil’s command rang through me, and I struggled to keep from visibly staggering at its potency. I couldn’t tell anyone what he was doing to me, not that anyone would believe anyway.

Taking my silence for unwillingness, the shorter man gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “If you need to talk, even if it’s about something you’d rather not tell anyone else, feel free to come by my office on the second floor. Completely confidential. You look like you could use a friend…”

He stopped expectantly. I took the cue. “Dane,” I told him.

”You can call me Liam, if you like.” At my second silence, he shrugged, turned, and walked toward the door. I was actually just gratified that he wasn’t one of those people who wore their educations as a badge. Stopping where he was framed by the breaking light of day, Professor McTague smiled again at me. I almost felt like taking him up on that friendship bit right about then. He broke his spell by saying, “I really do understand what you’re up against. It’s in you to fight what’s going on in your life. So fight it.”

He turned and walked away. Suddenly, the entire room felt colder, darker. Maybe I was just so unused to anyone being kind to me that small bit of friendliness went a long way.
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Old December 28th, 2003, 11:09 PM
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The Roommate, Part X

Phil was waiting for me back at the room after classes. He was wearing one of his old shirts. Before, the thin crimson T-shirt had been a bit baggy on him. Now it hugged the broad track of his shoulders, shrink-wrapped to the tautness of his chest, forcefully showcased the taper of his lats down to his eight-pack. His navel was bare; the shirt was too short on him to conceal the two lowest abdominals or the livid head of his frequently erect cock, which was pushing up beyond his boxers. I wondered briefly if he even bothered with pants any more.

“Take off your clothes,” he demanded. I stripped, swiftly.

He looked up at me, and I was struck by the fierce blueness of his eyes. His skin had darkened again, slightly bronzed despite his aversion to spending time in the sun. I noticed he was sporting the beginnings of a goatee. His face looked more mature than I had expected, though by no means aged. Phil’s skin was faintly luminous in the afternoon light. I tried to conceal my hardening member as I thought about how he would look were he not wearing that shirt. I couldn’t succeed, as he quickly pulled it off over his head, leaving his russet golden hair in disarray. His swollen pecs were laid bare, hairless save for a downy golden dusting across their surfaces. I was instantly ready.

“I have something to show you,” Phil said, obviously pleased with himself. He stepped over to the measuring stick, straightening to the fullness of his height. Even from where I was standing, I could see what he wanted to show me: Phil was of a height with me. He walked forward until we were nose to nose, his ice blue eyes boring straight into mine. “Well, isn’t that just fucking awesome? I’m almost exactly your height,” he told me.

I nodded silently.

Phil’s brow furrowed, and his face shifted into a melodramatic pout. “You never let me have any fun, Dane. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you pick what we compare first. I went out and got a measuring tape this morning.” He whipped out a length of blue tailor’s tape, marked with tiny white lines. “C’mon. Choose quickly.”

“Biceps,” I told him, without hesitation. I was getting tired of this mental dominance. I kept thinking of what Professor McTague had said, about fighting.

I wrapped the tape around his arm, trying to keep myself from caressing the pulsing blue vein that writhed beneath its surface. I could feel my cock sounding a drumbeat in my boxers. Even though I hated Phil for this, I could not stop myself from being as he wanted me to be. Once I had secured the tape, he tightened his biceps. I was not prepared for the size of the muscle that exploded out, and I lost my grip on the tape. For a moment, I just looked at the split-headed baseball that had grown out of my formerly scrawny roommate’s arm. I reached down and readjusted myself before settling the tape around his muscle.

“Fifteen point one,” I said, my mouth dry.

I pulled the tape away, and he took it from me wordlessly. Reluctantly, I raised my arm up and allowed him to get the tape snug around it before flexing. He sounded a bit disheartened. “Fifteen point three,” he told me.

Despite my momentary gladness, I wholeheartedly resisted the urge to tell him that he should have been working out these last few weeks. Whatever I could do to stave away his capricious malice, I would. Professor McTague couldn’t possibly understand what fighting would do to me. My roommate was almost as big as I was, now. What would happen if I made him angry?

“Seven and a half,” Phil announced, breaking my train of thought. I glanced over at him. He had just finished measuring his swollen prong, and advanced toward me with the metal ruler that had become our traditional standard.

The metal was surprisingly warm against my shaft. I was instantly erect. Between the beats of my heart, I wondered how much time had gone by with Phil trying to get a good measurement. Never before had I been prone to deep thinking, but I’d also never had so much reason to be worried for the future.

“Seven and fucking five eights.” Phil shook his head, sullenly. “You’re still longer than me, and bulkier. Just a bit, though. I’m tired of this.”

“I can’t help that,” I said, and instantly regretted it.

He paused in his quiet lamentations. “Yes. Yes, you can, and you will,” he said, his tone suddenly threatening. “Stand there, and watch yourself help me out.”

As Phil’s hand groped at my cock, the ruler fell to the floor with a dull thump. A gasp escaped from my lips at the electricity of his touch, and another followed as I realized why he was rocking so furiously. Phil’s other hand was hard at work on his own member. He noticed me staring and ordered, “Whack me.”

My hand snaked out to reach his prong, and for but a moment I brushed against its scalding hot surface with my fingertips. I took a deep breath, and my hand clenched in mid-air. I didn’t realize what I was doing until then. My hand held there for a second, my arm as tight as iron, the struggle overtaking even Phil’s furious pounding of my erect penis in my mind. Slowly, shakily, I pulled my hand back away from Phil’s body and forced it back to my side. Professor McTague’s face flickered into my mind, and I silently thanked him.

And then I came. I was so preoccupied by my victory that I barely noticed as my balls clung closer to my body, my penis bucked, and a wash of white fluid exploded from its engorged tip, splattering across Phil’s chest. Another wild splash struck across his arm, and a third drenched his own bobbing penis and part of his boxers. All thoughts of victory were wiped away as he shoved me backward with one arm. I was off balance already, and ended up falling hard against my bed.

“Now we’ll see who’s bigger,” he rasped. One of his hands was at furious work on his wildly lurching cock, but as he worked it the head and shaft began to extend, to thicken, until he raised his free hand to join in the work. The head still protruded beyond his twin grip like a plum.

From where I lay, I could see that he was already getting taller and broader. He wasn’t flexing, but his muscles looked a human anatomy chart, growing and pressing against the skin as they absorbed even more of his ridiculously low body fat. His pecs pushed outward, forming deeper a deeper ribbed crevice between them. They shadowed the press of his abs, which were writhing, defined, girded at their lowest level by a pronounced wreathe of veins that traveled down to his still-expanding cock, following the path of a coiled red-golden treasure trail.

He was definitely over 5’9 now, maybe 5’10 and still growing. I had to do something about this! I pushed myself off of my bed and crawled toward him, gasping my defiance. He was too busy flexing his biceps, which swelled like softballs beneath the skin of his arm. His delts expanded, lending an almost unnatural width to his shoulders. His neck was thickening, making him look even more solid. Phil had veins I had never imagined, striations that I did not know were possible. He was muscled like a wrestler well-accustomed to careful manipulation of weight, and he was still swelling.

I reached him, finally, and realized I had no idea what I could do to stop this. One of my arms leapt out and grabbed a meaty and growing thigh. I tried to dig my fingers in, but to no avail.

My heart sunk as I felt Phil’s iron fingers jab into my own inferior musculature. I looked up at him, but my view of his face was obscured by his jerking cock. The first shot hit me right in the face, and almost instantly the world began to sway around me. I felt Phil’s thigh swell up even more under my hand, but whether that was due to his orgasmic twitching, his growth, or my renewed shrinking, I had no idea.

He pulled me up, and I felt his fingers creeping over more and more of my skin as they grew and my muscles wasted further. I could barely hold my head up with dizziness, and so it was that I saw the next scalding ribbons of jism strike me right in my shrinking abs. Phil’s cock was slightly larger than mine, which was still erect. The difference was increasing, though. Mine was clearly leveling around seven inches, and Phil’s was climbing toward eight.

Phil forced me to stand on my own two feet, holding me up with his steady and still-swelling arms. I looked up into his eyes, an inch or two above mine now. I felt the press of his hard pectorals against my body, still swelling as mine retracted. Saw his lats broaden even more. Shuddered as I felt how large his hands felt against the slenderness of my arms.

His gaze was the worst. One look at the spark of triumph shining in those sky-blue depths, and I finally gave up, let myself fall into the comforting unconsciousness I knew would not reject me. Something flashed through my mind as my awareness frayed: a pair of deep green eyes, solid, reassuring. Then it all fell away.
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Old December 29th, 2003, 04:39 PM
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I think you're doing an excellent job with this story so far. Your characters are well-depicted, and the "slow burn" you're giving the story is very erotic. Keep up the good work!
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Old December 29th, 2003, 07:24 PM
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Dane must find a way to win.
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Old December 30th, 2003, 09:44 PM
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I agree...Dane must eventually defeat Phil.
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Old December 31st, 2003, 10:59 AM
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Damn right.
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Old December 31st, 2003, 02:18 PM
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I want a roommate like DANE ;-)

Wow some really hot 'roommates', Xyggurat!

And Jason is frickin' hot too.... I like his being two-dimensional, more animalistic... "just the give me the f*ing muscle... make me feel f*king unbelieveable!" And then Jason making dane explode in his mouth so he can grow huger and huger..... whew!! His raw desire is a nice addition to the dynamics and psychology of the main characters.

Finish this off HOT... whatever feels hot to you. I am super aroused when the author connects with something primal and sexual inside themselves and exposes it. So, I don't know what that will be for you... whatever it turns out to be (dane emerging victorious or otherwise), I know it will be one friggin hot story...

QTR
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Old January 8th, 2004, 12:49 PM
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Talking More, please!!!

It is a really hot story! And I can't wait to read part XI, XII, etc.

And I don't think Dane should win. I find Phil quite interesting, even if he's not really the kind of heroes we usually admire...

Xyggurat, we need more!
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Old January 27th, 2004, 07:25 AM
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The Roommate

What happened to this story? Will it ever be continued?
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Old January 27th, 2004, 11:33 AM
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A Qualified...

Yes.

I promise!

I've actually had a lot of difficulty seeing where my ideas would be going. I wrote several chapters, but deleted them because they just seemed hokey to me.

You could say I'm suffering from writers' block, or a lack of inspiration, OR a lack of time.

But I *am* getting back into it. I appreciate your patience.

For excuses and procrastination, there's no power greater than...

X
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Old February 15th, 2004, 09:09 PM
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Xyggurat!!!! You’re killing me!!! (in a good way) ;-)

I have been checking for the next chapter SO often that it is interfering with my schoolwork. I need to find out what happens next! I LOVE this story!

I love the way Phil has been slowly dragging out the defeat of Dane. The slow exchange of positions between Phil and Dane is SO HOT! By my calculations, Phil should now be larger than Dane – this means that what Phil said in chapter 5 has now come to pass… “Soon, I won’t even need to use my voice to control you. I want you to know what it’s like to be the little guy.”

I appreciate the fact that you want to see Dane come out the winner in this struggle. However, I would love to see Dane have to work for his victory (not like the quick ending of “Uneven Friends” by Killerwhale Zeus).

You are already doing a superb job with the story line, and I don’t want to interfere with your creative processes – however you’ve often asked for feedback and suggestions, so here are a couple of things that I think might be hot story developments.

1. Would love to see Phil getting more and more buff – the physical descriptions of Phil’s (and Jason’s) growth are phenomenal!

2. Now that Phil is physically able to dominate Dane – Phil could order Dane into a wrestling match. This could end up with Phil pinning Dane (cock to cock!) – a little mutual jacking by Phil could cause them both to cum simultaneously – with the obviously insanely HOT growth/shrinking sequence that follows (oooh – I’m getting light headed just thinking about it!). Although I would prefer this option, perhaps you might prefer to have something “special” happen when their semen is combined? Maybe their “powers” suffer a role reversal?

3. What effect does Phil’s semen have on others? For example, maybe Phil tries to reduce the size of Jason (and also seeing if he can make another “battery”). Phil could then engage in some “scientific” testing to see if there is a difference in the potency of Dane’s and Jason’s semen. This testing could be done directly on Phil himself, or perhaps Phil could find a couple of freshmen twins and have Dane and Jason administer to one twin each – I love the idea of having one of the twins ending up more muscular than the other!

4. If you were to make Jason into a battery, then maybe you could have Dane and Jason agree to get back at Phil by helping each other out. Dane could recover his size and Jason could get the “more” he was trying to get before (in chapter 9).

5. Dane could head back to the beach to see if he could find the storm drain (the source of Phil’s power). Immersion in the same water that gave Phil his power could give Dane his own “second puberty”, allowing him to recover his lost size. This would also give Dane the ability to shrink Phil, and to create his own “battery.” This could potentially lead into some sort of battle between Phil and Dane and their respective batteries.

These are just some of the wild and crazy ideas that arise every time I re-read this fantastic series. Please don’t end it here! I would love to see this extremely HOT story continue. Thanks for all of the hard work you’ve put into this story already.

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Old February 17th, 2004, 12:45 AM
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Wow!

Ever get that feeling that someone else should be doing your writing for you?

X

P.S. I really am working. I swear. There's just been so much on my plate of late (some food poisoning, my real roommates (none of whom would be at all attractive even if genetically altered), collegiate bureaucracy, and sheer writer's block) that I haven't been making much progress.

I *do* promise not to finish up the series with some quick and shoddy device just because I don't feel like writing for the moment. I also swear that I'll post a few more chapters up within the next month or so. Sooner rather than later, everything willing.
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Old February 17th, 2004, 02:55 PM
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Xyggurat,

May the musclegods be praised! I’m so glad to hear that you haven’t given up on this superb story.

Oops! Please don’t misinterpret my “suggestions” – I wasn’t trying to write the story for you! I was only trying to give your creative juices a friendly “nudge” (and also give you an idea of how much I’ve been anticipating the next chapters!) ;-)

I promise I'll try to be patient.
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Old February 18th, 2004, 07:25 PM
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nice story
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Old February 23rd, 2004, 01:26 PM
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We need more! :-) Keep up the great work!
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