No more Wickr for me

I used to be active on Wickr.me. The Wickr company was acquired by Amazon Web Services in 2021, and in late 2022 they announced that the wickr.me (personal) service would be discontinued by the end of 2023. (Info here: https://wickr.com/me/faqs/) No more new accounts have been available since December 31, 2022. Tonight, I deleted my account there - I haven't used it in a couple of years, anyway. I'm mentioning it in case anyone remembers me there.

Fiction: Gone as Far as You Could Go

By hangdogMI - January 2023

Rob eased himself into his chair in front of the computer and logged in to IRC. As usual, he was naked, just in case one of his chats tonight required quick access to his boner. Rob generally frequented channels like #noosem4m and #snuffmenow, where the topic was fantasies about deadly sex acts involving hanging, knives, guns, and other ways to cum and go at the same time. Over the last five or six months, he had been chatting with a guy named MrBruce about hanging from a noose. Lately they had been chatting about Rob hanging himself in real life, with MrBruce carefully but clearly encouraging him. It's not that Rob was depressed or anything, although he was sure a shrink would have something to say about a guy who kept thinking about hanging himself. It's just that Rob was turned on by nooses and strangling, and he had been since he was a teen. Now 32, he wanted to really experience it. It just seemed impossible to locate a hangman who would help him realize the fantasy. Rob figured he might end up having to hang himself, regardless of any safety issues. If it was that good, did it matter whether he snuffed it? In fact, the risk of snuffing it made it that much hotter.

MrBruce let him work this out online, all the while agreeing that Rob's young, slender, slightly hairy body would be hot hanging from a rope, swinging slowly in the breeze. The conversation was getting to a point where there wasn't much else to add, however. Rob had this quiet, nagging feeling that things had gone about as far as they could without going one more step, or backing out completely.

MrBruce came up on the "Notify" list when Rob got connected to #noosem4m. Rob was about to message him, when the incoming message sound played.

Hangdog's Cottage on BDSMLR.com

I just mentioned my BDSMLR page for the first time in this blog. Why I waited so long, I don't know. Hangdog's Cottage is small, and only a partial replacement for a Tumblr page I used to have. I've posted a few photos and reblogged some good stories and images from others so far. I haven't put any of my stories there yet; all of those are still only here on Blogger. If you're a BDSMLR member, stop by my cottage.

A literary mystery solved

An astute reader of my BDSMLR page sent me a link to the story I was asking about in July 2021: Hangman, by Storm Christopher "A city-beat newspaperman investigating a string of strange disappearances discovers a trail that leads him to the highest levels of power and deep into a cult of murder and corruption. There may be no escape! Another shocking and suspenseful tale from the dark imagination of Storm Christopher!" If you haven't read this, go get it. Only available in Kindle format, unless you grabbed it when it was posted to the old Noose Network. You will enjoy it.

A literary mystery

A few years ago I read a story that I enjoyed very much, yet did not save it to my story archives, to my long-lasting regret. I don't remember the title or the author. I read it in the Noose Network or the Breath Control Network, or possibly someone's personal blog of stories. Maybe readers can help me find it.

A reporter is tracking down what's causing a number of bodies being found dumped in a city, all bruised but most notably with rope ligature marks around their necks. He's gotten far enough with his investigation to be lurking outside a warehouse one evening, where he sees people walking up and entering. They look like people who shouldn't be in an area like this. Before he gets too close, he is accosted by some men and hustled inside the building. There he sees an amphitheatre with a large cage on the stage, and he learns that there will be fights to the death inside the cage for the assembling crowd. He begins to see notable local figures, including senior law enforcement and elected officials, and now he knows why there hasn't been much said about the bodies. So he's getting excited because now he has the story – then he gets told that he will be in one of the fights tonight.

I think the fighters are all male, one-on-one; they fight naked, using any style or means they can, clean or dirty; the loser is the one who gets dragged to a noose dangling at one end of the cage and hanged. I forget why most of them are there – maybe they're criminals, or political enemies, or I don't know. The journalist is in the cage to shut him up one way or the other. His fight is highly entertaining, and though the story has no sex, the fights have nudity and bashing and bruising and someone hangs from a rope at the end. What could be better?

That's all I will say about the plot and characters. The story itself is so well-written that I expect it has been published in a mainstream source, though I could be wrong about that. If I could remember who wrote it, I might have found it already.

So... do any of you know it? Or can even send me the story or a link to it? Please let me know in the comments.

A dead game in virtual reality

I didn't get a story done in June. But I do have a photo from SecondLife of what my avatar is doing there now:

Gus got hanged late on June 29th. He is nude, restrained with metal cuffs, gagged and blindfolded, and wearing a chastity cage. He is unable to adjust any of these because each piece has embedded coding that restricts the avatar's activity. He is hanging from a "display hook" that contains a timer and the same restricting scripts. He's in a public sim and vulnerable (in theory) to the whims of others. There's also a little sign that invites people to adjust the timer if they wish. (This is not usually encouraged, but my sign gives permission in my case.)

The rules of the "game" as I've devised them are, the timer may be adjusted - up or down, technically, but I'm only asking for up. As of this writing, he has two days and 22 hours to go. If the timer ever runs out, he goes home. If the timer gets increased, he stays. Now, I can't stay logged in 24/7 due to a system limitation I can't solve. So when I log out, and then log back in, if someone is in my spot, then I go home and the game is over. Otherwise, Gus is hanged naked and apparently dead.

I just updated Gus's profile to say this, and I even changed his name to a serial number. His profile designates his cousin, Rocky (actually an alternate avatar, or "alt," of mine) as the person to contact if anything comes up. Rocky has full power over everything.

This might sound potentially boring. I mean, dead people don't do much. Even if in SL they don't decay, they're pretty uninteractive. Here's the thing: This is day 5 of my "trip," and I'm still into it. I haven't been into the other things I've been doing lately, not to this extent. I've had some fun, but not as much fun as pretending to be dead has been. Between my knowledge of the system and Rocky, I can get out of this anytime I want to. I just don't want to.

Maybe with Gus quietly hanging dead, I can get some writing done.

Word from the long-lost

Entirely a fantasy. No, I'm fine, really. I have lots of story ideas, too.

He entered the dilapidated barn quietly. Standing still for a moment just inside the open sliding door, he looked around to get a sense of what he was looking for. Off to the left was an opening to a large empty area with exposed beams, and he went there. This part of the barn was darker but for skylight visible through a few gaps in the wooden boards high in the walls. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a naked male body dangling from one of the beams, its feet eighteen inches above the dirt floor of the barn. The body's hands were cuffed behind him, but his legs were untied. The hanged man was not moving. It looked like he hadn't moved for a while. The visitor moved a little closer.

“Hangdog... wake up,” the visitor said. He got very close and turned on a flashlight. Shining it in the hanged man's face, he said, louder, “Hangdog!”

“Unnnh,” came from the apparently not-quite-dead man. The visitor saw eyes open slightly then close in irritation.

“Wake up, dumbfuck.”

Hangdog opened his mouth. Though no words came out, the shape of his mouth seemed to indicate “Why?”

“You have stories to write, that's why. You have to get back to work.”

Hangdog's toes wiggled. The visitor wasn't sure what that meant. He could smell dried sweat from the hanged man's crotch, tinged with a little urine that might have dripped from his half-hard cock shortly after the hanging started. But he wasn't going to let himself be distracted from his quest by all that.

“I'm gonna let you down. We can't have this,” the visitor said as he went to where the far end of the noose-rope was tied to a cleat in the wall. He didn't see Hangdog mouth the words “Fuck, don't” and he wouldn't have cared if he did. The visitor untied the knot and let Hangdog down somewhat carefully, considering he was dealing with dead weight here. Hangdog lay on his side for a couple of moments before the visitor realized he might have to loosen the noose. When he did, Hangdog managed a couple of weak coughs.

“Don't say I never did anything for you,” the visitor said. “I want to see a new story online by the end of the month.” He started to walk away.

Hangdog struggled to sit up, finally managing a word flung weakly at the visitor's back: “Cuffs?”

The visitor stopped. “Oh.” He reached in his pocket and fished out a handcuff key.

“Here,” he said as he tossed it gently at Hangdog's chest.

Hangdog stared as the key slid down his chest into his crotch. “Thanks,” he said, the sarcasm lost in his throat's soreness.

The visitor turned and left. Hangdog took 25 minutes fumbling to pick up the key and work it into the lock in the cuffs behind him. By then his head was clear enough, and he could find his jeans and boots and head home.