Home made bondage gear
The Science Fiction Writers of America held their first annual-awards dinner this year, and there were a lot of new faces. But in among them—in black ties and formals instead of with torn pockets, and some sporting a (distinguished) touch of gray—were quite a few of the old s-f-and-space nuts: the people who (like me) begged, stole, and faked invitations, fifteen (or closer now to twenty) years ago, for the press preview ofDestination Moon projected on the Hayden Planetarium dome. "Dr. Proctor," I ask him one morning. "Is it possible for you to radiograph my koota? Shes very fine, from the fastest stock available, and Id like to breed her." So it was with certain knowledge that Prudence Egan confronted you. What I want to know is, why cant we do as much for the pigs? he demanded of Nan, ignoring, as always except when it suited him, Ash’s presence. Hogs are way down; I could get me some bred sows cheap. He could work his hocus-pocus—I can just see what litters they’d have.” You should take him back to Mexico City and put him in one of the cabarets. Hed make more than a dollar. The box score: Well, I did not turn around. There was, from Mr. Spardleton, one of those silences that can be felt, an ominous suggestive silence that fills a room. Mr. Clarke noticed it and said,Whats the matter? I decided I would not need a pad after all, so I went back and sat down without it. These men-things needed light constantly. They could notsee without light. There would be more heaters, more lamps, campfires, chandeliers, matches, flares, movies, candles, sparklers, flashlights— (“Grow!Grow! GROW!”) He stood just inside the light from the last opening, staring up at the Stellarplex, its glare lost in his ruined face. As he raised his left hand— when it started to move I thought it looked too big — light caught on the silver joints of the master-gauntlet he was wearing. I knew where the power was going. Slap! Miss Luptik clapped her hands. I fell five miles, breaking to pieces. Talk about timing. One minute before the bell, Miss Luptik returned us to the world. The Twerliks brain throbbed with this cramming. To ease the pain, it used a fraction of the energy it had absorbed from the fires of the rocket, and enlarged the surface of the thinking section. Wisely—for it was growing wiser by the moment—it overenlarged it, that it might not again know pain should more concepts try to engrave themselves upon its consciousness. And just in time, too. For it suddenly needed room for concepts of foresight, prudence, headache, remedy and alertness. Im afraid not, said Max, indicating the weighted-down lid. We can’t get at the starting switch.” I was a teenage space-nut. Im still a space-nut—but, I mean, space. Not the Space Race. Not the Missile Gap, or even Rocket Generations. Not even (to my own surprise) most of the Astronauts. the black crone: Later, if hes humble. You understand me, Slave? If I tell you have your wife cook dinner for the girls or wash their feet or watch you snuggle with them, then you gotta do it. And your boy gotta run our errands. Come over here now and sit by Flossie while I brand you with dry ice. I woke up next morning in a fourposter. Frenchy, in a red silk nightdress and negligee was bending over me with a cup of coffee. I hauled myself up, noticing my blue silk pyjamas, and took the cup..
