Conversion Part V (Waiting for Ross #10) The heat was intensifying between my shaved-to-smoothness scalp and the rubber that gripped it, and I found myself musing about whether the troubling thoughts could be explained by my brain overheating, baking inside my rubber-encapsulated head. I knew from experience that my body, simmering with hotness and sweat, eventually would adjust to the unnatural rubberized state imposed on it, but I wasn’t so sure about my mind. I exhaled through the gag as I laughed to myself: Maybe my mind was turning feverish, melting on top of the sweltering, rubberized mass of hard, over-exercised muscles under it, all pumped up with blood but compressed by rubber, beefy meat in a black latex pressure cooker. Whatever the explanation, my thoughts were fermenting, boiling up and over, roasting according to a recipe of conflicting ingredients. I was home alone on Saturday night, sitting at my computer in view of the webcam. Despite my resistant thoughts, I had j...
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