tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52553242066337058442024-03-05T15:30:51.625+00:00Mutatis MutandisA fairly ecclectic Transformation Blog featuring TG, animal, inanimate, and other transformations.
Also shit writing and bad banana puns.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger35125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-44309915846639599382011-02-18T10:58:00.000+00:002011-02-18T10:58:24.215+00:00Trial By AlgorithmMutatis Mutandis can now be found - <a href="https://mutandismutatis.wordpress.com/">here.</a><br />
<br />
<i>'After reviewing our records, we've determined that your AdSense account<br />
poses a risk of generating invalid activity.'</i><br />
<br />
Blegh. Not the best email to wake up to. Apparently my blogs have been generating illegal ad revenue, despite never encouraging or soliciting people to click adverts in any way, so my adsense account has been disabled and the meagre revenue I'd been trying for the last year to build to the point where they actually pay out has been wiped. Which sucks.<br />
<br />
Its also strange, in that I got nerd rage when they changed my email address, but now that they've nicked £20 off me I couldn't care less. I'm just going to take my ball and go to wordpress which, while not paying ad revenue either, doesn't make you feel like a criminal while not doing it.<br />
<br />
It also has the added benefit of not looking and functioning like a pile of crap.<br />
<br />
Sorry for the inconvenience of this. I hope I'll see you over there.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://mutandismutatis.wordpress.com/">Linky</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-58501702063571490652011-02-15T22:51:00.001+00:002011-02-15T22:51:36.574+00:00Final Poll Results and New PollThe final results are in. Thanks to everyone who voted.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Your favourite TF</i><br />
<i>Gender: 12 (23%)</i><br />
<i>Animal: 6 (11%)</i><br />
<i>Inanimate: 49 (94%)</i><br />
<i>Other: 4 (7%)</i><br />
<br />
A new poll is also up. Would people prefer it if I spit the blog into seperate blogs focusing on a particular type of transformation i.e. a blog for inanimate TF and a blog for animal TF?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-55954116791190510882011-02-15T17:24:00.003+00:002011-02-15T19:32:24.249+00:00Miss Dee Rection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCe8I96O8A2M7rFYbApH_0Y-mnNv3r1o3uVhW-Afb3O16hw_ooa2cm7ImidE2EAbJkAqtemQPVFfqKxox4SikshJt6P5e-u2tF5bgzobirPbqge8OEaimYMDT5md4KP6P2wiHu9xI_Oe8/s1600/flexible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCe8I96O8A2M7rFYbApH_0Y-mnNv3r1o3uVhW-Afb3O16hw_ooa2cm7ImidE2EAbJkAqtemQPVFfqKxox4SikshJt6P5e-u2tF5bgzobirPbqge8OEaimYMDT5md4KP6P2wiHu9xI_Oe8/s400/flexible.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This bodysuit is amazing. Nobody would ever guess that inside this flexible body is an overweight 50-year old man.<br />
After my arthritis got so bad that I had to start using this suit full time, the hardest part was having to relearn all my old tricks. Guys weren't intimidated by this body anymore but they easily underestimated me. Even after I hustled them they never realised it, or if they did they never seemed to mind.<br />
Having their eyes on me and not the game works great too, and II'm always finding new ways to draw their gaze. This is one of my favourites. Judging by the cue stick in the front of my opponent's trousers I think it's working.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-19107070235716054902011-02-14T21:24:00.002+00:002011-02-15T06:44:11.056+00:00Bra Hero<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA46LADr5XQnkxbSdsqwVcjnjihlrmxAka3Z9LpgrQjlEsDjrZx-k8bJNpvH-MOQQmjnTB65FVMtGYciX7T-ja-2Vhoduq2XxHWXHzOIvwwN4zyuqtG-vULnODaLhVix4_UhkPIxvjboY/s1600/guitar_hero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA46LADr5XQnkxbSdsqwVcjnjihlrmxAka3Z9LpgrQjlEsDjrZx-k8bJNpvH-MOQQmjnTB65FVMtGYciX7T-ja-2Vhoduq2XxHWXHzOIvwwN4zyuqtG-vULnODaLhVix4_UhkPIxvjboY/s400/guitar_hero.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
Bra: Ungh... babe...this is...amazing but... I think you made me too small...I can't contain you...it feels like I'm going to explode...<br />
Mandy: Shush! Bra's are supposed to be supportive, not complain all the time!<br />
Bra: But...it...hurts...<br />
Mandy: Great, now you made me break my multiplier! I'm not turning you back for atleast another song.<br />
*volume up*<br />
Bra: Nghh...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-80845556011201935052011-02-13T21:31:00.005+00:002011-02-13T22:47:32.399+00:00Grrrrr! RambleramblerambleWarning! Angry rant follows...<br />
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<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Has anybody tried to manage their Google accounts? It's a convoluted, twisted hellish nightmare akin to Brazil. In general I go out of my way to keep my real internet life and my TF-posting internet life seperated, but it seems every time you make a gmail account or a youtube account, google insists on trying to clump them all together into one hideous amalgamate blob of an account, which has about three email addresses and four passwords, none of which can be relied on to work at any given moment.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I set up a Gmail account for the sake of setting up a fake, throwaway Facebook account. Signing into my google account later, I suddenly discover that the new account is now my primary Gmail/Blogger/Google account. And nothing can be done to seperate them back into their component useful / fake-and-throwaway parts, or to even change the primary email address to the old one that I actually use, or even to a gmail account more in line with my online moniker. At no point did I check a box or hint that I wanted the two accounts even remotely associated with each other. Checking the forums reveals that this problem has been around since 2009. So I'm kinda stuffed.<br />
<br />
I can't even explain the problem fully because the whole thing is such a confusing, incomprehensible mess. I feel like a fly wrapped up in a spiderweb and the more I struggle the more entangled and trapped I get. <br />
<br />
Anywho, this problem essentially brought to light the considerable energy I put into keeping my TF interests seperate and secret from friends and family, and the inherent instability of the situation. Having such a long and sordid internet past, it seems only a matter of time before one of the loose ends gives the whole game away.<br />
<br />
Ah well. Guess I'll have to just have to work on damage control for when the big reveal comes. My current favourite excuse is that a pop up made me do it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-38545325424695265792011-02-13T12:35:00.001+00:002011-02-13T12:36:00.520+00:00The Bachelor Party"Guys, I said no strippers," Jeff laughed as his friends tied him to the table. "If Mary found out she'd..."<br />
His voice and his laughter trailed off as his best man brought into a room not a stripper, but a can of pink spray paint. As they coated his body with it, he felt his skin thicken into gaudy, pink plastic and his flesh melt away. In no time at all, he had become a love doll tied to the table in the back room of some seedy club.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zTWh-cqpWWBfG3IDehXBRgdgpc8e5K75WHJoOdC__tskQizWRpabbb9HUdKUoy1rL5ST5e7Y6kNkWFw3OOpWwBNjG7RSwLtM6v11voqc5Ev5YjtVsTwz5txfZ8lzXJulfUKJJf79KP8/s1600/love+doll+bondage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zTWh-cqpWWBfG3IDehXBRgdgpc8e5K75WHJoOdC__tskQizWRpabbb9HUdKUoy1rL5ST5e7Y6kNkWFw3OOpWwBNjG7RSwLtM6v11voqc5Ev5YjtVsTwz5txfZ8lzXJulfUKJJf79KP8/s320/love+doll+bondage.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><br />
<i>It is a bachelor party</i>, he reasoned, as his drunken friends shoved a funnel into his puckered mouth and began to drag a keg of beer over. <i>This sort of stuff is supposed to happen.</i><br />
The beer began to flow into the funnel; the room swam around his head as his body swelled with alcohol.<br />
<i>I just hope one of them is sober enough in the morning to remember to change me back.</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-10031402881112611982011-02-11T11:57:00.000+00:002011-02-11T11:57:19.364+00:00Morning After<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MVh_ONqpYH730KCdrOyWnU_4vVpwGFzNTc00AUstYOagxmJs22LvBCEGJVMTEVjLT0mDnJ4i_Utr0OEkMOGZgCqQHq05Q9IbZ2ir9RkFMO_sYHbHj87gQxxlz-vqR747ADNNHHbrwq4/s1600/t-m_gynoid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MVh_ONqpYH730KCdrOyWnU_4vVpwGFzNTc00AUstYOagxmJs22LvBCEGJVMTEVjLT0mDnJ4i_Utr0OEkMOGZgCqQHq05Q9IbZ2ir9RkFMO_sYHbHj87gQxxlz-vqR747ADNNHHbrwq4/s400/t-m_gynoid.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>You're finally awake! Quite a party last night, huh? You're the last to leave.<br />
The costume? Well after I caught you boning my girlfriend in my bed I dumped her and you were so drunk you fell asleep. So I upgraded you. You're her replacement.<br />
Did I say you were the last to <i>leave</i>? Silly me. The suit restricts your movements the closer you get to the door. Take one step outside and it renders you totally immobile.<br />
Anyway I've got some spare organs left over from your upgrade. Be a good gynoid and flush those for me? Thanks. After that there's some dishes that need cleaning. And after that I think I'll take your new chassis out for a test drive.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-41494418615356553512011-02-08T22:57:00.001+00:002011-02-08T22:59:35.788+00:00Lazy Unseasonal Transformation Happy Fun Time!I have to say that I'm being royally trounced in terms of both quality and reliability of content by the amazing writer of <a href="http://tfcaps.blogspot.com/?zx=cc77b8f6b1d027e8">TF Captions</a>, not to mention the excellent user-submitted captions over on <a href="http://purseboy.wordpress.com/">Purse Boy</a>. Yet I cant say I don't enjoy them massively, and I'll take inspiration<span style="font-size: xx-small;">/steal ideas</span> wherever I can.<br />
<br />
This week has been hectic, so here is another story that I'm repossessing from my distant past. This is starting to feel like graverobbing myself. I hope that by friday my mojo will be back and I'll be able to write something new, if not necesarilly original.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Going Cold Turkey</u></b><br />
<br />
<div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">As a Witch, </span><span lang="en-gb">Wanda was quite capable of brewing glory, bottling fame, and even putting a stopper in death. But she couldn't, for the life of her, cook Christmas dinner for friends without cremating and mutilating half of a farm. She glared in frustration at the assemblage of burnt, undercooked, and/or oddly shaped dishes laid out on the table before her and knew, with her guests arriving at any minute, she was going to have to play her ace in the hole.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">After last year's Christmas dinner disaster, she'd </span><span lang="en-gb">taken time out to master a spell that was capable of making a feast out of anything. Closing her eyes, she sank into a deep, spellcasting trance.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">Ian</span><span lang="en-gb"> was the first to arrive at the witch's house and was sufficiently old enough a friend to let himself in. He found the dining room in a state of chaos: Wanda standing at the head of the table chanting a spell, magic energy dancing through the air like lighting, and the food on the table morphing before his eyes. He moved closer to watch a pile of brussel sprouts jumping out of their burnt outer skins, and inhaled the thickening aroma of delicious food. It was to be his last breath.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">The spell glittering above the table bore down on him suddenly, like lightning grounding itself, </span><span lang="en-gb">scanned him, and quickly approximating this new anomalous mass into the magic mental blueprint of a perfect Christmas dinner currently in the spellcaster's head.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"<span lang="en-gb">Smells deli-" he began, but he was cut-off as his mouth suddenly filled with a sweet and spicy, cloggy mass. He coughed and choked, vomiting up lumps of sage and onion stuffing onto the tablecloth, but he couldn't clear his airways. He clutched his throat for air as the stuffing went south, flooding down his gullet, filling and replacing his lungs and working its way out from there. Desperate for oxygen, he fell heavily against the table, only to find his hands lose substance beneath him, sending him crashing forward. The spell guided his fall towards a wide, flat dish in the centre of the table. He landed hard with his limbs splayed awkwardly, as the hands and feet shrivelled off the ends into meaty stumps. The stuffing expanded inside him, plumping and rounding out his torso.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">All he could manage in such a position was a desperate wriggle, which became completely constrained as his clothes turned into string that bound his swelling body and shrinking limbs. Trussed up like a Christmas turkey, he could only watch as a gravy boat hovered magically off the table and doused him in scalding sauce, which permeated him with a powerful heat and left his skin sporting a succulent, golden-brown glaze.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">The spell was almost complete. The vegetables finished arranging themselves into beautiful pyramids. The garlic bread finished buttering itself. His skeletal structure finished being stretched and fused into that of a bird, and his head shrank without trace into his cooked carcass of a body.</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" lang="en-gb" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb">Wanda</span><span lang="en-gb"> snapped out of her trance. As she looked down at the largest roast turkey she'd ever seen with rapt hunger in her eyes, Ian knew that his goose was well and truly cooked</span></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVHzLtA0qJjlFg9kmUgVIVQaN019MqGweeJhLrl86MUDCVNNh3E8-qmAYk2lKexaX_28W9xM-k5LSMzUJFxIO3P7zUCYiTTahasrPGHerWiwCoUbiVYkQWx3Rc3BRQ7pRaQPcslNWrpw/s1600/turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVHzLtA0qJjlFg9kmUgVIVQaN019MqGweeJhLrl86MUDCVNNh3E8-qmAYk2lKexaX_28W9xM-k5LSMzUJFxIO3P7zUCYiTTahasrPGHerWiwCoUbiVYkQWx3Rc3BRQ7pRaQPcslNWrpw/s320/turkey.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div _mce_style="margin-bottom: 0in;" class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="en-gb"> </span> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-51334164818678082062011-02-08T07:33:00.000+00:002011-02-08T07:33:32.779+00:00Girly SaladsToday's post features a caption kindly donated by <a href="http://gugubu.wordpress.com/">Gugubu</a>, as I'm a too tired to throw anything together in even a slop bucket way <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SvfphpPOhTERe6xWihshUKdX15fH5UHXt2Ytb-LP61lRSj3JCtJy8b3N12OIaYZpyf1kjsOjo3cDQL25qR_b9HNRmEPuvLGQonWT1-QmbQqLF-_BYZRzA_nWBpadwl6vChbvDhGyrqk/s1600/girly_salads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SvfphpPOhTERe6xWihshUKdX15fH5UHXt2Ytb-LP61lRSj3JCtJy8b3N12OIaYZpyf1kjsOjo3cDQL25qR_b9HNRmEPuvLGQonWT1-QmbQqLF-_BYZRzA_nWBpadwl6vChbvDhGyrqk/s400/girly_salads.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-11743396603416033142011-02-06T21:45:00.000+00:002011-02-06T21:45:29.203+00:00In the doghouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_PwKRc9_4YKUVj2mrmO94CuJyVT8mlidbNZHbmsj3o-y-Hm0qQm_ikh5X4ep8yqx6hu65384BOn7sV62vtOvgrKZaDjuKC7cNTiFu1d10Fomz3wE5i44WF2HjFRnF8koi_t2nmZaTqQ/s1600/Dog+Training.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL_PwKRc9_4YKUVj2mrmO94CuJyVT8mlidbNZHbmsj3o-y-Hm0qQm_ikh5X4ep8yqx6hu65384BOn7sV62vtOvgrKZaDjuKC7cNTiFu1d10Fomz3wE5i44WF2HjFRnF8koi_t2nmZaTqQ/s400/Dog+Training.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It doesn't matter how much you beg, George, no means no. You're not sleeping on the bed tonight, or ever again for that matter. It was a nasty trick you pulled using my spell book to swap bodies with the dog without telling me. How did you think I would feel when I found out the man I just had amazing sex with used to be an animal. Did you think I'd laugh?<br />
<br />
But you didn't expect that Lucky would make a better husband than you ever were. He's so doting and obediant, and he's even starting to learn a few words. In the bedroom he's loving and caring, not to mention energetic.<br />
<br />
And since you can't speak the reversal spell with your dog mouth, that's the way life is going to stay. So be a good boy and go to your kennel. It sounds like Lucky is back from his walk, and I think he's about to get "lucky".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-9627616185566620652011-02-06T18:21:00.002+00:002011-02-06T20:33:45.894+00:00"There's something you should know about me"This isn't a post as such, but I wanted to try uploading a video to youtube as I'm considering having a go at video editing, like TG tales. Alas due to a content claim, embedding it in the blog was fail, and it'll probably get removed shortly.<br />
Either way, here's the clip from the film Inception. If you haven't seen it is amazing, and features a brief TG halfway through where an identity forger disguises himself as dream woman within a dream within a dream.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUt1OzgcENw">Inception Clip</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-7977752555310414142011-02-04T11:33:00.003+00:002011-02-05T12:03:49.968+00:00The Second Rule of Witch Club...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmOUi09KoE7BtBeSmAqVjeqFWyVIzAVFMr64h3yBvo1TSs0u5QQlKL6fILMl0v4ACBQNDEYH2egRcEWT6FhYkIWMGV66H6RGmyunJv1WRtiGGxx9DFwqX0blKjf1_orhVS8ouHUARxtU/s1600/purplelatex2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmOUi09KoE7BtBeSmAqVjeqFWyVIzAVFMr64h3yBvo1TSs0u5QQlKL6fILMl0v4ACBQNDEYH2egRcEWT6FhYkIWMGV66H6RGmyunJv1WRtiGGxx9DFwqX0blKjf1_orhVS8ouHUARxtU/s320/purplelatex2.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>Even as a witch with incredible powers, my sister was always a coward. She wanted to break up with her boyfriend but she didn't have the guts to do it. So she bodyswapped us and told me if I didn't break up with him for her she'd never turn us back. Then she morphed herself into a dress so that she could keep an eye on us.<br />
<br />
Waiting at the bar for him to arrive, I tugged awkwardly at the purple dress she had become, feeling massively exposed as I smoothed the tight fabric over my butt. I was started to wish I'd figured out how to put on a bra before coming here. Then I saw him. He was hot. Super hot. As he eyes ran up and down my body in hunger, I knew then that I wanted this body. All it took were a few, simple words whispered into his ear.<br />
<br />
"I'm a witch."<br />
<br />
The first rule of witch club: You do not talk about witch club. To reveal your powers to a mortal is to forfeight them forever. The entire bar turned as my dress screamed in pain and anger, as its magical powers were stolen from it. It was still cursing me as I left the bar draped over its boyfriend's arm. In all fairness, I had done what she asked; he was no longer her boyfriend. He was mine.<br />
<br />
She didn't last long. That night he ripped her to shreds getting to my body. Only then did she finally fall silent.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-44682144464744709802011-02-04T01:00:00.001+00:002011-02-04T01:00:48.896+00:00Fembrace the Future<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid11it_vHM3UFf6KAW3nQAMPcgEEXnsRTMD4diqAGFOjRax6lHsD9N_ktRUa5AD2TOVGu9jZtFVqW0ByxCvpEfJFYlRxeHpMVQIoKtrA60QkaAPd-_ngELKFREEOG7g3nHaKV0Jud-glQ/s1600/fashion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid11it_vHM3UFf6KAW3nQAMPcgEEXnsRTMD4diqAGFOjRax6lHsD9N_ktRUa5AD2TOVGu9jZtFVqW0ByxCvpEfJFYlRxeHpMVQIoKtrA60QkaAPd-_ngELKFREEOG7g3nHaKV0Jud-glQ/s320/fashion.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Figure 4.3</td></tr>
</tbody></table><u>Fembrace</u><br />
<br />
Invented by BodySlim in 2015, the Fembrace bodystocking was one of the earliest examples of today's modern bodysuit. While hardly revolutionary in any particular area, the Fembrace effectively combined full-body application of flesh-like padding and corset-like constriction to contour the form of its wearer, and at a reasonable price. Initially aimed at women, the Fembrace quickly gained notoriety for its remarkable ability to stretch and squeeze even male bodies into its svelt, feminine template <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Fig 4.3)</span>. A number of high profile court cases filed by individuals tricked by males wearing the garments helped to boost its infamy and sales.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCJipIbH7dg_UGAvCkrw02PDSGsBcaaN9DFo155ncq68idkaIpt5yO-S10WQOMn1xPcE4nD9LTvnrGU1wRrZalGZ5fIT6boEMqPjPG7vdNcw5_922lD29GC7Q7ivTtLebwYgZXVD71TE/s1600/Fig4.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCJipIbH7dg_UGAvCkrw02PDSGsBcaaN9DFo155ncq68idkaIpt5yO-S10WQOMn1xPcE4nD9LTvnrGU1wRrZalGZ5fIT6boEMqPjPG7vdNcw5_922lD29GC7Q7ivTtLebwYgZXVD71TE/s320/Fig4.4.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Fig4.4</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Fembrace II, released in 2018 after years of secretive development, upgraded the original with a seamless design and flesh-coloured outer layer to more accurately mimic human skin <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Fig4.4)</span>. The suits also contained an experimental voice modulator, and a deep-penetrating ultrasonic feature that semi-liquidated adipose tissue, allowing fat to be permanently redistributed around the body, which was discontinued after a series of health scares.<br />
<br />
Though lacking nervous system integration, extradimensional matter displacement, or even a facial covering, the Fembrace was nevertheless the progenitor of all modern bodysuits. Intact originals are a collectors item and have been sold at auction for up to 1,500,000 Credits.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-65345425643051641862011-02-03T23:27:00.000+00:002011-02-03T23:27:43.886+00:00PSAThanks to <span>Vince Ueberroth for being my first follower. The vote of confidence is much appreciated.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-84158061886095468742011-02-03T20:57:00.005+00:002011-02-05T15:19:34.080+00:00Call me when the swelling goes down<b>The Doctor:</b> What is the meaning of this? I did not give you permission to tamper with my programming! Just because the three of us are flying reconnaissance alone for three weeks is no excuse to swap my code with that of Vulcan love slave, volume two!.<br />
<br />
<b>Tom Paris:</b> Great. He still sounds like the Doc. Can't you do anything about the voice?<br />
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<b>Ensign Kim:</b> Uhh, no. But I think I can adjust his behavioural subruitines. *beep*<br />
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<b>The Doctor:</b> *kneels* Please state the nature of the sexual emergency.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaedtsO1sEsKm_vufQjlw9rYyv6SmVVt1DqeJEyEzh2Y8eiaba02g9AzGlcVH9JjAbQXIHZu5sc9bbYJ1g0mI2bf19p0uyZd7eTuIZCc4vACKaIBRJJPIxoFlV1fXYLK3e1e70kOYAvdY/s1600/JB1000_%252810%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaedtsO1sEsKm_vufQjlw9rYyv6SmVVt1DqeJEyEzh2Y8eiaba02g9AzGlcVH9JjAbQXIHZu5sc9bbYJ1g0mI2bf19p0uyZd7eTuIZCc4vACKaIBRJJPIxoFlV1fXYLK3e1e70kOYAvdY/s320/JB1000_%252810%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-10507960132074298262011-02-02T22:11:00.001+00:002011-02-02T22:11:54.086+00:00Midas Touch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-e27ZQGEq2THNdHHrkTnyO144lBOh8focRL6vCe-1xVDlYbVVNmjaUDvRVeqMSUOpq_v6XmJ80kRTZopJKuX0utxLiPclXUEOOJ5nSzAljZgRctI1VKAt5Cdi0SmN7xQq6yBgjE2v3w/s1600/n_a7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-e27ZQGEq2THNdHHrkTnyO144lBOh8focRL6vCe-1xVDlYbVVNmjaUDvRVeqMSUOpq_v6XmJ80kRTZopJKuX0utxLiPclXUEOOJ5nSzAljZgRctI1VKAt5Cdi0SmN7xQq6yBgjE2v3w/s320/n_a7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWBQIXTS_WYuyo4dD-MZKVFIJoiuEBAVt61ya6KhWqXVfcPlIkdGsNTmiEJOyeS2MfVovLR7fuQ9r56qaZ36xrsJmD7s7w0fIpxsNXSwjUfjNByWaKhELRZ_c5b1yvuYZaDXpniPNHgg/s1600/n_a8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWBQIXTS_WYuyo4dD-MZKVFIJoiuEBAVt61ya6KhWqXVfcPlIkdGsNTmiEJOyeS2MfVovLR7fuQ9r56qaZ36xrsJmD7s7w0fIpxsNXSwjUfjNByWaKhELRZ_c5b1yvuYZaDXpniPNHgg/s320/n_a8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtXw-Lhnc4KtRvqtu691XvehVA4opwbFmK4oV88haYLQElLgSm4GLI_Gedz3qPfilAMqhpXKDH1-h1WC0rLIVWv2FQoFBu0RtTKMpegTJ0o__OlVf0ctYHrqlaxt62Sdil1rn2w1h48E/s1600/n_a9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtXw-Lhnc4KtRvqtu691XvehVA4opwbFmK4oV88haYLQElLgSm4GLI_Gedz3qPfilAMqhpXKDH1-h1WC0rLIVWv2FQoFBu0RtTKMpegTJ0o__OlVf0ctYHrqlaxt62Sdil1rn2w1h48E/s320/n_a9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-17345964076716623612011-02-02T22:10:00.000+00:002011-02-02T22:10:28.224+00:00Braternity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLuuZK5wXq91QqzB1pJBdywMT4lLpI4DlDHvtHIcVt1GCCFOQFCPSv2I0C8QhAfYY994GDWg3ZML45coW69y-wW7snNOx_HRb7bPQ5JJERLCmGGLq1SoGcuY6F6HiixmIzXRbNnOxEwQ/s1600/n_a4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLuuZK5wXq91QqzB1pJBdywMT4lLpI4DlDHvtHIcVt1GCCFOQFCPSv2I0C8QhAfYY994GDWg3ZML45coW69y-wW7snNOx_HRb7bPQ5JJERLCmGGLq1SoGcuY6F6HiixmIzXRbNnOxEwQ/s320/n_a4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBB6kM1QwLKtHtoVz3svJgNoZVpzR0qoXQqx_O1jt_2A0QSs7OlZGAlfYoNmAAOT0VV7Gz5tKr1SoZKEXuOidDSZPEhllH3PczhQD2qMGadnqW5EwjvwFzGcFMaxr3zCTTXfkR7T7PqU/s1600/n_a5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQBB6kM1QwLKtHtoVz3svJgNoZVpzR0qoXQqx_O1jt_2A0QSs7OlZGAlfYoNmAAOT0VV7Gz5tKr1SoZKEXuOidDSZPEhllH3PczhQD2qMGadnqW5EwjvwFzGcFMaxr3zCTTXfkR7T7PqU/s320/n_a5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl6B2Vz8YyZVJ5b3zpieBiAnSr-FjMdxkd1YKBcylVNogch9Y7ggmatBKA7_9UB2AEbucsKNoSXzSxjSsXidVRE1f-BPyy5ZAYTj_WlsFzNwLq3wPtInsXUIm6Q4T7Bc8y8SKasUfZV4/s1600/n_a6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl6B2Vz8YyZVJ5b3zpieBiAnSr-FjMdxkd1YKBcylVNogch9Y7ggmatBKA7_9UB2AEbucsKNoSXzSxjSsXidVRE1f-BPyy5ZAYTj_WlsFzNwLq3wPtInsXUIm6Q4T7Bc8y8SKasUfZV4/s320/n_a6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-70502415839290487212011-02-02T21:00:00.001+00:002011-02-02T22:09:23.878+00:00Leonardo DicapritatedSorry for the zero caps yesterday; I've been super busy/asleep. To half-arsedly compensate, here are some captions that I threw together three years ago for Yahoo Groups.<br />
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They were lazy captions then, and they're doubly lazy captions now. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR27GDf-Pr2fp73r98P47qJVwLTh5F3t3qoXrcLkLOupg6Bzyvy_lJUiGD0sw7WiZAvfPE1G2ePD0CTt3abgQImg5t2p7kzgswOpYmAifH3pRONUwSaT2H4nRciuan0nYPN_yWqlFQCmQ/s1600/n_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR27GDf-Pr2fp73r98P47qJVwLTh5F3t3qoXrcLkLOupg6Bzyvy_lJUiGD0sw7WiZAvfPE1G2ePD0CTt3abgQImg5t2p7kzgswOpYmAifH3pRONUwSaT2H4nRciuan0nYPN_yWqlFQCmQ/s320/n_a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5J0yjoON8-QaV8M2fY04LzMVPdkKdralPTtjNBCoHa_oMnHQUwOZwXaDVtsrhYYP0cki2APthm44h62H7NO-j97-ONMzlzH6NJifOAd-KVxgqVvZgqS3_o2hW2FOjxvro8TFuxTWAKA/s1600/n_a2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL5J0yjoON8-QaV8M2fY04LzMVPdkKdralPTtjNBCoHa_oMnHQUwOZwXaDVtsrhYYP0cki2APthm44h62H7NO-j97-ONMzlzH6NJifOAd-KVxgqVvZgqS3_o2hW2FOjxvro8TFuxTWAKA/s320/n_a2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mO2hkBc0zY3vt0dDc8VRtqpfB4hSC2SY3Sjtc98aA5209632eJcLoSsWvfBoBgtz_aIQssAOa2xCjlmoaSh1L68RiIv8njQu86FedbOvP0vI7RsvSmE-IkHRd36XlUcxt6CdTMUupao/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mO2hkBc0zY3vt0dDc8VRtqpfB4hSC2SY3Sjtc98aA5209632eJcLoSsWvfBoBgtz_aIQssAOa2xCjlmoaSh1L68RiIv8njQu86FedbOvP0vI7RsvSmE-IkHRd36XlUcxt6CdTMUupao/s320/Untitled.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-29994757637958766672011-01-31T18:20:00.001+00:002011-02-01T00:17:48.868+00:00Public Service AnnouncementThanks to everyone who has voted on the poll. Can't say I was expecting it to slant in favour of inanimate transformations to such a degree, which is fascinating. Honestly, one of the best aspects of a blog is watching all the stats roll in.<br />
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It is also really useful as I'm essentially flying blind in terms of what people like. If you have any other suggestions, requests, or complants, feel free to post them in the Requests page.<br />
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Also sorry for the shitty cherry pun. I'm not even sure if it makes sense.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-70968436364062900162011-01-31T18:06:00.001+00:002011-01-31T18:22:10.423+00:00In a (c)hairy situation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTtAXQUkAzr_ACrs5Q4UPvmdUYz5qdy8X6-bTqqeWxA0IGHWdAZ2n3EXGqE8KaJgolot6HcpR5OYCplchrBR-zzHQl1chcyLJI5MaRHFM5JR6qvx66pNLMif6v4GCMERUCCuGytMekTI/s1600/Kim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTtAXQUkAzr_ACrs5Q4UPvmdUYz5qdy8X6-bTqqeWxA0IGHWdAZ2n3EXGqE8KaJgolot6HcpR5OYCplchrBR-zzHQl1chcyLJI5MaRHFM5JR6qvx66pNLMif6v4GCMERUCCuGytMekTI/s320/Kim.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>After finding an alien device capable of rewriting a person's DNA, the first thing I did was use it to turn myself into a duplicate of the school bitch, Kim. I wanted to see what it was like on the other side of the gender fence. Immediately I knew I never wanted to leave this body. It was so sensitive and sensual. I found an instant craving for ice cream.<br />
The device also helped me take care of the original. The expression on her face when I confronted her in her own body nd her cheeks bloated with cherry juice is one I'll happilly take to her grave.<br />
I've saved her till last. I hope she's sweeter in this life than she was in the last.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-12619561880893672562011-01-31T09:40:00.000+00:002011-01-31T09:40:58.746+00:00Shelf life II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGNF6lLY_hhq6wREfBVuT9alGoOCHAYxal3G-Sc5tqbctW2xadsw6a8mryBtS6UfSIKL2GyIhGae6qefeubi08j1KSt74stJmL4WYlLmopDhhtF_6OqZmQSUs-wFO2T5V2eAdL3in1wk/s1600/07038540.interactive.a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWGNF6lLY_hhq6wREfBVuT9alGoOCHAYxal3G-Sc5tqbctW2xadsw6a8mryBtS6UfSIKL2GyIhGae6qefeubi08j1KSt74stJmL4WYlLmopDhhtF_6OqZmQSUs-wFO2T5V2eAdL3in1wk/s320/07038540.interactive.a.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br />
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This creep couldn't wait to get me home. Nothing I say affects him. When I told him I'm a guy that just made him more excited, and now that he knows if he uses me I'll be trapped this way forever he's racing to get naked. What a dick. If I was still a man I'd tear him a new love hole.<br />
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Here he comes. *gulp* Wh-what a dick! I hope my girlfriend gets here soon or I won't be a "beginner" love doll for much longer.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-63771000255912667692011-01-31T02:10:00.001+00:002011-01-31T02:17:34.707+00:00Shelf life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfAkZDS7HK_iUzyX89BaYB1CzReYoBlNNHIeof_FWRWDsq6ZhiJj34FJprgr1h2VT5pPJbkbrT4u4-RluxMFKOHuTHb4IZkwYIOPFC1eF1B9Wb2A8P5kANLvd_8-Ofg4k11xa8VuVkIY/s1600/2501667760045211817rJhcsz_fs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfAkZDS7HK_iUzyX89BaYB1CzReYoBlNNHIeof_FWRWDsq6ZhiJj34FJprgr1h2VT5pPJbkbrT4u4-RluxMFKOHuTHb4IZkwYIOPFC1eF1B9Wb2A8P5kANLvd_8-Ofg4k11xa8VuVkIY/s320/2501667760045211817rJhcsz_fs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Look, Sir, this is probably breaking the Magician's Code or some bullshit, but I'm only up here because my girlfriend transformed me. It was a joke. She works here and if you'll just wait for her to get back from her dinner break-<br />
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Yes, I know I've got a price tag, but that doesn't mean I'm for sale! Wouldn't you rather have the JennaBustin model? Please.<br />
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What do you mean you like my audio feature?! That's not a feature! Put me down!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-36811885630414833882011-01-29T23:43:00.001+00:002011-01-30T00:03:29.863+00:00The flipside of TF relations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVvpiqqcxKjdm006pC65TiRrDBQBV6xtJvgjdzJqqfizQS5Hs1TvJWTQxmoU9J0MOyGsM4arpr-bSWzhvM4GSvBS8WEOYovsIqmtBr2cmb_0bcN5U6doZxVUsXP_zB6GNwX5E3ZUBKVA/s1600/74362731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVvpiqqcxKjdm006pC65TiRrDBQBV6xtJvgjdzJqqfizQS5Hs1TvJWTQxmoU9J0MOyGsM4arpr-bSWzhvM4GSvBS8WEOYovsIqmtBr2cmb_0bcN5U6doZxVUsXP_zB6GNwX5E3ZUBKVA/s1600/74362731.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijumIZ5SuShItOAoda41NA7BbA5nbUZX3t9Qi-95xzJvFyzXy8LInaw3wQ35URm6Q8-1AK6q2uUcNIZMvnXZtnLz4mNC7o0nEk6D_2-vouovViwL5_gq3R4rhX_kYAgkvUW4yHe7egQ4/s1600/restaurant3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div>Marie: I think that couple over there are starting to think I've been stood up. <br />
Panties: Let them. I've had a wonderful anniversary, honey.<br />
Marie: Me too. Do you remember our first date here?<br />
Panties: How could I ever forget. You wore that little black dress...<br />
Marie: And you were that little black dress...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-65059547640715651272011-01-29T17:39:00.002+00:002011-01-29T23:44:19.703+00:00Learn your (fire)place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysp3wigmBuz3MganyL4sUZwU4R634ELtY_KxZPxRYWQbn6wZRcjBrj-HPw8oSeFwXpLrGFmcan0OphwKegWu4u7bB45oL6uehhls0JxyPPnSq6c5i1RYj9k-yMGgKHz2BcOAM2OtXzXQ/s1600/woman-eating-popcorn-by-fireplace-photo_asset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysp3wigmBuz3MganyL4sUZwU4R634ELtY_KxZPxRYWQbn6wZRcjBrj-HPw8oSeFwXpLrGFmcan0OphwKegWu4u7bB45oL6uehhls0JxyPPnSq6c5i1RYj9k-yMGgKHz2BcOAM2OtXzXQ/s320/woman-eating-popcorn-by-fireplace-photo_asset.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
It still makes me laugh after all these years. When we were married, you never had the time to keep me warm at night, and now that's <i>all</i> you do, your only purpose. Well, you and Darren. The man I made love to on the rug in front of you last night. Do you remember him? My fiance?<br />
<br />
Do you remember anything? Of ever being human? Its been so long, I wonder if your mind hasn't completely gone yet. That I might just be talking to a fireplace. I wonder if you regret never paying me enough attention.<br />
<br />
I hope so.<br />
<br />
<i>[As thought up by by Kathy3107]</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255324206633705844.post-47560393996273774612011-01-29T14:49:00.003+00:002011-01-30T16:29:11.744+00:00Mass Effect[<i>It's rather hard to find a picture of a male Quarian having his flu jabs, so sorry about no before-pictures. Its also rather hard to find a picture of an Asari with her clothes on, but I did. </i><i>For the sake of not taking up the blog with a big block of text, I'm sticking a jump break in.</i>]<br />
-------------------<br />
"Of course , I've had Quarians put themselves forward for this before. But I wanted a male, and a strong one. He leaned closer to peer through the visor that seperated me from the world. "You realise this may kill you."<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I nodded. "If this works, my people will no longer be limited by their crippled immune systems. We'll be able to set up colonies on new worlds, become strong again, maybe even reclaim our homeworld in time."<br />
<br />
"And you will return from your Pilgrimage a hero," he added mischeivously. "With three girls hanging off each arm." He lifted a syringe from its metal basin and his smile faded. "I just wanted to make sure you understand the risks."<br />
<br />
A chorus of breached seal warnings rang in my helmet as the needle punctured the suit around my shoulder and down into my skin. The Professor watched the course of the needle through my body on an ultrasound scan, adjusting it occasionally, targeting it towards the grainy white blob that was the Quarian aquivalent of a lymph node.<br />
<br />
"You see, the beauty of the solution is that it is inherent in the problem," he told me as he worked. "If I injected these cells into any other species, their immune system would rip them apart. But your body lacks the capacity to fight them off. In your body they will survive, and hopefully propogate themselves through your lymph nodes, eventually acting as a donor immune system."<br />
<br />
Even being a machinist, I knew enough biology to see a flaw in his method. "The donor immune cells... they'll see my own cells as foreign and attack them."<br />
<br />
His face fell; showing the full weight of his 100+ human years. "Sadly, that was the case with our first subject. However, with you, we have a very special donor. A half-Asari/half-Quarian. All the strength of an Asari immune system, none of the host rejection."<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Hopefully.</i><br />
<br />
The needle finally found its target, releasing its cache of hybrid stem cells into my lymph. The Professor removed the needle and my suit resealed itself, still bleeping indignantly.<br />
<br />
"What happens if the cells leave my lymphatic system?"<br />
<br />
He shrughed. "I'm sure that won't happen."<br />
<br />
------<br />
<br />
I was lucky; I didn't die. The next few weeks I spent in the Professor's lab, being gradually<br />
introduced to stronger and stronger strains of diseases. They monitored my biosigns closely, ready to pump me full of antibiotics on a moment's notice, for what good it would do. I didn't need it. My immune system was perfect.<br />
<br />
The night before I was to return home to the migrant fleet, the whole lab had a get together. My hands were shaking as they released the clasps of my helmet. I breathed fresh, unfiltered air for the first time. The Human and Salarian scientists were staring; I realised they'd probably never seen a Quarian face before.<br />
<br />
"I always knew he was a handsome devil!" the Professor crowed, waving a glass of Earth champagne around. He threw an arm around my shoulders, laughing. "You will come back, I think. After I have cured the genophage!"<br />
<br />
I boarded the ship the next morning - rehelmetted and resterilised. Things took a turn for the worse during the voyage home. I felt feverish - at first I thought it was the lingering excitement of the night before, the after-effects of champage. But the fever quickly became a powerful ache that filled my body. I adjusted my suit settings, turning the temperature right down to fight the fever, adding a mild sedative to my air supply to numb my body, and isolated myself from the rest of the crew, as Quarians are tought from birth to do in times of sickness. Alone in my quarters, I barely ate, and the suit hung loose on my body.<br />
<br />
It had been foolhardy of me to expose myself so soon. At the same time however, I felt a pride that I wasn't dead yet. If this was an infection, my body was fighting it. With each passing day I was getting better. By the time we docked, I was all but well. I made it to the airlock on shaky legs; finally turning down the sedative; it wouldn't do to meet my parents seemingly intoxicated.<br />
<br />
There they were! On the other side of the airlock, friends and family, smiling and waving. They had come to see me complete my Pilgrimage. The sterilisation process seemed to go on for ages. I couldn't take it. I wanted them to see my unmasked; see the fruits of my travels as I breathed the free air unhindered. I ripped off my helmet triumphantly.<br />
<br />
Even through the foot-thick glass of the airlock doors, I swear I could hear the sudden intake of breath. A few of my family staggered. Their body language conveyed suprise, fear, even anger. I'd expected it all; a Quarian almost never revealed themselves, even in sterile conditions.<br />
<br />
What I hadn't expected was the sensation of the cold air over my...head ridges?<br />
<br />
I pressed my hands to my face. My nose was slimmer. My lips felt almost swollen. The back of my once smooth head was folded into a series of thick skin ridges. The shock flushed the sedatives from my system, waking me up to my new body. It had five fingers, stuffed into the three fingers of the suit. I almost passed out at that point.<br />
<br />
<br />
I activated the suit's micropumps. As the air rushed out of the suit, it contracted, suckering to my flesh, tightening over my thighs and the contours of my... breasts. I had... <i>Don't faint, don't faint.</i><br />
<br />
The sickness in the ship had been no disease. It had been the last, dying gasp of my body as the Asari cells invaded it, destroyed it, and rebuilt it.<br />
<br />
<br />
The doors of the airlock rolled back. I took a hesitant step forward into the ship. My pilgrimage was over. My mother fainted.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzhN82lpbdAVQq0jylEzXbtQzTzEtUVMXMNW4u_vv9fj1i7JL4mGexQkD-hVW3rnIc3tpyWXeUftBmsezSGXKyZxSjmxmdIMbZelRnensYzVb1k6xzqrwd5vKODSyjJLtWzXxv5_RrBQ/s1600/mass-effect-20070917001950620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzhN82lpbdAVQq0jylEzXbtQzTzEtUVMXMNW4u_vv9fj1i7JL4mGexQkD-hVW3rnIc3tpyWXeUftBmsezSGXKyZxSjmxmdIMbZelRnensYzVb1k6xzqrwd5vKODSyjJLtWzXxv5_RrBQ/s320/mass-effect-20070917001950620.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0