tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55272984779215311032024-02-06T18:57:31.174-08:00The Fedora Hat: TG CapsWhatever turns you on.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-80954822391304472562013-02-12T12:48:00.004-08:002013-02-12T12:48:59.690-08:00Stress Relief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4c54WzG-KKUZj17p8WnHt3qw4Q8YipPRG6Jp69is1nbWSxXiWoogrfRiLuGndb6hYsnZHA4LtefqAgryRbXYRjajxx3klClCCmTYIyzHNLiN9xcK6uoXXKrMNOIG3pXh-7x6hlOMjSZc/s1600/InBetween.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4c54WzG-KKUZj17p8WnHt3qw4Q8YipPRG6Jp69is1nbWSxXiWoogrfRiLuGndb6hYsnZHA4LtefqAgryRbXYRjajxx3klClCCmTYIyzHNLiN9xcK6uoXXKrMNOIG3pXh-7x6hlOMjSZc/s640/InBetween.gif" width="360" /></a></div>
Again, one of those gifs that just asks for a caption. Original gif <a href="http://i.imgur.com/XWEdCPt.jpg">here</a> and source of gif <a href="http://www.redtube.com/347277">here</a>. I also take requests if anyone is interested? Mayhaps?Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-59468193127922223682013-01-26T13:26:00.002-08:002013-01-26T13:26:50.462-08:00A Quick Learner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcmHrIvXXLon5104pvOt8tdodvqucFo7Km-KwBmquvOC0a1uhwraxpEYnAX_nGbfH8PtkVxdc532q-oULDPewhCoNpAro0bQRJKj1EBwQH5A1NCA8hBG1o5LD0G_bnAh0RukIg3uk9Tk/s1600/QuickLearner.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAcmHrIvXXLon5104pvOt8tdodvqucFo7Km-KwBmquvOC0a1uhwraxpEYnAX_nGbfH8PtkVxdc532q-oULDPewhCoNpAro0bQRJKj1EBwQH5A1NCA8hBG1o5LD0G_bnAh0RukIg3uk9Tk/s400/QuickLearner.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
Another in my series of gif captions. Here's the <a href="http://www.gifwithsauce.com/gif/8726">source</a>. I knew I was gonna make a caption of it as soon as I saw the gif!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-57851846822335508872013-01-20T20:31:00.000-08:002013-01-20T20:31:34.128-08:00Enchanted Penis: Foursome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Y7pZQ5XYkoZmX7Tca3Mn4EAmRXgmINFljyeY3HN8Ch91JDI7OhCd3LYLFeEnAnspwP6jGoniHSUwDKD2C4X35kZcaUWxl0hRNuHb_jHFIk_gGKM82GvduVmuwWLnwk-_8LPQ_i2D3mM/s1600/MagicPenis.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Y7pZQ5XYkoZmX7Tca3Mn4EAmRXgmINFljyeY3HN8Ch91JDI7OhCd3LYLFeEnAnspwP6jGoniHSUwDKD2C4X35kZcaUWxl0hRNuHb_jHFIk_gGKM82GvduVmuwWLnwk-_8LPQ_i2D3mM/s320/MagicPenis.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
The next in my GIF captions. Inspired by A Nony Moose's '<a href="http://anonymoosestgcaptions.blogspot.com/search/label/enchanted%20penis">Enchanted Penis</a>' captions.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-63657649346981161242013-01-20T16:12:00.000-08:002013-01-20T16:22:59.451-08:00Bunk Beds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeiatIIv8k424RsNxJhOe3t_E52EzGhx-ul9sB1p9BxL4DWM5spzatZf2o0C-oHyNBYtV02uVGYVoyhyphenhyphenVzr7c1OozMez2tOMUkKvoa2gOe_J6kbzNF4cxF36-JYNnnHarA-u8Do68zyE/s1600/BunkBeds.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeiatIIv8k424RsNxJhOe3t_E52EzGhx-ul9sB1p9BxL4DWM5spzatZf2o0C-oHyNBYtV02uVGYVoyhyphenhyphenVzr7c1OozMez2tOMUkKvoa2gOe_J6kbzNF4cxF36-JYNnnHarA-u8Do68zyE/s400/BunkBeds.gif" width="185" /></a></div>
Decided to try my hand at an animated GIF caption. It's been a while, obviously, but I hope you like it!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-6588420028955206312012-07-02T00:33:00.000-07:002012-07-02T00:33:43.658-07:00Punk Succubus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://th07.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/183/9/5/punk_succubus_by_thefedorahat-d55rvdb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://th07.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/183/9/5/punk_succubus_by_thefedorahat-d55rvdb.jpg" width="174" /></a></div>
Heyo, new drawing here. Been a while, but I've been focusing on more drawings that I can show my parents. But hey, I knocked this one out pretty quickly and I'm very happy with the shading. As always, check more out at my <a href="http://thefedorahat.deviantart.com/#/d55rvdb">Deviant Art</a> account.<br />
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<br /></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-87779868859121691032012-03-19T00:56:00.000-07:002012-03-19T00:56:02.165-07:00Rubber Brush Art - Bent OverCan it be? 3 updates in 2 days? Why yes it can! And it's another piece I drew! (exclamation point optional)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/079/2/0/rubber_brush___bent_over_by_thefedorahat-d4tcd28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/079/2/0/rubber_brush___bent_over_by_thefedorahat-d4tcd28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This is inspired by the Rubber Brush gallery over at <a href="http://www.nagasden.com/rubberbrushroot.html">Naga's Den</a>. Hope you enjoy it. I'm slowly but surely building up hits at <a href="http://thefedorahat.deviantart.com/">DeviantArt</a>. Actually, slowly might not be the right word. Is over 1,000 in a day and a half slow?Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-18163513069695717372012-03-18T14:11:00.000-07:002012-03-18T14:11:25.453-07:00TG Art - St. Patrick's Day Bodysuit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/078/c/f/tg___st__patrick__s_day_bodysuit_by_thefedorahat-d4tafix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/078/c/f/tg___st__patrick__s_day_bodysuit_by_thefedorahat-d4tafix.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>Hey look at me! Another piece of TG art! I'm quite proud of myself. I might want to learn how to draw feet sometime in the near future. Hands would be nice too. I hate hands.<br />
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Anyways, it's amazing how quickly my <a href="http://thefedorahat.deviantart.com/">DeviantArt</a> account has grown in just one day. If only this was something I'd feel comfortable showing my grandparents. But for now, I'll religiously be counting my page views.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-27821255363420586222012-03-17T16:57:00.000-07:002012-03-17T16:57:45.304-07:00TG Art - The WallSo it's been a while. I recently acquired a stylus that I've been making use of. Thought you guys might want to see my first ever drawing of a gender transformation. Turned out pretty well I think.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/077/b/8/tg___the_wall_by_thefedorahat-d4t6lxl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/077/b/8/tg___the_wall_by_thefedorahat-d4t6lxl.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br />
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Although it only has the one now, follow me at <a href="http://thefedorahat.deviantart.com/">TheFedoraHat</a> on DeviantArt if you want to see more in the future.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-41734903613550636162011-02-15T00:00:00.000-08:002011-02-15T00:00:06.664-08:00Back to Square One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDLdMRz68mPUXqjSxo28xV8BJ8ZVgyD0g9QrHig-mRwIAUOtvYuLxDI4OeGkz1aoYyR4Am6DKU8YCdoFy5WNOW1FE4Oey8FZkRdKoYm8vTUhaVmxIPrP3yiVJS6cuGjn5JU9snRGh_XU/s1600/8a329ad5b22b25b0ac6c44db6ff2a959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="571" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDLdMRz68mPUXqjSxo28xV8BJ8ZVgyD0g9QrHig-mRwIAUOtvYuLxDI4OeGkz1aoYyR4Am6DKU8YCdoFy5WNOW1FE4Oey8FZkRdKoYm8vTUhaVmxIPrP3yiVJS6cuGjn5JU9snRGh_XU/s640/8a329ad5b22b25b0ac6c44db6ff2a959.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<a name='more'></a>"How much longer until the potion is ready?"<br />
<br />
"We're still waiting for these flowers to come into full bloom, which could take a few more days."<br />
<br />
"Days?! I don't know how much longer I can stand being in this form."<br />
<br />
"I know, Luis, I know. I don't want to be a woman anymore than you want to be a cat, but they're the forms we're stuck in for now."<br />
<br />
"Well if you hadn't been so greedy with the flowers to begin with, that centaur would never have caught us."<br />
<br />
"Don't you think I know that? Isn't it bad enough I can barely leave the house without you having to guilt-trip me everyday?<br />
<br />
"Fine, I'm sorry. But it's just that, the animal urges are starting to get pretty overwhelming. I was this close to eating a mouse I caught this morning."<br />
<br />
"I know what you mean. I'm so horny right now I might jump the next guy I see. But thankfully the flowers we stole to begin with are exactly what we need for the potion to turn us back."<br />
<br />
"So we're right back in square one?"<br />
<br />
"Looks like it."<br />
<br />
"Hrrm. So how long til the potion is ready?"Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-2535349326845627162011-02-12T14:00:00.000-08:002011-02-12T14:00:02.458-08:00Retro Bodysuit<center><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdkLat6pyFE4K3ne74C9xPqmcN1Bj85gTrXh4aslzgVkODcrFGd_i7KCVijKkKXUxMEizbqvC3OZNFQPEamri1CiXztIVeVWEhwl5MdDB5qv_9YJuMaTajjP9ThHl2htOxBDAqMFV93c/s1600/hero-fran-gerard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="876" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdkLat6pyFE4K3ne74C9xPqmcN1Bj85gTrXh4aslzgVkODcrFGd_i7KCVijKkKXUxMEizbqvC3OZNFQPEamri1CiXztIVeVWEhwl5MdDB5qv_9YJuMaTajjP9ThHl2htOxBDAqMFV93c/s640/hero-fran-gerard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></center><br />
<a name='more'></a>Jacob hadn't been too close with his grandma. It was nothing personal. She just happened to live on the other side of the country. He had seen her maybe five times in his life. So when she died, he felt bad that he didn't feel more grief. He made time out of college classes so that he could attend her funeral. She was family after all. After the service, he was asked to sit in on the reading of his grandmother's will. It turns out that she had considered him in her will, and had left him a locked wooden box, about the size of a record player, and an envelope. Jacob was surprised to have received anything at all, but accepted the gift with humility.<br />
<br />
With all the other obligations that weekend, Jacob had no opportunity to find out what was in the box. He didn't get a chance until he returned to his college campus apartment. He opened the envelope first. A key slid out, small and silver. He read over the accompanying note, scrawled in shaky, but legible cursive.<br />
<blockquote>Jacob,<br />
I'm sorry we never got a chance to truly connect. I've always asked your mother about you and your achievements. You've accomplished so much and I wish that I could have been there to see the man you turned out to be. But that is the hand that life dealt us, and we must make of it what we can. I leave you with a small token and a word of advice: Do what you want with your life and don't let anything get in your way. But make sure to do one thing: have fun. Life is nothing without fun and all the money in the world couldn't make up for the lack of it. I hope you take these words to heart.<br />
I love you,<br />
Grandma</blockquote>Jacob put the card down, wiping a tear from his eye. Now he really wished he had known his grandma better. He turned to the box and used the key to unlock it. With a click, the lid sprung open. Jacob peered inside. It appeared to be a cloth of some sort, and it was silky smooth to the touch. Pulling it out, it appeared to be a full bodysuit, complete with a hood for a head. Jacob was curious, and his roommates were out, so he locked his door so he could change to put it on. And besides, there was no way he could not put it on after such a heartfelt note from his grandma.<br />
<br />
Jacob stripped all his clothes and stuck his foot into the suit's leg. The inside of the suit was just as smooth as the outside. He was a little too big for the suit, but managed to squeeze both his legs into it. He pulled it up over his hips to his shoulders and fit both his arms inside. There was a plastic-looking zipper along the back, so he zipped it up. After pulling the hood over his head, he looked out through the eye holes and checked himself out in the mirror. He looked nothing short of ridiculous. It just looked like he was wearing a woman's skin, it was completely stretched out and sagging in so many different places. This was supposed to help him have fun? He didn't know what to expect from this gift, but maybe something a little...more.<br />
<br />
He looked inside the box one more time to see if he had missed anything. Sure enough, there were a pair of black-rimmed glasses stuffed in the corner. He had already gone this far, so he put them on. The suit pulled and twisted, pushed and prodded. It was like going to the bottom of a very deep pool, there was pressure everywhere. Starting at his face, Jacob couldn't feel the suit anymore. It was like the suit had fused with his face. Auburn hair sprouted out of his head. The pressure increased on his throat, then his shoulders and arms. There was no way his arms could be that skinny! He panicked and tried to grab the zipper on his back, but couldn't find it anywhere. The pressure moved down his body. His hands became so much smaller, he waist caved in. Jacob nearly screamed when the pressure reached his crotch, where it pushed and pushed until he couldn't feel his penis anymore. The pressure moved quickly down his legs, making his feet far too small. <br />
<br />
Finally the outside pressure let off. But with it came urge to press outwards. Focused on his chest and butt, Jacob couldn't resist the urge to let some pressure out. His ass filled the suit's and fused with it. He watched as the extra skin on his chest ballooned out, becoming two torpedo-like breasts.<br />
<br />
The changes were done. Jacob was breathing hard. That was definitely less than fun. He looked down on his body, now completely foreign. He was gorgeous, his breasts were like something out of a 70s Playboy. Jacob looked in the box again, desperate for some way to turn back. Sure enough, there was a note he was sure was not there before.<br />
<blockquote>Jacob,<br />
To return to your normal self, simply say aloud, "Life is nothing without a bit of fun." If you ever wish to return to this form, simply put on the glasses. The suit, and my love, will be with you forever.<br />
Grandma </blockquote>Jacob relaxed now that he knew the changes weren't permanent. He knew his grandma wanted him to have fun, but it's hard to think of your own grandparents as sexual beings. Jacob smiled. He never could have guessed that this is what she meant.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PLd6AmLFlehJZNm1eXt-iOyrnf_C9gUDQJwBs9rkfND7J4uwyE-ziNXK2l0RSTYDVonK9a2AZ1VcmPWRPgZ4ACoQf-iBAJNbc36vEsz-nYPdsjZ-7YClq_QVM7oUXj-A8jz1wXueveo/s1600/fran+gerard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0PLd6AmLFlehJZNm1eXt-iOyrnf_C9gUDQJwBs9rkfND7J4uwyE-ziNXK2l0RSTYDVonK9a2AZ1VcmPWRPgZ4ACoQf-iBAJNbc36vEsz-nYPdsjZ-7YClq_QVM7oUXj-A8jz1wXueveo/s400/fran+gerard.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-68723032313636285452010-10-11T18:30:00.000-07:002010-10-11T18:33:16.924-07:00Evolution of the Boob<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsw17LQyhI4_4-gado29-LN1Tq0itnMRh7Y-IJKAuB_o10XhgC9OGKZoRNyDWWX3CErSIgGrpdBHJ5BKwLIMUU2lcFA15TePAUDNacOiOsTnw1tgU1sJFtp9p3VxquxXMGXd1S27GDLI/s1600/USA,WilleyRey2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfsw17LQyhI4_4-gado29-LN1Tq0itnMRh7Y-IJKAuB_o10XhgC9OGKZoRNyDWWX3CErSIgGrpdBHJ5BKwLIMUU2lcFA15TePAUDNacOiOsTnw1tgU1sJFtp9p3VxquxXMGXd1S27GDLI/s400/USA,WilleyRey2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This one's been sitting in my queue for quite some time, but I felt now was a good a time as any to refine and publish it. I'm not going to pretend that I wrote most of what is in this post, but I couldn't help using these pics and text to make a TG themed story. Head on over <a href="http://www.playboy.com/girls/landingpages/evolution-of-the-boob/">here</a> to see my blatant plagiarism. Hit the jump to begin. Enjoy.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Hi, my name is Henry. You don't think you know me, but you do. I've been the center of your centerfold since Playboy was conceived in Little Hugh's head. Back in the late 40s, I was cursed. It's a long story, but the outcome is this: I was forever doomed to stay in a female body that would change to be attractive to as many people as possible. Safe to say, I've been around for a while. Long enough to know that America's taste in women varies by decade. I wouldn't call you fickle, just products of your generation. And your taste in boobs is no different. Follow me and my path of female bodies and the evolution of the boob.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZC7kJ-GLU-0096IJO7EGr-Bnp93oMuQZbgew3VM7IjodLgMTTX4KBP8AJPNAI2c8mEkTSSmOwyt6xxNHX4_8EQJbp-XXXaED0O9Ibcis1EQ6QjQcaDo6ogzjd488WhlfgkSA2UX7lC8/s1600/Evolution+50s+-+jean-jani.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZC7kJ-GLU-0096IJO7EGr-Bnp93oMuQZbgew3VM7IjodLgMTTX4KBP8AJPNAI2c8mEkTSSmOwyt6xxNHX4_8EQJbp-XXXaED0O9Ibcis1EQ6QjQcaDo6ogzjd488WhlfgkSA2UX7lC8/s400/Evolution+50s+-+jean-jani.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The 50's were my favorite decade. Natural, wholesome, fun—boobs were all of these during the '50s. The same attitude behind the boinking that gave rise to the Baby Boom generation was evident in the era's, and my, breasts: nothing contrived or fake, just pure, genuine joy expressed in a sexual fashion. Needless to say, the 50's really eased me into my new roll.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqoaS8SuIyEafXndFafPMQJF5_3Zu9S8z2L-4Hn_VC2B79V6-5q6N8bFnEMGE57oVQIWUDcrMqHuxhIRcUIAmZ_kKibv-dC6NpLBBAlSnjAaYNzvZsSvpcdXhSTvgM9zlWhBcLwhWIRs/s1600/Evolution+60s+-+pamela-anne-gordon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqoaS8SuIyEafXndFafPMQJF5_3Zu9S8z2L-4Hn_VC2B79V6-5q6N8bFnEMGE57oVQIWUDcrMqHuxhIRcUIAmZ_kKibv-dC6NpLBBAlSnjAaYNzvZsSvpcdXhSTvgM9zlWhBcLwhWIRs/s400/Evolution+60s+-+pamela-anne-gordon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The Cuban Missile Crisis, the first serious confrontation in the Cold War, occurred in October 1962. Right around that time, something odd started happening to the shape of my boobs. More and more, they began to look like missiles themselves. It was a palpable physiological response to the tension, almost as if to say "You're gonna point those things at us? Well, we're gonna point these things right back at you!" Now that's what we call staring down the enemy! But things would change heading into the next decade.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdqeanCthFKYKrMpJ_Y_Kddx47Ea8bNkMUszZSWFWc8MHp6rZa9M1lj0xMb8JiR_NdckWOSFznEFqvllppobQU-eX4hruWZPNYY7Wu91lP2UbHxvETjIhy5PShu-cX92MDYKpcjVxdw8/s1600/Evolution+70s+-+diana-house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdqeanCthFKYKrMpJ_Y_Kddx47Ea8bNkMUszZSWFWc8MHp6rZa9M1lj0xMb8JiR_NdckWOSFznEFqvllppobQU-eX4hruWZPNYY7Wu91lP2UbHxvETjIhy5PShu-cX92MDYKpcjVxdw8/s400/Evolution+70s+-+diana-house.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Hippie culture, bra burning, the second wave of the feminist movement—these phenomena that originated in the '60s all contributed to a noticeable falling of my breasts in the '70s. Their perky, straight-ahead trajectories disappeared, just as idealistic "peace and love" attitudes did when some serious reality set in. No need to get into specifics, as doing so would unnecessarily cast a dark cloud over this wondrous discussion. All that matters is the sheer awesomeness of the teardrop boobs of this era.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM-_5DVWsXA_-JNA4TYHvorvsNPBGSurwL6rvuL1BmhIgijzaMLywnmpV4gXWkjQxqBfctmoGSEmm1S3DnAi7Lva5CYp6EyG_EMpS-4i7SfHg1_YS39a0F82I-UlhIA51d2PnT0CPYI0/s1600/Evolution+80s+-+christine-richters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiM-_5DVWsXA_-JNA4TYHvorvsNPBGSurwL6rvuL1BmhIgijzaMLywnmpV4gXWkjQxqBfctmoGSEmm1S3DnAi7Lva5CYp6EyG_EMpS-4i7SfHg1_YS39a0F82I-UlhIA51d2PnT0CPYI0/s400/Evolution+80s+-+christine-richters.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>From junk bonds to "read my lips: no new taxes," the '80s was a decade characterized by falsehoods. B.S. was all over MTV as well, as more and more rock stars wore wigs on their heads and stuffed cucumbers and whatnot down their pants. Not surprisingly, breast implants became more common during this time period. Which isn't to say implants are inherently evil; quite the contrary, if they're done right. I'd take 'em over someone conning people out of their life savings or lying straight to the faces of millions any day.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkO0z7hVxFF4rlgJv1h_ev6KhGZsyCqbRgEuJoltvmfWVhAl9h-3M1Ltt8ZGmKbMz4cSbu8JMMewURrN038m-pQE6eDwm1nb0UuuLQn0kVGGzwSaZDd4qSsqokSp5j9_f9ZZ1_CQIXdw/s1600/Evolution+90s+-+daphnee-lynn-duplaix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkO0z7hVxFF4rlgJv1h_ev6KhGZsyCqbRgEuJoltvmfWVhAl9h-3M1Ltt8ZGmKbMz4cSbu8JMMewURrN038m-pQE6eDwm1nb0UuuLQn0kVGGzwSaZDd4qSsqokSp5j9_f9ZZ1_CQIXdw/s400/Evolution+90s+-+daphnee-lynn-duplaix.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Nirvana's <i>Nevermind</i> and the Red Hot Chili Peppers' <i>Blood Sugar Sex Magik</i> were released on the same day in 1991. That 1-2 punch caused a seismic shift not only in the music industry but in pop culture as a whole. At the same time, smaller, more athletic breasts (an "alternative" to '80s racks, if you will) came back into vogue. As the decade progressed we saw the 1996 introduction of the WNBA and Brandi Chastain showing off her sports bra during the 1999 Women's World Cup, which helped push heavy, pendulous breasts into the background.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojEZpkXu0Yvke3iZKzIzY3rK195L_Af-nrbWUVtCuSznBCw73hQ6uJmr_ra5UH6GCpXNVrCgWauGJzuFRQ_rBqy-AwOkliEkplYWrm4edQsrCEvmbhsU46TR7O_7zwYO9nP4sHV8eWlg/s1600/Evolution+00s+-+athena-lundberg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiojEZpkXu0Yvke3iZKzIzY3rK195L_Af-nrbWUVtCuSznBCw73hQ6uJmr_ra5UH6GCpXNVrCgWauGJzuFRQ_rBqy-AwOkliEkplYWrm4edQsrCEvmbhsU46TR7O_7zwYO9nP4sHV8eWlg/s400/Evolution+00s+-+athena-lundberg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Gas prices down, gas prices up. Stock markets soaring, stock markets crashing. MySpace cool, MySpace passé. The "Aughts" were all over the place in a variety of ways, and the decade's breasts were no exception. Big, little, real, enhanced—there's no way to pinpoint a specific trend with regard to this era's boobs. Not in all my years have I experienced so many different types of bodies in so little a time. I blame the internet. Many historians have labeled the '00s as a lost decade. I'd like to remember it as a time when society found something again—an appreciation for all boobs great and small. And we think to ourselves, what a wonderful world!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-90802007302076253442010-10-11T17:55:00.000-07:002010-10-11T17:55:01.956-07:00What the...what?What's this? I haven't updated since friggin' January and I've got 37 Blogger and 100 Google Reader followers? How does that happen? I actually run a movie news/reviews blog that <i>never</i> gets that kind of attention. And that one I'm able to share with people I see in real life. Oy, you guys are amazing. <br />
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But let me just say, I don't know why you all started following me even with no updates, but thanks for doing it. You guys have inspired me, which of course means I have to start updating again. So expect to see some new stories sometime in the near future. Maybe even today!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-29405431586993694482010-01-20T16:27:00.000-08:002010-01-20T16:42:21.267-08:00Backwards<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7Ahsp4xlzmOBDemDjv-xuyOx766J1E9m_BIuEJlxJQbBHL1149vRGI6xOH7pZWpnFPC3TaTQiz8zhZaSnpgtXCr1KqD85XltdRAo51ZHxAY9mlV1FE6xGjyMRXZWxs3JUs8-to0c0zU/s1600-h/23-emo-confused-girl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7Ahsp4xlzmOBDemDjv-xuyOx766J1E9m_BIuEJlxJQbBHL1149vRGI6xOH7pZWpnFPC3TaTQiz8zhZaSnpgtXCr1KqD85XltdRAo51ZHxAY9mlV1FE6xGjyMRXZWxs3JUs8-to0c0zU/s400/23-emo-confused-girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428986829972114978" border="0" /></a>Charlotte just felt off today. Backwards. There was no other way to explain it. Everything was going wrong. She kept grabbing things with her left hand, even though she was right handed. She even had trouble writing with her right hand. Every time she went to turn to the right, she'd turn left and anytime she wanted to sit down, she'd lean over.<br /><br />She had started feeling like this right after she had gotten dressed that morning in a hurry since she was late for school. She couldn't explain it and it didn't make any sense. Her friends asked if everything was okay, probably because she appeared drunk. And who could blame them, she felt drunk, except without the intoxication. Once school was over, she headed home, denying an invitation to hang out with her friends. She just wanted to get home and change and relax.<br /><br />Charlotte got home with some difficulty, always confusing her directions. She got in her room and went to go change. Removing her skirt and blouse, she was starting to feel a little better, but still off.<br /><br />Once all her clothes were removed, Charlotte reached up to the base of her neck and unlocked the tab there. She pulled on the invisible zipper down to her butt and then pulled at the back of her head. The skin and hair over her scalp peeled off to reveal a boy's head, only facing the opposite direction.<br /><br />The boy's face looked down at the girl's ass on the front of his body and over his shoulder at the breasts on his back and laughed, "<span style="font-style: italic;">that's</span> why I felt off today!"Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-67656532874019761252009-11-29T12:13:00.000-08:002009-11-29T12:44:27.879-08:00Expanding Horizon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyKJLaB341XxsPoBAGibugAq1WKhiXbrOErONNgUZiDnQa8shIS4RybrS6Ppmqe7idI-sHUYIJgVrjX3nnQe8laviAii7JuIQf_AGeAqb_7Q1JJqiuyxYuRtkMVDqy_NUeEuVtXOUUl8/s1600/porn.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoyKJLaB341XxsPoBAGibugAq1WKhiXbrOErONNgUZiDnQa8shIS4RybrS6Ppmqe7idI-sHUYIJgVrjX3nnQe8laviAii7JuIQf_AGeAqb_7Q1JJqiuyxYuRtkMVDqy_NUeEuVtXOUUl8/s400/porn.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409621481934967410" border="0" /></a>It was a long day for Cedric, and now he just wanted to relax. And what better way to let off some steam than to get his rocks off at his laptop? No one else was home tonight, which was good because he had had problems in the past with roommates busting in at inopportune times.<br /><br />As Cedric sat down, he thought it might be a good time to expand his sexual horizons. Normally he kept to a very small genre of porn, only white women with bleach blonde hair. So in his search for something new (which isn't very hard, considering the plethora of property out there), he came across something new and strange website that he had never seen before.<br /><br />It had a dark and mysterious tone about it, but Cedric wasn't dissuaded. He browsed through some of the pictures, liking what he was seeing. Aside from the pictures, there was only one video featured. He did not hesitate.<br /><br />She popped up immediately. A gorgeous girl with bleached blonde hair. <span style="font-style: italic;">Perfect</span>, thought Cedric, no longer caring about expanding his horizons. She was sitting in a chair in an otherwise empty room, the camera framing her entire body. She was naked, and her large breasts lifted from her chest with each breath. She didn't do anything other than stare into the camera, and soon Cedric felt like she was looking directly at him. He locked eyes with his screen and her eyes.<br /><br />Her left hand lifted up and rubbed her opposite shoulder, Cedric found himself doing the same. He ran his hand all the way up and down his arm just as she did. If he could break his gaze with the screen, he would see that his own arm was becoming more tan and slender. His right arm and hand losing muscle mass, becoming more dainty. The woman and he did the same thing for his other arm.<br /><br />Cedric didn't remember taking off all of his clothes.<br /><br />The mysterious woman brought both of her arms up to her face and began rubbing, running her hands through her beautiful hair. Cedric was fully turned on, and was too involved in the video to notice the hair dropping in front of his face. She ran her hands over her throat and Cedric's breathing became slightly higher. She ran her hands over her smooth legs, and as Cedric did the same, he loved the feeling of those legs. His ass became rounder and shapely under his lovely new hands.<br /><br />Cedric thought it strange that he was copying her movements, but found he couldn't stop. But it was only when he was copying her movements over his chest and felt breasts growing underneath that he became worried. His breasts were huge (he shouldn't even have breasts) and his whole body felt off, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blonde on the screen.<br /><br />The woman's hand moved down to her vagina, and Cedric could feel his penis shrivel underneath his hand. He reached inside himself then, and the tension he had been feeling built and built while she fingered herself. Cedric couldn't believe how good it felt, and massaged her breast at the same beat as the woman. The woman's eyes began to waver with distracted ecstasy, and Cedric could feel the spell breaking. But just when she felt she could take back control, she exploded into orgasm. The spell broke, and she thrashed around in her chair, continuing to finger herself in the dying throes of passion. <br /><br />She collapsed onto her keyboard, not noticing that the website had changed back to her traditional porn page. And she hadn't changed back. Cedric was still panting from the best orgasm she had ever had, when she realized the huge boobs she was laying on. Now she had the control and sense of mind to panic.<br /><br />But just then, she heard her roommate come through the door. This would definitely be one of those inopportune times, and she was still so horny...Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-39417925001262962032009-10-22T16:12:00.000-07:002009-11-02T02:00:02.133-08:00Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers: The Power Coins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvd0zZTpV8wlgCh-TU6aLL22v8xOrlHfQwH_HPYkcjg5rD2hg2pTTiiEvLnhEYpgDFDoznUAbkRaVv3a5_vBgGxDkrHW3NybYVFtBqsOwJurOpYccnur-AgBhO2hSh9xM0vX5xQjWbns/s1600-h/green+%26+pink+ranger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvd0zZTpV8wlgCh-TU6aLL22v8xOrlHfQwH_HPYkcjg5rD2hg2pTTiiEvLnhEYpgDFDoznUAbkRaVv3a5_vBgGxDkrHW3NybYVFtBqsOwJurOpYccnur-AgBhO2hSh9xM0vX5xQjWbns/s400/green+%26+pink+ranger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395570493212445890" border="0" /></a> It's been a quiet day in Angel Grove, California (for once). But with a quiet day comes studying. Even if the six Rangers are charged with protecting Earth from Rita, they still have tests to pass. Today, Tommy and Kimberly are in their own study group, but they planned to meet the rest of their friends for smoothies afterward. But their studying was taking a lot longer than usual. For you see, the two had been secretly dating for over a month now, and their study/make-out sessions were getting a little more intense with each visit.<br /><br />"Tommy," Kimberly breathed during a momentary break. "We should be studying."<br /><br />"Of course we should," said Tommy, but he didn't stop kissing her neck. Kimberly pulled Tommy's head away from hers and looked him in the eye. They both stopped and stared at each other before again resuming kissing each other, but with increased intensity. Just when Tommy was starting to reach under her shirt, his comm rang out, making them both jump. It was Alpha.<br /><br />"Time to go back to work," sighed Tommy. They each picked up their morphers and beamed away in sparks of green and pink.<br /><br />____________________________<br /><br />They had their mission. Rita's next monster was terrorizing the school. They knew what they had to do. It was morphin' time.<br /><br />"It's morphin' time!" yelled Tommy.<br /><br />"Triceratops!" "Pterodactyl!" "Mastadon!" "Saber-tooth Tiger!" "Tyrannosaurus!" "Dragonzord!"<br /><br />But when the team arrived on the scene, something was horribly wrong. You know, besides Rita's newest monster.<br /><br />"What?!" yelled the Green Ranger. He looked down at his uniform, but jolted at a yell to his left.<br /><br />"How?!" yelled the Pink Ranger. She was also looking down, and looked at the Green Ranger quickly. She ran over to him and whispered. "How did this happen?"<br /><br />"I don't know. This is so strange." The rest of the team was distracted with fighting the Puddies, and had yet to notice the two straglers. Both were too shocked to move, but when they saw their friends in danger, they nodded to each other and went to fight. They would figure out what happened later.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW8JPiYJwmimKEF-XcagODf78wz6GF2XmxGgDEsMGxsx3uQMBz_nAvEOjP4a23GqlGu2sAtcwdPE1OnisFC0znS5qCTFz2XkKpZOFm5KOHpR-zt2n_zS0kNWyl6K_DvlvL6sPhRPv83w/s1600-h/green+pink+ranger+swtich.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGW8JPiYJwmimKEF-XcagODf78wz6GF2XmxGgDEsMGxsx3uQMBz_nAvEOjP4a23GqlGu2sAtcwdPE1OnisFC0znS5qCTFz2XkKpZOFm5KOHpR-zt2n_zS0kNWyl6K_DvlvL6sPhRPv83w/s400/green+pink+ranger+swtich.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395570488881203346" border="0" /></a>Tommy felt off, but no less powerful. He still knew how to fight. Kimberly didn't quite know how to handle this. But she didn't lose her instincts. Soon, the Puddies were defeated.<br /><br />Without warning, a hideous monster appeared in front of them. It cackled menacingly, and roared in defiance when Rita's magic wand made her monster grow.<br /><br />They needed Dinozord power now.<br /><br />"We need Dinozord power now!" shouted Jason.<br /><br />From the depths of the earth emerged the five Zords that would combine to create the Megazord. Tommy watched in fascination and horror. He knew how to get in his machine, but didn't know how to use his new power coin to merge the Zords together. Kimberly had a completely different problem. How would she call the Dragonzord? She couldn't play the flute-dagger.<br /><br />At almost the same time, both their suits took over. At Jason's behest, Tommy's new suit made him pull out his power coin, engage it, and begin the initiation sequence for the Megazord. Kimberly pulled out her dagger and began to play, not knowing where the notes were coming from. She jumped in her Zord and knew just what to do to control the machine.<br /><br />As always, Rita's monster never stood a chance.<br /><br />__________________________<br /><br />But when they returned to the Command Center and un-Morphin' Time'd, Tommy and Kimberly looked at each other in horror to find that they still had a huge problem, but now they didn't have suits to hide it.<br /><br />"Well done, Rangers," Zordon boomed from his pillar. "But beware, Rita will strike again. You must continue to be strong, as you have."<br /><br />"Thank you, Zordon," stated Jason proudly. "We'll be ready for her."<br /><br />Alpha 5 chirped in approval and the others nodded in agreement, Kimberly and Tommy with markedly less enthusiasm.<br /><br />Back at Kimberly's home, they finally had the privacy necessary to confront their problem.<br /><br />"Why haven't we changed back?" Tommy nearly screamed from his very feminine body and pink clothes. They had been holding back a torrent of emotion and confusion for several hours<br /><br />"Shh!" Kimberly was worried about someone finding out she was in her boyfriend's body. Her green clothes weren't helping her calm. "I don't know. There's no reason why this happened."<br /><br />Tommy started taking deep breaths to calm himself, sat down and started thinking things through. "It started when we morphed. This is gonna sound weird. Did we do it right?"<br /><br />"We do it the way we always did. Unless..." Kimberly pulled out her Power Coin. She nearly cried at what she saw. "I have your coin."<br /><br />"What?" Tommy almost fell off the bed. He pulled out his coin. "Oh man. Here! Switch it back!"<br /><br />They hastily changed coins. There was just one thing they had to do to confirm.<br /><br />"It's morphin' time!" they both yelled together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD26OcDStl8OpiJjcLWpJKkl1LfPMFJ6e9UCjAlLW2Nu29-R9Dyy8M2jQbfiopNXLPyRmtm3dPmCgzNd6UlybVQPwoQpZU78fjpFA57ghwhklTOJXUbzB7bTbXGUcXxxPDm60Jjrinuio/s1600-h/pink+%26+green+ranger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD26OcDStl8OpiJjcLWpJKkl1LfPMFJ6e9UCjAlLW2Nu29-R9Dyy8M2jQbfiopNXLPyRmtm3dPmCgzNd6UlybVQPwoQpZU78fjpFA57ghwhklTOJXUbzB7bTbXGUcXxxPDm60Jjrinuio/s400/pink+%26+green+ranger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395570494545893410" border="0" /></a>Since that fateful day, Tommy and Kimberly's relationship only grew stronger. And after some time of doing everything right, they began to warm up to the idea of switching Power Coins again. After all, who would believe they could switch bodies? And if they had to fight as each other, the suits would help them out. Only years later, after they had passed their powers onto a new generation, did they tell the other Rangers what they had been doing.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-75911599277233291772009-09-17T12:05:00.001-07:002009-09-17T12:33:16.453-07:00Back Through the Surf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGMb-UG5LKOfsTUGHGQxYiK5OSQkzDILEnTePxGgdo8qGkVQHCYxei30q1G1lq5sNW6mvW_vgZivKuQz51EYVX8Bx16iMR-oqPaAfxT2fn5lrG7zD762RfX_IWrXj_OROJHtj11raDwo/s1600-h/babes-on-bicycles-3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOGMb-UG5LKOfsTUGHGQxYiK5OSQkzDILEnTePxGgdo8qGkVQHCYxei30q1G1lq5sNW6mvW_vgZivKuQz51EYVX8Bx16iMR-oqPaAfxT2fn5lrG7zD762RfX_IWrXj_OROJHtj11raDwo/s400/babes-on-bicycles-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382521696489398626" border="0" /></a><br />Michel refused to lose this year's race. For the past 12 months, he has done nothing but train for the day when he would finally take the gold and beat his arch-rival Jean-Pierre. They had each been rivals for years, ever since their first race together back in the big 1930 race together when they had come in neck to neck. Jean-Pierre had come in first by less than a nose.<br /><br />They had raced together ever since, not as friendly competitors, but as fierce rivals. Michel would always lose, but only just. Today, that would end.<br /><br />This fateful race would be held on the beach road, a treacherous asphalt track that wound between jagged cliff and raging ocean. Many a biker had nearly met their end on this road. Michel walked his bicycle up to the starting line, preferring to save his legs for the race. Jean-Pierre walked up along side him, throwing a Michel a look of removed disdain. Confidence oozed from his pores. Michel hoped that would be his downfall.<br /><br />The race began with a gunshot. The hundreds of bicyclists rode off at a relaxed pace, slowly building speed, passing each other in a graceful dance of precarious combat. Michel was already in the lead, he refused to take the first leg easy, pulling himself ahead of all the other racers quickly and deliberately. He knew this strategy was dangerous, as his legs could easily wear out before the big finish. But he didn't care, all he could see in his mind's eye was the look of defeat on Jean-Pierre's face. He pumped the pedals harder.<br /><br />Passing the half-way point, Michel was far ahead of any competition. But that was where he made his mistake. Michel began a downhill slope, a point that any sensible biker would rest, but he continued to push himself and his bike beyond reasonable speeds.<br /><br />He couldn't break in time for the next turn. With all his might, he tried to break, pressing his soles into the pavement. But to no avail, he flew over the edge, into the grass, flying recklessly past trees and rocks, until he landed face-first in waist high ocean.<br /><br />Technically, Michel was lucky. This was the only part of the shore that had shallow waters and few rocks. As Michel pulled himself out of the salty water, he gasped for breath and took a quick assessment of his body. No broken bones, very lucky. But something felt off. He looked down and saw two breasts protruding underneath his white shirt. His legs were smooth and womanly, and long dark hair was hanging in his face.<br /><br />Just as he was about to panic, he heard the rattling of the next bicyclists tearing their way down the hill he had just failed to overcome. He saw the smug smile of Jean-Pierre as he flew around the bend and out of sight.<br /><br />Determination rose up in him. Even now, he refused to lose again. He picked up his bike, remarkably unscathed, from beneath the ocean water and jogged with it, his powerful yet womanly legs pumping through the surf, onto the sand, and back up the trail to the road.<br /><br />No, he would not lose again.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-32123681342081934682009-07-11T02:44:00.001-07:002009-07-11T02:59:10.853-07:00Picture Yourself...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLalm-cp_qt72INZ1f-zo2f0PX5riFBwQN2QA2l4N99k5BLGoDZufDwE33S91Twx4K9c5h4Y5lSNhS0KnH34zBpRk-rr2y_Z_PvZImmIYh0rFcPbLc_ejyw17zlcA-rh3TcC6YtUP8GY/s1600-h/pictures+of+ourselves.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLalm-cp_qt72INZ1f-zo2f0PX5riFBwQN2QA2l4N99k5BLGoDZufDwE33S91Twx4K9c5h4Y5lSNhS0KnH34zBpRk-rr2y_Z_PvZImmIYh0rFcPbLc_ejyw17zlcA-rh3TcC6YtUP8GY/s400/pictures+of+ourselves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357139167516012050" border="0" /></a>It's been a while, but seeing as how I've been linked to by both Rebecca Molay <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> TG Comics, I figure I better get my rear in gear. Just a simple one for now, I'm trying to see if I can make one of my favorite novels, The Music of Chance, into a good short story. I think it'll work out, but it needs some fine tuning.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-39376955361358804302009-06-03T01:16:00.000-07:002009-06-03T18:16:30.375-07:00TG Caps Blog Dream<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX2Da4oUiZSE8KFwVlvXcJgw1Ue6y70_zvrD_RIGmDaqNeohHMiIG-GcMhpqqktrN5Ul6asgHZ7k4nWJTgm7JFtb6_SvOScAMXdLRmzxBEfo-QsS7qYzjHgqRt1fV0IVQbPCbJiW118M/s1600-h/capBlog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 382px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX2Da4oUiZSE8KFwVlvXcJgw1Ue6y70_zvrD_RIGmDaqNeohHMiIG-GcMhpqqktrN5Ul6asgHZ7k4nWJTgm7JFtb6_SvOScAMXdLRmzxBEfo-QsS7qYzjHgqRt1fV0IVQbPCbJiW118M/s400/capBlog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343270232355426066" border="0" /></a>As if I needed another reason to write this blog...Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-64436502892183228602009-05-31T23:13:00.000-07:002009-06-03T00:01:43.477-07:00Cap: New BOoB Design<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElNHVC7H54TvQnNUuYcKJ1RDAtWPJ6xy_w1fq9LtyDuIj65mqSQI2Q9rxCG42QDvGIvHNulMlxOlqRsSYM50SErGjvjNv0on2X-K6NV55nNry5hqlcuLjTA3OnJVf3tJeBDURhpVE8Pw/s1600-h/capBOoB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhElNHVC7H54TvQnNUuYcKJ1RDAtWPJ6xy_w1fq9LtyDuIj65mqSQI2Q9rxCG42QDvGIvHNulMlxOlqRsSYM50SErGjvjNv0on2X-K6NV55nNry5hqlcuLjTA3OnJVf3tJeBDURhpVE8Pw/s400/capBOoB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342244999772046738" border="0" /></a>Look at me! I'm writing actual caps! I've had this pun running through my head for a couple of weeks now, but no thoughts as to how to use it. I'm pretty satisfied with the result.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-59459254364388487622009-05-20T01:38:00.001-07:002009-05-25T23:26:15.715-07:00Cap: Soap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuYU_vLpXZLbnZNC4njg3ftxBnUlyx9md4prE_v-wEUVadMuxUctf3A9dShejMIwYnFtmdMLMvUnCrF23ctXIM2twTlLrFSY4-5UACjXZip9v7K6FNOwnGvXygcqyW0b0JS7e0IYtQXI/s1600-h/bathcap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuYU_vLpXZLbnZNC4njg3ftxBnUlyx9md4prE_v-wEUVadMuxUctf3A9dShejMIwYnFtmdMLMvUnCrF23ctXIM2twTlLrFSY4-5UACjXZip9v7K6FNOwnGvXygcqyW0b0JS7e0IYtQXI/s400/bathcap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340014899508960530" border="0" /></a>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-67488656648336202382009-05-06T00:00:00.000-07:002009-05-06T01:05:51.084-07:00Welcome to Fight Club<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienBOdugwOKKLyMr_REptKeoGh-tO6AiYF0WuYtJLgkTyuJK08yLI7T_h2jEBRxJm8Me79-uA2lKRdgUozeCDhok7X7DeVx27xOxUrne5SluNKXipYCTT9jK9OsMXvuwZK83r_Cu4ktOQ/s1600-h/fightclub1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEienBOdugwOKKLyMr_REptKeoGh-tO6AiYF0WuYtJLgkTyuJK08yLI7T_h2jEBRxJm8Me79-uA2lKRdgUozeCDhok7X7DeVx27xOxUrne5SluNKXipYCTT9jK9OsMXvuwZK83r_Cu4ktOQ/s400/fightclub1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332590672688144354" border="0" /></a> "Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you <span style="font-style: italic;">do not talk about Fight Club!</span>" She stood center stage, spotlights beaming from above, tattoos and skin glistening in the harsh light of the bar basement. "Third rule of Fight Club: if someone yells "stop!", goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two women to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time, girls." Everyone laughed, a harsh discord of nervous giggles and confident huffs.<br /><br />She continued. "Sixth rule: the fights are bare knuckle. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to." She stopped and glared at everyone, her unblinking stare piercing each heart for what seemed like an eternity, though she did not tarry on any one person for more than a split second.<br /><br />"And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDl47ZUd6Na4jOomYJx7XJneE4GzkCMuQ7jc6OTVwkvBiz5efcYzuCYdlaheSUvDwTGb_tnbC7reqFPEMaFkn6SrmLJYfE_H8eC_TPTVBG1pvkqleR_BmRntqECIiJfkoNndyl5HyESGQ/s1600-h/fightclub3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDl47ZUd6Na4jOomYJx7XJneE4GzkCMuQ7jc6OTVwkvBiz5efcYzuCYdlaheSUvDwTGb_tnbC7reqFPEMaFkn6SrmLJYfE_H8eC_TPTVBG1pvkqleR_BmRntqECIiJfkoNndyl5HyESGQ/s400/fightclub3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332590674811700690" border="0" /></a>Everyone cheered, a surprisingly brutish sound for how many women were present. Tyler Durden stood off to the side and let us get ready for the tonight's fights.<br /><br />I had no idea what to expect when I was "invited" to this club. A friend of mine from work had gone once and said it had changed his life. But the first and second rules were that you couldn't talk about it, so I would just have to see for myself.<br /><br />I was one of the first to arrive, only my buddy Dave and three others were arriving with me. It was a crappy little bar in the middle of a vast parking lot. Middle of nowhere in downtown Los Angeles.<br /><br />We walked down to the basement together, but it was there that things took a turn for the unexpected.<br /><br />A wave of naseaua hit me, but left as soon as it came. I felt off. But when I looked around, I noticed that I was suddenly surrounded by brutal and beautiful looking women. They were tattooed and bruised, each with a look of harsh intensity.<br /><br />Others were arriving, each becoming a different woman. Most were tattooed, some had sports tape wrapped around their large breasts for protection. All looked ready to kick ass.<br /><br />It was after I had seen so many other transformations that I finally thought to look at my own.<br /><br />"This is the woman inside you," said a woman who stood where Dave once was. "This is who you will fight with."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGox_aWLu9LuxVJdZQRSwaupgDdLp7MVMqyyxt-iuEC68W-WExD0P5f9aM-XP3GHmyIm7UObBzmk8oADR7oUUfj6UghYZ6CoGFoM4T16JdxbkOM_s82JcQ8LO6mWa2BGfwwLwgHy9avw/s1600-h/fightclub7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGox_aWLu9LuxVJdZQRSwaupgDdLp7MVMqyyxt-iuEC68W-WExD0P5f9aM-XP3GHmyIm7UObBzmk8oADR7oUUfj6UghYZ6CoGFoM4T16JdxbkOM_s82JcQ8LO6mWa2BGfwwLwgHy9avw/s400/fightclub7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332592578093014386" border="0" /></a>I looked into the warped and jagged mirror near the stairs and saw the woman inside me. I was beautiful. My hair was just a little bit longer, with a strike of purple running through it. My face was smaller, a stud in my lower lip and lots of mascara around my eyes. I had tattoos along the left side of my body, Japanese symbols on my shoulder and a little marching boy under my arm. My tits were smallish and my waist had contracted considerably. Both of my nipples were pierced as well as my navel. My ears had large black hoops where the piercing should be. All I was wearing now were panties and torn jeans.<br /><br />"Fight?" I asked. I my first word in this new body.<br /><br />"You'll see."<br /><br />It was then that Tyler Durden first came down the stairs. She was a menacing woman, tattoos running up and down her arms and stomach. Her breasts were bigger than most of ours and in her eyes we saw the fiery passion that I was just beginning to feel. She immediately stood in the center of the room.<br /><br />"Welcome to Fight Club..." she began.<br /><br />It was my first night. I had to fight.<br /><br />The woman who used to be Dave, now a tall brunette with smoldering brown eyes, came forward, took my wrist, and led me to the middle of the ring. I would be tonight's first fight.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jv8OR1k0mfzgj3_xQCCRxEUMl3y_MB6MD3foe6aWhCVeozgnozjnfXmz9JYJztGzjccVdZRTBCA45eJW-wjvQ5Bi3Z-r_AZGYlaxTQ5st7EH2-wJ07LVD-57gUsn4KCyYbcKstXLLkg/s1600-h/fightclub2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jv8OR1k0mfzgj3_xQCCRxEUMl3y_MB6MD3foe6aWhCVeozgnozjnfXmz9JYJztGzjccVdZRTBCA45eJW-wjvQ5Bi3Z-r_AZGYlaxTQ5st7EH2-wJ07LVD-57gUsn4KCyYbcKstXLLkg/s400/fightclub2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332590675875991522" border="0" /></a>I fought hard. Something within me found the fury to match each of Dave's blows. I let go, I let the raging woman who I had become take me over. The others screamed and roared with each punch. They didn't root for either one of us, only for the next solid punch.<br /><br />I pushed away and turned to face Dave. My boobs were sore and scratched, my knuckles bleeding and bruised. Blood dripped down the side of my face. Panting and smiling, I stared into the eyes of my opponent, seeing the matching exhausted glee in his eyes as well. She was just as bruised as I was. Each of us were on our last legs. We had knocked each other down over and over. I had smashed his head into the cement and he had nearly broken one of my arms. The next blow would determine this fight.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9Hrr1gU1BUqAd2E9Im6WEQ02AiB8vuw2ASxsI-kC00MFafwG2f9FSwHXUq8bOBTSswWXDNtha6ZbKRLrrj8TlRGjY-uSwU4PfEmIOEN9zpdGgZmWpyoJgsAbKVL9xfPgGBTuys8bgig/s1600-h/fightclub5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9Hrr1gU1BUqAd2E9Im6WEQ02AiB8vuw2ASxsI-kC00MFafwG2f9FSwHXUq8bOBTSswWXDNtha6ZbKRLrrj8TlRGjY-uSwU4PfEmIOEN9zpdGgZmWpyoJgsAbKVL9xfPgGBTuys8bgig/s400/fightclub5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332592568490060386" border="0" /></a>She punched hard. I hit the concrete floor with a sickening crack. I didn't get back up. Not this time. But I was smiling. I was in excrutiating pain, but I had never felt more alive than in this moment. An exhausted female Dave and other women picked me up. Dave hugged me and I hugged back with what little strength I had left. I laughed with him, rejoicing in the ecstasy of my first fight. Someone dragged me to a wall and let me sit.<br /><br />Dave leaned in before going to watch the next fight, "Hooked?"<br /><br />I smiled, half deranged and exhilarated. I rolled my head to face him. Blood dripped from my mouth. "Rematch next week."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFuvCylwCtu3-MljozfLsbloIfxTD9o-zJ-iC2UfP8dOhTCk_6tCfauvZP9YIy91ioKtigoVWPKrgZ7j8YAqqTCSA1Ymtg-MWC9wQOJxXCv0U-qOyEs76IBe9xit33MJICgwd6KBDKvg/s1600-h/fightclub6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibFuvCylwCtu3-MljozfLsbloIfxTD9o-zJ-iC2UfP8dOhTCk_6tCfauvZP9YIy91ioKtigoVWPKrgZ7j8YAqqTCSA1Ymtg-MWC9wQOJxXCv0U-qOyEs76IBe9xit33MJICgwd6KBDKvg/s400/fightclub6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332592574473002978" border="0" /></a>The whole time, Tyler had been standing off to the side, observing quietly. Every once in a while, she would give a small smirk at a sharp crack of heads butting or the satisfying crunch of fist meeting face. Others cheered loudly, wishing not the destruction of anyone but the thrill of destroying something beautiful. We were all even in the eyes of Fight Club.<br /><br />Tyler lit another cigarette with a quick flip of his silver lighter.<br /><br />I watched other fights from my spot against the wall. I cheered with the other women, though each cry was partly a cry from pain. At the end of the night, nearly half the room was bruised and beaten, but the fire of the night was alight within them.<br /><br />Each turned back into the man they had been as they left the harshly lit basement into the crisp night air, but I could see the stride of the prideful women inside them.<br /><br />I was the last to leave. I waited until even Tyler Durden had left the basement. I looked down at the blood and sweat that drenched the floor. Taking a deep breath of the stench trapped down here, I knew I was hooked.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpg9Gon_lkKWU5K1iiDLNW0PR_FP4CnAQxsFPD2vk_cImWRgo1TkNa4UVqUjC2vbcnQNqDgOr0HDWCZnh2xLiwqO5ABkqblIwoCOozp_e0aVsmY_qNcFURAR3q019xP24y_-lt1p4BeBw/s1600-h/fightclub4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpg9Gon_lkKWU5K1iiDLNW0PR_FP4CnAQxsFPD2vk_cImWRgo1TkNa4UVqUjC2vbcnQNqDgOr0HDWCZnh2xLiwqO5ABkqblIwoCOozp_e0aVsmY_qNcFURAR3q019xP24y_-lt1p4BeBw/s400/fightclub4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332592564680415202" border="0" /> </a>I came back the next week. And the week after that. My female body came back with me, scarring and healing just as my body did. In fact she never left. Whenever I'm at work, filing papers and crunching numbers, I can feel her inside me, waiting patiently for her chance to come out and relieve my tension out through her fist into another woman's jaw and stomach. She used to be nameless, this raging brute of a woman inside me, but she has accumulated one all her own: Scarlett. The others call her Scar for short.<br /><br />I am Scarlett's wasted life. She is my smirking revenge.<br /><br /></div>**Pictures from <a href="http://suicidegirls.com/albums/site/13576/gallery/html/#">Suicide Girls</a>.**<br /></div>Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-34622957388289369472009-05-05T01:12:00.000-07:002009-05-05T01:22:03.747-07:00Status Update: One Month<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Gg4OAv_hdrehIS9otW1pJxrdxZz6UWL3Z9BB0WzQJHkYqafuHdwljj0O3xTCPyWYJHrIaiQe0IVUL5OoIHSftUQpoo1_2oye8SxxkYzZI05b35BW5E9MMrB47LdS2LcnJwRzrL-CNdo/s1600-h/fedorahatup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Gg4OAv_hdrehIS9otW1pJxrdxZz6UWL3Z9BB0WzQJHkYqafuHdwljj0O3xTCPyWYJHrIaiQe0IVUL5OoIHSftUQpoo1_2oye8SxxkYzZI05b35BW5E9MMrB47LdS2LcnJwRzrL-CNdo/s400/fedorahatup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332249757613879186" border="0" /></a>Yes indeed it has been one month to the day (and probably to the hour) that I started this little site I like to call The Fedora Hat. 30 TG stories later this blog is at full swing and I have no intention of stopping.<br /><br />I'd like to thank Rebecca Molay for linking to me in her blog and everyone else who has begun to do so as well. It's always a joy to see my Follower count jump another number or see my link on another site.<br /><br />I'd also like to thank those of you who write your fun and supportive comments. In no particular order: Lady Alexia, Celtic Wish, Michael, Tina, Sport, and zakiszak thank you. I really appreciate the comments and the sense of community I already feel within the TG bloggers.<br /><br />And what better way to celebrate than with a story about my favorite magical TG subject? Bodysuits!Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-12241941627401806772009-05-05T00:46:00.000-07:002009-05-05T01:11:12.523-07:00Routine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyUtWx2Mo52JGNr3CA-rqfsM4RgjyuKXXYyZD9KPie1ow5EjR0_sJo3RYMcXIVfIqr53TvTZKprCnY-Gkh-udbi4FF8hU5IZpMci0sH-U4bZigL397Ec16ZtFN6qYBd4JCalUCpDP1bI/s1600-h/11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyUtWx2Mo52JGNr3CA-rqfsM4RgjyuKXXYyZD9KPie1ow5EjR0_sJo3RYMcXIVfIqr53TvTZKprCnY-Gkh-udbi4FF8hU5IZpMci0sH-U4bZigL397Ec16ZtFN6qYBd4JCalUCpDP1bI/s400/11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332243149535136114" border="0" /></a>"This bodysuit is amazing!"<br /><br />Tenchi was still marveling at his voluptuous breasts when he made the exclamation. Every time he put the suit on, he could change his appearance into that of any woman he imagined!<br /><br />Last night he had envisioned a smokin' hot japanese girl from online mixed with a blonde bimbo from his class. The previous night he had tried the body of Jessica Simpson. There seemed to be no limit to what the bodysuit could turn him into.<br /><br />Tonight he had decided that he would try what he thought a comicbook superheroine would look like in real life, but without the clothes of course.<br /><br />He had waited until night time as always and stripped down all of his clothes in preparation. He didn't need to, but the latex of the suit always felt nice against his bare skin.<br /><br />He always started with his arms, unlike most people who started with their legs. Well most people who own body morphing suits, that is. Tenchi liked to imagine that most people started with their legs. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the inside tips of the suits', he no longer felt the skin. That had freaked him out the first time, but now it felt natural that his chubby fingers fit inside such delicate hands so easily.<br /><br />He pulled each arm up to his shoulders and let the chest of the suit lay on his own. He liked to play with this part, as the breasts seemed to inflate whenever they touched his chest. So he'd pull the suit on and off his chest. Tonight he played for over ten minutes before finally moving on to pulling on his new head. He accidentally brushed his new nipple and shivered at the touch. His dick hardened quickly at the sensation. He worked the mask over his scalp and felt as his own hair no longer existed, to be replaced by long and luscious locks of the hot brunette he had envisioned.<br /><br />Finally were the legs, which he put on one leg at a time. Tenchi always laughed at himself for that joke, it never had truer meaning. Too bad there was no one around to tell it too. Oh well, his secret, their loss. No more leg hair and perfectly toned legs were such a huge benefit to putting on the suit. As he pulled it up around his ass, he could feel as he now had a large ass to match his equally large breasts. Not only that, but his dick had been replaced by an already moist vagina.<br /><br />The only thing left to do was to close up his back and neck, but before doing that, he took a hand and arm of the suit. With his own hand, not the suit's, he massaged his own breast and sighed at the feeling of a simulated man touching him. Tenchi loved the feeling and basked in the pleasure.<br /><br />Tenchi finished up and put his arm back inside the suit and closed up the rest of the suit at the bottom of his neck. Maybe he'd go out and get another man to massage his breasts tonight...and maybe a whole more.<br /><br />"This bodysuit is amazing!"Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-16095659475607818972009-05-03T01:13:00.000-07:002009-05-03T02:00:17.976-07:00The Fountain of Youth: Sacrifice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6Ci54T1xwstR72n9XfpUc2YsEvwvpWa2tySuf6A0Q13LOFXXzgM8dOKdVpS7EMBu73WLgf6UNF404omvQCH0nWw0mZCIfjCYkOd8IdBvEwimb9gOm2j84pzFRLPUHhdghsRw7q-pq3E/s1600-h/09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6Ci54T1xwstR72n9XfpUc2YsEvwvpWa2tySuf6A0Q13LOFXXzgM8dOKdVpS7EMBu73WLgf6UNF404omvQCH0nWw0mZCIfjCYkOd8IdBvEwimb9gOm2j84pzFRLPUHhdghsRw7q-pq3E/s400/09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331508061187367346" border="0" /></a>"Legend tells of a lake that provides life. The lake yields youth and beauty to any who swim within its waters. The path to this long foretold 'fountain of youth' is long and treacherous; many have died in pursuit of its promises. Of all who have sought the lake, only one has returned, but not as he came.<br /><br />The man's scars and injuries were healed, his skin was flawless and his eyes, although sad, shone with the fire of immortality.<br /><br />Many men asked how he made it or what lies in wait beyond the dark forest. To all questions, he said only one thing:<br /><br />'Sacrifice your life for eternal life.'<br /><br />No one knows what he meant by it, and to this day, no one has ever made it to the lake alive. But those who do make the trek know that they must sacrifice something, but they do not know what.<br /><br />And the man? He still lives, high up in the mountains, still grieving over that which he had lost."<hr /> My grandfather told me this story time and time again. It was always my favorite story. And thinking back, it was probably the reason that I grew to love the outdoors as much as I did. Now, twenty years later, I still keep his teachings and stories in mind whenever I go out into the wilderness.<br /><br />So much so, in fact, that I have been researching the fabled lake in an attempt to see if there was any truth to my favorite bedtime story. I hit the jackpot over a week ago when I used satellite images to sweep an area of forest. The only reason the lake even sparked my interest was that it's not on any paper maps, ancient or current. I have since made the journey through dangerous forests and high ravines.<br /><br />Today, I finally reached the fabled lake. There it was, the fountain from my stories and legend. It was beautiful, trees and crystal clear water.<br /><br />I wasted no time in stripping down all my clothes. I stepped into the water, refreshing in its coolness. I could feel my energy returning almost as soon as my toes touched the placid surface of the lake. I laughed, it seemed as if I could do anything, especially with my feet. My feet were under the water, and they felt powerful. I wanted that feeling for my whole body, so I dove headfirst into the center of the lake. I swam around and marveled at how my body felt.<br /><br />I could feel my body literally change around me. It felt as if my hair was growing in tenfolds, my chest and ass expanding, my facial features were changing. I was so overjoyed at having finally found the lake that I took each change in stride. It didn't worry me that my waist and arms were shrinking. I loved how my legs felt smooth and soft, as if the water was giving them new life. My crotch and chest felt wonderfully sensitive to the water rushing past my rejuvenated body.<br /><br />Still laughing, I walked out of the lake, my body still awash in the glow of being given eternal youth. Only then did I notice the changes that had taken place throughout my body. I had become a woman. My hair was long and blonde, my arms were so skinny, my voice was too high. I was beautiful.<br /><br />I did not understand it, how could this happen? But then it hit me, my grandfather had warned me time and time again:<br /><br />"Sacrifice your life for eternal life."<br /><br />I would live forever, but in a body completely foreign to me. No connections, no friends, no family. Was it worth it?Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5527298477921531103.post-61951524511165054062009-05-01T01:25:00.001-07:002009-05-01T01:45:28.698-07:00FML<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0nrI1AVGeeD4qTi_qVXUQVr9DX3ykqTRGI33ZkQKfIkBhqVdzeTqVsnxyMKC6GmkSuarXogoaUlnFPlj992rzbzOoIGrt28aN3IHhFy2H6SrPFU3fvRT_YXuAu5rqIBM8ECI7Fqr6KQ/s1600-h/120608.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0nrI1AVGeeD4qTi_qVXUQVr9DX3ykqTRGI33ZkQKfIkBhqVdzeTqVsnxyMKC6GmkSuarXogoaUlnFPlj992rzbzOoIGrt28aN3IHhFy2H6SrPFU3fvRT_YXuAu5rqIBM8ECI7Fqr6KQ/s200/120608.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330772481579294690" border="0" /></a>Today, I accidentally ran into the girl I have crush on. We both fell down, but I laughed it off as I got up. She didn't apologize or say anything at all. She just walked away. In my body. And I was in hers. FML.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMkkwr98iefGvML1hY7sPd5l5SHcfAlHfhGh7WujcU9yCinl27C1_1LC6FL0iW2Au8bFvySlvcIsPNFf7LjnJAuTZp6ExYBFAbTzZpssI2n5iutgv4uvBZT1Jx9wIKfZT8sARqqy6VtM/s1600-h/012407.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMkkwr98iefGvML1hY7sPd5l5SHcfAlHfhGh7WujcU9yCinl27C1_1LC6FL0iW2Au8bFvySlvcIsPNFf7LjnJAuTZp6ExYBFAbTzZpssI2n5iutgv4uvBZT1Jx9wIKfZT8sARqqy6VtM/s200/012407.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330772476960658434" border="0" /></a>Today, I switched bodies with my girlfriend with this weird medallion. According to the directions, we could switch back after 12 hours. We each decided to live each other's lives for those 12 hours and then meet back when the time was up. I had fun, but was eager to return to normal. I waited for over 2 hours. She never showed up. FML.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW0AEv3egXN0FHYMCNxdnA43D0DWy0t2csoxtM1Rgpq4UGFj7cNS-JBkB_FqRDy70eYqaOo42g2BDNocxkUbJtSzcV6GIr1baRhyphenhyphenFTFJU5n-2vxEoTop0-pc3ZF9Y98wyXbzRxeKZHkY/s1600-h/062304.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJW0AEv3egXN0FHYMCNxdnA43D0DWy0t2csoxtM1Rgpq4UGFj7cNS-JBkB_FqRDy70eYqaOo42g2BDNocxkUbJtSzcV6GIr1baRhyphenhyphenFTFJU5n-2vxEoTop0-pc3ZF9Y98wyXbzRxeKZHkY/s200/062304.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330772480742349298" border="0" /></a>Today, I used my Master PC program to turn myself into a woman for the first time. I stayed home and messed around, but when I went to change myself back, I accidentally deleted my original form. Now I have to start from scratch, and my wife is coming home soon. FML.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrM8U8DuF3h2qJC1N5w6CazhNjiujXGq1RS_mWwlyLMvopA_-IrhqxDkfz9K9u34etzbcQqpBCkGxUxcotcuEOe0kIpZhKyTTU1BfoD_jUqR5AkZ81khz6vesbUi0Tew4Yoget-hfHQU/s1600-h/041504.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrM8U8DuF3h2qJC1N5w6CazhNjiujXGq1RS_mWwlyLMvopA_-IrhqxDkfz9K9u34etzbcQqpBCkGxUxcotcuEOe0kIpZhKyTTU1BfoD_jUqR5AkZ81khz6vesbUi0Tew4Yoget-hfHQU/s200/041504.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330772478545134018" border="0" /></a>Today, my ex-girlfriend bought me a lifetime pass to the Bikini Beach. FML.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT_Gtu7ieIyegmJpwu_J4AXFhbffZptZF2qtOeCdl35q7Jwld0GYHvAmCZCEEgLRYUDVa_-s3TjOF40RPN81SAHXnaqJN1p1Pg-3KIh7MIcl-B8kvEAqTbH8v2Hw_Q1DqQqkweiL0ZZk/s1600-h/110606.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRT_Gtu7ieIyegmJpwu_J4AXFhbffZptZF2qtOeCdl35q7Jwld0GYHvAmCZCEEgLRYUDVa_-s3TjOF40RPN81SAHXnaqJN1p1Pg-3KIh7MIcl-B8kvEAqTbH8v2Hw_Q1DqQqkweiL0ZZk/s200/110606.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330772480898232898" border="0" /></a>Today, I was able to have one wish come true. I wished for a big-titted woman. I got the wish, because now I am that big-titted woman. FML.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Today, I bought a bodysuit that changed my body into that of a fully-functioning female. The only problem is that you can't get semen on it, or the suit is permanent. I put my hands in the suits' and jacked off using woman's hands. I was careful to not get any jizz on the suit, but not careful enough. Now I have woman's hands and a suit permanently attached to them. FML.Dianahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12470581663986309513noreply@blogger.com2