Beksinski's alien terraforming

And here, at last, is the promised new Beksinski post. A couple of weeks ago I discovered a blog devoted to his art, a blog that included lots of pictures I hadn't seen before - and larger, clearer versions of pictures I had seen. Once I'd downloaded everything I wanted, I cleaned up some of the images even more; so what you're seeing below is a genuine group effort. These pictures have come from all over the net, and some of them have made several stops along the way.

I can't share everything I found with you, not all at once. So I came up with a theme to build a selection around. Quite naturally, the first thing that occurred to me was alien terraforming. As a matter of fact, what occurred to me was transdimensional alien terraforming. Here's a wisp of a story for you.

The Old Ones had been waiting for aeons, in the seas beyond our universe. And now, at last, the stars were right. They could return. They burst asunder the doors separating their world from ours, and then they came inside.

The Old Ones strode across the earth, taller than the highest mountains, stranger than the depths of the seas. And everywhere they strode, they claimed. None could hope to oppose them.

 

They filled the earth with their alien ooze, remaking lands, plants, animals....

They repurposed buildings to meet their needs, turning even the simplest structures into portals of dread.

And, of course, they repurposed humans, too. They loved nothing better.

And so, at last, the dimensions were united. Into one. Big. Happy. Family.

The time Matt Bellamy MC'ed Grace Jones

I told you I might get distracted before I got around to posting those Beksinski pictures. ;-)

So, did you know that all the while Matt Bellamy has been ranting about MK Ultra and mind-controlling satellites, he's just been taking the piss? Oh, you did? Good. I did, too. But I didn't know just how he'd been taking the piss until this moment. See, all along, Matt has secretly been one of Them. And what's worse, Dom and Chris are Illuminati as well.

Oh, yes, it's true. I've just found a blogger who put a lot thought and effort into the subject, so I don't dare contradict him. Besides, if I did, he'd just assume I was one more MC'ed drone; and things would only go downhill if I said I wished I was.

I'll give you the link in a second, but first I need to warn you that not everything you'll see there is as much fun as the Grace Jones bit. In fact, I almost didn't blog about this article, because some of the stuff in the middle of it is pretty grim. Real-world grim. But finally I decided to put the link out there and let you all decide what to do with it. You can...

1. Follow the link below and read the whole blog post, understanding that some parts of it will probably upset you,
2. Follow the link below and skip over the upsetting section, which begins with the paragraph about the "Sunburn" video and continues to just above the video of the woman in the red bikini, or
3. Skip the link entirely.

The choice is yours, assuming you're not a victim of MK Ultra, yourself.

Fairy fornication

Not long ago I was given a book about fairies. Most of the pictures were cute, if not downright twee; but when I took a closer look at this one, I realized it was a little...different.

First, the credits: the artist is Sir Joseph Noel-Paton, and the title of the piece is The Quarrel of Oberon and Titania (though I must say, they don't look particularly quarrelsome to me. I guess they're just getting started).

Now at first glance, this looks like a typically bloodless, idealized Victorian Era painting. At second glance, you might notice Titania has a lovely figure and Oberon's probably dangling out of his miniskirt. But at third glance, you start to notice the really interesting stuff.  The rest of the fairies in the painting are up to all kinds of naughtiness. Queen Victoria would not approve.

Here are some crops I've taken from the image above, which was the largest version of the painting that I could find online. Look carefully and you'll see...

• a lesbian couple
• a gay male couple (or possibly a trio - it's hard to make out the sex of the third fairy and how s/he is involved)
• a naked Disney princess on acid
• a fattened-up Gollum
• an orgy involving an owl
• a transvestite with a lady friend
• strange goings-on with bowls
• spider worship
• lizard erotica
• a strangely (and to my mind, erotically) obscured face
• a famously horny god
• and, if you look really closely, a figure oddly reminiscent of this Beksinski crawler.

Speaking of Beksinski, I've found a great new site with his artwork, so expect a post on that very soon - probably this week, unless I find a bunch of other more interesting stuff between now and then.

Turnabout's fair play

Last week I blogged about beautiful transwomen featured on a site called Oddee. Well, today Oddee is featuring transmen, so I thought I should do the same. At right is Balian Buschbaum, whom I'd love to see more of. Up close. ;-)

More at this link, which I must say contains a wider variety of "types" than the previous Oddee post. It's nice to see some guy-next-door TG's alongside the potential supermodels.

Be sure to notice the Reader Contributions at the bottom of the page as well.

I've been remiss

It's been too long since I visited Callidus's blog. He has several fantastic new animations up (Collared is my favorite; it's so simple yet so perfect. And Nickelodeon actually made me enjoy mdom - no mean feat!). Check him out.

Watch this. Now.

Huge thanks to Xenia LaFleur for sending me the link to this incredible video, which I wouldn't embed even if I had the code for it. You need to watch this baby full-screen.

Enjoy...and I know you will.

If only I spoke Swedish

I just found an article on my standby source for all things SF, io9, about a new Swedish TV show called Real Humans. It's all about robots, and the ads I've found make it look nicely fetishy. Let's start with this 30-second clip, which I found on the Real Humans website:



And here's the (decidedly darker) one I started with on io9:



If you follow the link to the Real Humans website, you can view several more 30-second ads by scrolling to the bottom of the page. For purely fetish purposes, it doesn't matter if you speak the language or not...but these ads do make me wish I knew Swedish and could see the show online.

Once again, for your viewing pleasure

Since my post about Andrej Pejic went down well, I thought I'd like to another page about beautiful transwomen. Oddee isn't the most reliable source, but I recognize at least some of these beauties (including Pejic), so I'm pretty sure this page is truthful.

At left is Miss International Queen 2011, Sirapassorn Atthayakorn. I also remember seeing pictures once of a Chinese (or possibly Japanese) transvestite model who was one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, but unfortunately he's not listed on this page and I don't remember his name. If anyone out there knows who he is, I'd appreciate a link. I just love the delicate Asian look.

Neal Stephenson knows how to party

I'm currently rereading The Diamond Age, a science fiction novel from Neal Stephenson, the author of Snow Crash. But unlike that novel, The Diamond Age isn't cyberpunk. It's almost steampunk - if steampunk could take place in the future. The clockwork and gears here spin inside nanotech devices.

Now, even when I read this novel for the first time, the scene below struck me as something I really ought to blog about. Unfortunately, I just never got around to it. But now that I'm rereading the book, I have the perfect opportunity to correct past laziness.

Here's all you need to know going into this passage. A guy named Hackworth has been taken in by a weird sort-of-tribe known as the Drummers. We don't know much about them at this point in the novel except that they have a hive mind and seem to exist in a perpetual trance. That's pretty obvious in this scene, which builds from a weird, slow ceremony into a bizarre and slightly hilarious orgy. I'm cutting it short to preserve the feel-good-MC vibe:

     In a cavernous dark space lit by many small fires, a young woman, probably not much more than a girl, stands on a pedestal named except for an elaborate paint job, or maybe it is a total-body mediatronic tattoo. A crown of leafy branches is twined around her head, and she has thick, voluminous hair spreading to her knees. She is clutching a bouquet of roses to her breast, the thorns indenting her flesh. Many people, perhaps thousands, surround her, drumming madly, sometimes chanting and singing.
     Into the space between the girl and the watchers, a couple of dozen men are introduced. Some come running out of their own accord, some look as if they've been pushed, some wander in as if they've been walking down the street (stark naked) and gone in the wrong door. Some are Asian, some European, some African. Some have to be prodded by frenzied celebrants who charge out of the crowd and shove them here and there. Eventually they form a circle around the girl, and then the drumming builds to a deafening crescendo, speeds up until it devolves into a rhythmic hailstorm, and then suddenly, instantly, stops.
     Someone says something in a high, purposeful, ululating voice. Hackworth can't understand what this person is saying. Then there is a single massive drumbeat. More wailing. Another drumbeat. Again. The third drummer establishes a ponderous rhythm. This goes on for awhile, the beat slowly speeding up. After a certain point the wailer no longer stops between beats, he begins to weave his rap through the bars in a sort of counterpoint. The ring of men standing around the girl begin to dance in a very simple shuffling motion, one way and then the other way around the girl. Hackworth notes that all of them have erections, sheathed in brightly colored mediatronic condoms--rubbers that actually make their own light so that the bobbing boners look like so many cyalume wands dancing through the air.
     The drumbeats and the dancing speed up very slowly. The erections tell Hackworth why this is taking so long. He's watching foreplay here. After half an hour or so, the excitement, phallic and otherwise, is unbearable. The beat is now a notch faster than your basic pulse rate, lots of other beats and counterrhythms woven through it, and the chanting of the individual singer has become a wild semi-organized choral phenomenon. At some point,after seemingly nothing has happened for half an hour, everything happens at once. The drumming and chanting explode to a new, impossible level of intensity. The dancers reach down, grip the flaccid reservoir tips of their radioactive condoms, stretch them out. Someone runs out with a knife and cuts the tips of the condoms in a freakish parody of circumcision, exposing the glans of each man's penis. The girl moves for the first time, tossing her bouquet up in the air like a bride making her move toward the limo; the roses fountain, spinning end over end, and come down individually among the dancers, who snatch them out of the air, scrabble for them on the floor, whatever. The girl faints, or something, falling backward, arms out, and is caught by several of the dancers, who hoist her body up over their heads and parade her around the circle for awhile, like a crucified body just crowbarred off of the tree. She ends up flat on her back on the ground, and one of the dancers is between her legs, and in a very few thrusts he has finished. A couple of others grab his arms and yank him out of there before he's even had a chance to tell her he'll still love her in the morning, and another one is in there, and he doesn't take very long either--all this foreplay has got these guys in hair-trigger mode. The dancers manage to rotate through in a few minutes. Hackworth can't see the girl, who's completely hidden, but she's not struggling, as far as he can tell, and they don't seem to be holding her down. Toward the end, smoke or steam or something begins to spiral up from the middle of the orgy. The last participant grimaces even more than the average person who's having an orgasm, and yanks himself back from the woman, grabbing his dick and hopping up and down and hollering in what looks like pain. That's the signal for all of the dancers to jump back away from the woman, who is now kind of hard to make out, just a fuzzy motionless package wrapped in steam.

If this scene piques your interest, I do recommend The Diamond Age as a whole. I learned the hard way that Neal Stephenson isn't always as interesting as he thinks he is (For instance, once I got a bit of distance from Anathem, I decided I didn't care for it after all - and don't even get me started on The Baroque Cycle). But The Diamond Age is a great read. It's not as much fun as Snow Crash, but it has appealing characters and plenty of adventure that carry you all the way to the finish. There's no MC apart from the Drummers, who have only a few critical scenes; but the book itself should be interesting for anyone who appreciates SF and world-building. Stephenson has dreamed up a pretty unique future here.

Oh, and one last note: the image at the top came from Vizerskaya. If you reuse it, be sure to give her credit.