Monday, April 25, 2011

Painting Yourself Every Day

after a strange emotional day, painting at Brioni's always sorts things out

   The New Primgraph Magazine was stuffed in the door of the Hypnotic Shoppe, and I ran to it, threw it onto the desk by the door and flipped to the Hypnotic Shoppe ad. There it was! Stark and mysterious as I had drawn up. I clicked it, to receive the notecard that tells all about the enigmatic advertisement, and nothing happened. No Landmark, no notecard, nothing!
   A full page ad, THOUSANDS of lindens, and it is as good as pointless! The ad cost more than I made in a month at the shoppe, and I knew any moment the creditors would be at the door!
   In Caledon, creditors can not imprison anyone for debt, but does this apply to clockwork persons? They would not need to send me to a jail, just dial up the local junkyard! Can I be "repossessed"?
   Images flashed-of car smashing machines pressing on me, dipping me in bronze and sitting me in some park somewhere, or the New Babbage Smelting and Steel Factory, and the last bath I would ever have,,,
   I found myself sitting at Brioni's, paintbrush in hand. Since becoming sentient i have enjoyed the warm Southend air and sun, painting outside at Brioni's cafe- it is most calming! I tried painting the image of my Typist, hoping she would plea my case to the Great Doll Maker,  shakily throwing color on canvas in huge globs.
   My thoracic cog package developed a strange palpitation in the main pump, flutters in those valves, raised temperature and pressure, slight confusion, and a strange pain in the chest,, is this,, emotion? what a very unpleasant feeling!
   I noted also in this "Clockwork" issue, in the pictures of the Clockwork ball, I was missing, in the article for clockwork and doll shoppes of the Steamlands, I was missing, in the clockwork Who's Who article, same. At first I thought perhaps it was because they saw the real me so well, they no longer even saw my key, heard the ticking. But what if it was something else?  Ohh, the pressure rose more, my mouth and skin got terribly dry. My hand shook as I tried to emulate Van Gogh's brush stroke method.
   A courier walked up with a huge bouquet of Flowers! In it was a letter, from one of my students at the University- Boog75.
   "Saw this and thought of you- Thank you for the class."
   I held the stool with both hands as my body shook and my eyes leaked hot water in torrents. I laughed and hugged my flowers, which had a powerfully sweet fragrance.
   I finished the painting, capped my oils and sat for a long time, trying to get all my brain cogs to spin at the same speed. I realized I was painting myself. We are all painting ourselves, every day. And some people see some meanings and images in your art, and others see other sides. I needed to keep painting me, because where some people may see an indebted metal automaton fit for the scrapyard, others saw a smart and giving professor, that cared for them, and they cared back. And sent flowers.

Wearing the DCNY swing coat, fashionable for Spring

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Istar Bunny, an Easter Tale

The Istar Bunny- An Easter Tale, Based on a Dream by Slippers, 2011

MC, trans, reluc, mf, md, gr
DISCLAIMER: This material is for adults only; it contains explicit sexual imagery and content of an adult nature. If you are offended by this type of material or you are under legal age in your area, do NOT continue.
Copyright © 2011 Slippers ( All rights reserved; this story is not to be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author. This story may be freely circulated only with permission, in its entirety and with this notice attached.
Easter’s roots lie in Pagan past and present!
Most of my writings are actual events I've experienced, with names or such changed. This story is from a dream I had, intermixed with real life events. If you were at the church events related to this story please do not post those events ok? As you know it would damage my church position and hurt people. The story has non-consensual sex and though I try to tame down the graphic language, the graphic nature is evident.
   FOR THOSE EASILY TRANCED- realize I write all my stories half-tranced (or more), living and reliving it from every character’s perspective, to get more realistic actions based on the characters’ senses. This story, though basically fiction, includes actual trancy events, and I have tried to write them faithfully from reliving the events, and writing what I could about it, including the trancing when appropriate. If you are easily tranced like me, PLEASE be careful when reading my stories.
   Please be kind- I write to express what I cannot in my real world. Much of what I write, I have experienced first hand, and due to my family and occupational restrictions, can never share with those closest to me. Names are always changed.
   Louise put the last colorful egg into the brown paper bag, and through the back door open quickly. She had to get to the church Easter Egg hunt before the children, so she could hide the thirty plastic eggs, each with a toy or candy inside. She had spent hours on them, struggling to pop and seal each plastic egg without breaking them, and feeling rather smug about her achievement.
   ‘Three years of college seems to have taught me something, I can make religious objects!’ She mused to herself.
   The wind was a bit chilly, and cut through her cream wool pantsuit, slapping at her blonde ponytail. She stepped outside quickly and pulled the door hard, to fight the old wooden door’s resistance to latch properly. The door slammed hard, rattling the window.
   A large full lop eared, bunny sat up in the backyard, its front paws in the air. It was so large, anyone would have noticed him, as did Louise.
   “Ohh,, a bunny!” She gasped aloud. She stood still, sensing the bunny’s natural tendency to run at any sight or sound. It stood there, small black nose twitching furiously on his deep brown body. Small white areas around the eyes added facial gestures, and his eyebrows were black and thick with brow hairs- similar to his whiskers. He sat his paws back down on the ground, and began eating the grass Louise had forgotten to mow that week.
   Louise sat the sack on the cement walk, that led to her garage in the back of the old house. She stood admiring the regal bunnie’s thick shiny fur, and after a few minutes, had begun to creep forward, to see how close she could get to him.
   40 feet, 30,, 20,,, She slowly stepped with one foot at a time, feeling something akin to what a hunter must feel, at a successful prowl to her prey. At ten feet she began to crouch, careful not to get grass stains on her pantsuit.
   “Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail,,” She sang melodiously, and slow. The Bunny looked up, and then hunched forward, as if ready to sprint away. Louise stopped moving, now almost on all fours, less than three feet from the huge rabbit. Her hands were on the wet grass, but she kept her knees from the dew.
   “I’m Louise. What a cute big bunny you are!” Her voice was a whisper. She didn’t want to be late for the picnic, but how often did she get so close to nature? The bunny stood up on its rear legs again, propped on his rump by his fluffy tail, and unbelievably large feet. He had small drops of dew on his fur, but they were beads, as if he might be water resistant. His nose twitched slowly, and his little black button-eyes darted back and forth, stopping frequently stopping at Louise.
   “What brings you to my back yard little bunny?” Louise queried, now speaking in a normal tone. The bunny did not run, or even flinch. He tipped back his head, sniffing the air, then aimed his wiggly nose back at Louise, his eyes catching the morning sunshine. His bright black eyes gleamed brightly.
   Louise found her vision blocked by her clothing, a scarf or what have you. She instinctively brushed at it, flinched, hopped. She hopped again. Her breath was fast and shallow and her heart was racing. She felt dizzy, and confused.
   She craned her neck to the left, and saw a huge mound of clothes, equal to a circus tent in volume. She stared in amazement as she realized the off white wool blend, the pin striping, the plastic belt, were from her morning’s ensemble. Then she heard the powerful and sexy voice in her head of the male beside her.
   “HERE…ME…YOU…LEAFY-EAT…HOP…FEAR…NO…COME…SNIFF.” She couldn’t quite understand his words / thoughts, but why should she be able to? He was a rabbit! Louise shook her head, slinging her blonde pony, , wait,, EARS. She twitched again, as the dark brown Lop munched on grass, and felt her long ears wiggle, then sit against her warm furry back. She no longer felt the wind, or even cold. Just the wet grass against her bottom, and her large furry feet. Her brain screamed in rebellion and she turned her attention to the male in front of her. He smelled like a wet dog kinda, with a musky cologne mixed in.
   “I am Louise, see, What happened? Why can I hear your thoughts? What is going on!!! I’m going to be late for church!” She breathed rapidly, hopping away from him two small leaps, then turning back to him. ‘This isn’t happening’, she grasped.
   Louise tried to cradle her face in her hands, but her thick paws would not turn so far around. Her “thumb” nail caught her cheek, and she gazed at how long and sharp her nails were. She had never noticed before how strong and agile, and muscular a bunny was, and with what weapons it could defend itself. She felt just the way she had when she got the shots and medicines at the hospital, during her miscarriage: Woozy, warm, confused.
  The male neared her right side, somewhat behind her. His nose pushed against her right front paw, and his personal fragrance was that of a heavenly perfume, a powerful undeniable scent, and she felt very silly suddenly. She turned to face the mysterious dark brown male.
   “What, am I like, why,, am I this way? Why are you,, this way?” She stared into his deep brown eyes. They were watery with sadness and he was about to expound a story to her, she could tell. She felt however the presence of
   “CROW…RUN CROW NO…FREEZE… EAT?” He thought to the female Louise.
   She looked down at the long deep green stalks of luscious greenery, soft and wet. She hesitantly bent her nose to the sweet smelling veggie, but froze with cold blood as the shadow of a large crow flew overhead, toward the cornfield and farm at the end of the street. She was starting to understand the language, the mannerisms, the nobility of the male.
   “I…leafygreen great!…tell me…how you… dog?” She heard the neighbor’s dog, well over a hundred yards away, running down the street. He had gotten loose again. She tried to rephrase her words, but the buzzing in her head was dizzying. She concentrated, her breath slowing slightly, but her sides still heaving. The male’s warm fur was beside her now, touching her as she breathed, sending strange confusing images through her brain. She refocused.
   “You…how did…wait I mean…why I…how you…confusion…” She shook her head, swimming and feeling suddenly very very warm. Her loins beneath her felt as if she had to pee, but she wasn’t sure that was it, since she had gone just before she left the house for that place she was going to go, wherever it was. Her body trembled and she felt so warm she was going to pass out. The male had leaned against her right side.
   “SEX…TELL…WONDERFUL” He said, in his deep, and lusty voice, thick with accent. She looked up at him, ready to reiterate her confusion, trying to find the words to describe her questions, if indeed there were such things. The muscles in her body had turned to a jelly within her gorgeous pelt, and she found even raising up to be nearly impossible. She felt her heart race, and a burning itch aggrivate her irritated loins. She phrased and rephrased her question in her mind.
   “How…why?…Thank…wonderful you…” She was struggling for a word, she knew there was a word for him saving her life from the crow, for his care of her during this weirdness, helping her with her problem, her rather serious problem. She knew the problem was life or death, but just what the problem was had momentarily escaped her, as the male began nibbling on her neck. His strong left front arm/paw caressed her back, her tired shoulders, her long flattened out ears.He hugged her firmly, lovingly. Her head rested on the soft earth. She looked slightly to her side, as she saw him angle his muscular body behind her.
   “sex no…how…need to…need to…need? She couldn’t remember just exactly what she was about to say. She could barely get her body to obey her thoughts, let alone retrieve thoughts that were rolling out her head as surely as the bright colorful objects had rolled out the brown wood-cloth thing, and sat on the plush leafygreen.
   “NEED…” His warm heavy body pushed roughly against her, nearly rolling her forward. She threw her arms out in front, and balanced by lifting her tail high. This was the angle the male needed, as he quickly penetrated the Louise female.
   Visions, from a thousand movies, and her own thoughts, were clipped and pasted together and played rapidly in her mind, making little sense:
   A long dead civilization, living in a sandy land, worshipped the great Goddess of sexuality and wisdom, hunting, and more. She had been called many things. The male was biting her neck harder, she squealed. The ancient goddess had been named Istar, and there was a priest that cut up rabbits and sacrificed the ovaries before the orgy rituals. Her hips were ramming back onto his thrusts, and her head was swooning, filled with buzzing and overdosing on hormones. Her face was crushing into the soil, her lip cut by her own tooth as her male drove her. The priest had upset Istar and for punishment was made a bunny, forced to sacrifice one thousand of the two-leggers in some bizarre method she didn’t understand. Her body felt wasted as he got up off her. The visions faded. She sighed and relaxed onto the warm soil.
   He smelled the air. She smelled it too. Apples! They were by the cornfield, and there would surely be crows, but advancing together with her male, they would scare them off. She looked up at him, dazily.
   “You…me?” She spun toward him, as he chewed the soft sweet leafygreen. She nuzzled his nose with hers, even stealing his blade of leafygreen from his lips, playfully. He looked up, with mock anger.
   She twitched her nose the way he knew meant no, and said “you me?” The strange buzzing in her ears had cleared, and she checked for danger, then tried to remember what she was trying to remember to ask her male. He smelled the air, noting the one lone crow near the apple tree. He turned sadly to his female.
   The female had a tear in her eye she couldn’t quite blink away. She grabbed up a mouthful of grass and straw to make her bedding. She knew she had to make her tunnels soon. She could tell from her body heat, her smell, she was fertile. She knew the male had given her wonderful life. She knew soon another male would need her, take her, and give her another chance to perform that which she was created to do. She wasn’t really certain why she was crying, but whatever it was causing the sadness, she was sure a meal of apples would make it better.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

The SLPC Meeting

the SLPC meeting at Wild Pony Girls Sim, led by Evangeline, far right

   I had just swept and dusted the Shoppe, and had opened all the windows, letting Spring's chilly but fresh air clear away the stagnation, mildew and dirt as only a strong cold win can. I dragged the entrance rug out front for a good beating, when a rider pulled up out front, pulled by two ponies. She was not dressed as usual for Caledon, though the shiny stretchy material is quite common on dolls. She waved, smiling.
   "Are you Wendy?"
   Throwing down the carpet, I nodded, raising a finger for a moment's pause, and scurried inside. My heels clicked and scuffed across the wood floor of the Shoppe and I was back in a moment with a small candy dish. I held it out to the rider who took one of my home made, Orange Dream caramels, and after receiving permission, gave one to each of the hard working ponies. I should mention, these are not the kind of ponies that like sugar cubes, but they did like my caramel!
   I was handed an invite to the first Second Life Pony Club meeting- a forum for all to speak, for opinions, ways to improve the genre, and more. My cogs ticked louder and louder as I felt a rush of excitement!
   I had just the thing to wear, too!
   Minutes later, the rider had gone, and I climbed into my copper balloon. It was Spring, and I had every intention of wearing my new Gisaci fabric Coat - dress! It went with the Juicy sling backs, and with goggles on, I was at Salena Larsen's WPG Sim in no time! I took a quick pass first- it is such a beautiful sim, so many lovely steeple courses, dressage fields, cart tracks and barrel and slalom courses, all turning green with the Blessings of Spring. The dance club is pretty nice too. I landed between it and the outdoor mall, and snuck into the meeting quietly.
   Mikky was there with Kara! I don't know why that surprised me, she is one of the best trainers in the world here,and my good fortune to meet her, befriend her and her friends and train with them, is largely why I won all those fancy trophies I have on the shelves in the shoppe, on the second floor. They are not so much a bragging, as a testament to all dolls, ponies, robots and those that come to the shoppe- if even this young clockwork person can achieve these, so can you!
Salena and Swenyia, Mikky and Kara, and me!

Mikky and Kara hugged me, and I wanted to hug and say hi to Miss Larsen, but um, well, she is Miss Larsen and I did not really feel um,, it was not how I um,, OK OK OK! I was scared!

They had great ideas, about changing the contests so instead of competing against each other, we competed against a time, and all that beat that time, are winners- more inclusive and breeds comaraderie, which we need. Some of the BDSM ponies spoke up on needing more strict play, and some others spoke against it, but we all spoke and accepted, and it was a very good beginning of things!

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Madame's Birthday Party (NSFW)

Madame Wender hid inside the cake willingly. She was told the party was for Rhonda, one of my doll sisters at Doll Lovers Paradise. Instead, it was how we disguised the party in her honor. It was the easiest way to fool her of course. She's wayyy too smart to fall for the usual ploys and ruses.
  So we asked her for help showing love and friendship to a doll.

   It will work every time on her, I think, because she willingly makes the choice to help and assist literally thousands of dolls and doll lovers every year- Sims are not cheap nor is all the decorations, furniture, textures of The Doll Lovers Paradise. She gives more hours to her beloved dolls and friends then to herself, in First or Second Life. if you need money, she'd loan it. Need a hug? Madame Wender Lorefield has taken hugging to a new level! Need a domme? She excels. She is an accomplished dollmaker, a hostess and a businesswoman.
   When I was a new sentient doll, roaming this world, I had nowhere to rest my head, no way to make the money needed to achieve my dream- my own shoppe with cute wallpaper, fun and strange items for sale and hypnosis theme. Soaking wet from the rain, I scuffed the floor with my freebie shoes and asked her for any job at all. She smiled, and gave me a job dancing (more like polishing a brass pole with my thighs) and talking to wonderful people that love dolls! Soon she said I was doing so well she trained me in making people happy in other ways, and not long after, I had enough money to walk into the enormous stately white manor of Guvnah Desmond Shang, and request a small piece of Caledonian ground on which to build my dream.
   I don't think she knows how important her small act of giving is to me, well,, until now I guess!

   Here are some pictures of my doll friends, and their friends. People like to dress dolls in ways that make them happy to look upon them, so if nudity offends you might wish to stop here with a simple:
   Happy Birthday, Madame Wender Lorefield, and thank you; your selfless devotion and love for those that share your dreams inspires love in all  who meet you! All my Love,  a young clockwork doll named Wendy.

Host Orvan, loyal, witty, tastes like beef, not chicken.

Jenni and Madame Wender, Udderly gorgeous!

Madadh and Brandi- sisters, Jedis, and dolls!

Adira, Kattherine, and me! Notice contest "Best Madame"

Rhonda, Madame, and Markie and a HUGE Cake!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Sunset in Victorian Gardens in Spring


   This unretouched photo shows just how lovely the sunsets can be in Second Life, and in my pretty home! Spring is here and the grass is green now, and in the evening the bugs seem to sing with the rhythm of my key's ticking. Streetlamps light at dusk, and a new city comes to life, of nighttime, and oil lamps and stores open late. I teach until late at night at Oxbridge, so it is very handy to have such late hours available. Soon the spray from the ocean's waves won't bite with winter's chill, and I can swim the cape again!