Great Goddess(es)

t has risen to my consciousness that some of you may have been offended by my very public castration of Lust (see: last post... or don't see it. I don't care) and so I apologize, for the fault is clearly mine: I failed to specify that this is a multi-part series.

... and as the severed member sailed across the heavens; from it's dripping blood sprang the giants of the earth, and then, whence rested in the ocean, from foam fared Aphrodite...

That's right, LUST becomes LOVE you silly mongooses and geeses! As for the Three Sisters, what ever became of them? Hmm, now that's an interesting question, thank you for asking: they became a very just and righteous archetype of their own happenstance.

Now listen: I shall not deny that, well... I become aggressive sometimes... a bit too pushy and demanding, maybe just overly forceful... at times. But listen, I never actually tried to offend anyone.... albeit, that becomes less and less of an excuse each time that I used it.

I must realise to learn to understand the patterns of my behaviour. I like patterns, because they make sense. They are beautiful, meticulous, and they have no apparent cause. It's like they always existed and always shall, in ways that we can never truly understand.

Hurting you (yes, YOU!) was the last thing I ever wanted to do, so please accept, as my abject apology: my guilt, my humiliation, my shame. Maybe I should write less about things that I barely understand, but on the other hand, there is something about that foam...

That frothy foamy goodness.

Yum.

The Three Sisters

As you know, I never made a dime off my caps, but if I did, I'd have to give it all back... and you know, I've often lamented the loss of my old blog (#1 TG Caption blog of 2008-09 according to Google) I realize now that it's probably for the best.

You see, I've made a non-living exploring the pleasure potential of the Three Sisters: Guilt, Shame and Humiliation. I ever went so far to claim they were the root of our shared inclinations. I was wrong.

The Mother in question is simply just that, like the Cosmological Constant, always lurking in the background. It manages to save but a few the deformed children made by Lust every night.

I will talk more about this unhappy family in the weeks (and months?) to come. See, I need a break from my book, and a more-than-unhealthy outlet for my raging emotions, which are only going to get the more volatile.

... and so one day, the emotions all stood together and bound the incestuous Lust with unbreakable wire; then with meticulous grinding of the strongest blade known, the vile offender was castrated.

Anyway, some of yous have been asking about Matthew: nope, still no word. Some of yous others might remember him as my right hand man and moral compass from days hence. He was always there when I needed him. I was not there for him.

I know he's still out there, and I know he's reading this... when the time is right, he will contact me. I will be ready this time.

Yes, we are all our neighbour's keeper, and this neighbourhood is not as big as it seems. We've all made mistakes, some of them big. Are we bad? I really don't think so, no not really (except for YOU!! Naw just kidding, you're awesome!) but still we make bad choices now and again.

We all need to be here for each other, to support one another. It's the only way this works... but then who am I to talk? For many long years, I indulged the Three Sisters, but strangely enough, they still led me in the right direction.

Finding Matthew

Okay, so... yeah. This is a bit awkward.

I know, I know, I am the MOST irresponsible blogger in the word: sounding crazy one minute and absolutely BATSHIT the next. I've been whiling away the hours on disposable social media while my foundation has been laid to waste by the most insipid forms of rot.

I'm back?

Yeah, we've heard that one before: new beginning, blah blah blah... well listen, fuck it. This time it's important. I am looking for Matthew and I know that he's reading this, so please please please get back in touch with me. You know how to reach me.

As for the rest of you? Well, let me put the rumours to rest: yes, I have started to transition, and no, it has not been easy. I am losing my marriage, my house, and quite possibly my job. Fortunately, I haven't any kids, which is pretty much the only thing that keeps the scales from tipping back.

There is no right or wrong, should or shouldn't. We all have different lives and different circumstances, and good for one is bad for another. Heck, the notion of transitioning can mean so many things, and I still do not know what it holds in store for me.

So anyway, here I am, two years later, after having had so much FUN in the company of others. Here, trying to keep the friends who are actually worth a shit and find the others who slipped between the cracks. And then there is all of you, my most faithful, faceless readers...

Are you with me? Can we do this together?

I need my Matthew first.

The Birth of Pegasus and Chrysaor 1876-1885 Edward Burne-Jones.

Golden Swords and Flying Horses

You know, this blog was a lot more fun when it was illicit. So much has changes since those first fateful days I ever put pixel to, uh... pixel (???) but anyway folks, the point is: so much crazy shit has happened, I just don't give a fuck, you know?

Now, now, little puppets! You know I still love each and every single one of you... yes, even you... but, well... the world has exploded. I mean, seriously folks: when I was young, we just didn't TALK about anything, much less THIS.

It was fun poking holes in those inflated boobs of ours, feeling our minds deflate along with our egos... but all good things must come to end. I am talking about that time when we finally decide to swap places with our fantasies.

Now don't wet panties thinking of some scenario where I somehow tear you from your chair, or wherever you are standing, reaching through the screen and literally drag you into a digital world of my own devising... or maybe I do.

So like, my life is changing in so many fabulous ways. Won't you come with me? Or would you rather go about your day only dreaming about what is possible. Why even stretch those limits and jump right into a whole reality?

Enjoy?

Chrysaor?

Out with the old...

So yeah, I've done very little on this blog over the past several months: a few new starts and restarts, a wrong turn here or there... mainly, I've turned my excess energies towards my Tumblr which you may want to check out if you haven't done so already.

But I have not abandoned you, not by a long a shot. I've been working hard behind the scenes, and although it's taken me a lot longer than expected, my book is finally starting to eke its way into actual drafts. Should you be excited? Most definitely!

I hope that the development of my book will correlate with the growth of my mental, physical, spiritual, emotional, social, professional... well, just about every aspect of my life, really, It's been a helluva a past several months, but I can almost feel the big wheel turning.

It the spirit of moving on, I thought to re-post some "Classic Brenda" captions. So after digging through the archives, and after my queasiness subsided (it's amazing how much captions have evolved over the years) I managed to find a small handful that didn't make my stomach churn.

Plus, I wanted to something special for a friend on his birthday (hi there!). This will have to do for now, but I hope, sometime really really soon, to provide you all with a beefier update and perhaps a sneak peek into my growing pile of pages.

Enjoy... if you can!

A New Beginning...

Coming Soon

A Doll's Realm: Revisited

"Ha, ha, ha! No really, please stop... you're flattering me!" Monica was indeed flattered, and more than a little bit pleased that her friends were noticing how shapely her legs had become, and in so little time!

Had it really been three weeks since she lost her purse at the mall? It was like they appeared out of nowhere, so friendly and kind. They looked everywhere together, but spent more of their time laughing and shopping than actually searching. The girls were so helpful, they insisted on paying for everything, including hours and hours at the beauty salon. By the end of the day, she could hardly recognize herself – she was gorgeous!

"Really though, it's all those fabulous shoes that you bought me," Monica laughed, "I never used to wear heels, but now I can't seem to stop!"  It was true. She tried going lower, just as a lark, but quickly discovered that her feet would no longer bend, not even an inch. "Well, no more flats for me," she giggled merrily to herself, as she cleared some more room on her plate.

The truth was, her life was a mess before she met the two girls. They taught her so many things, like how to always look pretty and listen with a smile. She admired their glamour and sophistication, and wanted to be like them in every way imaginable.

"Please... have... some... more... cake..." offered her very good friend Sandra, sitting pert and attentive as always.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly... well, maybe just one little piece!" Mmmm, it tasted so good! Monica greedily topped the sugary piece with loads of whipped cream. It seemed like she never stopped eating when she was out with the girls, but the pounds just kept falling off.  She shoveled forkload after forkloard into her mouth. "Mmph, aren't you going to have any?"

"We're... not... hungry..." said Barbara, in her adorable motionless way.

"Well then, more for me!" Monica laughed between mouthfuls, and eagerly grabbed another two pieces. Strange, she never really noticed this before, but Sandra and Barbara never ate a single bite, and yet their kitchen was always stocked with every treat imaginable.

"Is... something... wrong?" asked Sandra, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"No, I was just, uh... just admiring your beautiful kitchen!" What was wrong with her? Barbara and Sandra were nothing but gracious and kind. She would do anything for them, anything at all. Monica forced her lips into a perfect smile.

"You... are... coming... along... very... nicely..." observed Barbara, her own perfect smile not wavering in the slightest.

"Why thank you, I... I…" Monica giggled, feeling dizzy. The room, it was made completely of plastic. How come she never noticed this before? The table and chairs, the oven and fridge... everything! It was as though a veil had been lifted.

"You... are... finally... ready..." informed Sandra. At least, she thought it was Sandra, because she suddenly realized that neither of their mouths were capable of movement.

Th-this was impossible. She wanted to close her eyes, to shut everything out, but she couldn't... her eyelids would not blink! What was wrong with her? It was then that she noticed the cake, half-eaten on her plate: it was nothing more than Styrofoam and pieces of sponge!

"Now... you... see... the... truth..." said the two dolls in unison, their hard plastic features now fully apparent.

Monica wanted to gag, but all that came out was a stifled giggle, her big happy smile refusing to budge. She struggled to think, and it occurred to her that she had no idea where she was or how she got here. The past three weeks were really just a blur.

"Remove... all... your... clothes..." instructed Barbara, motioning her to rise.

"No, I don't want to..." she stammered, rising to her feet. It was the oddest sensation. Her legs remained straight and elbows bent, no matter how she tried to move them. Somehow, she managed to strip herself naked. “Why are you d-doing this to me?”

"Tell... us... what... you... want..." implored Barbara, her cold blue eyes playfully gleaming.

"I want to be..." she tried to force the words from rising in her throat, to no avail, "I want to be... a doll... like you.”

Barbara shivered with delight. That was exactly what she needed to hear.

Monica watched with revulsion as Barbara started writhe, her features changing, like she was becoming an entirely different person, yet eerily familiar. She stripped out of her own clothes and grabbed Monica’s from the floor.

"What are... you... looking at…" growled the creature, "go fetch... my purse!"

"Anything... you... say..." replied the doll, spinning on her heels. It was like she was moving on autopilot, because she knew exactly where to go looking for her long lost purse. She found it in a closet, along with some of the strangest clothes she had ever encountered.

"Why, thank you very much," said the triumphant woman, accepting her prize. She could barely contain her glee as she rummaged through its contents, scanning each item and absorbing new memories. "I am now Monica," she said with an air of authority, "and your name is Barbie."

"My... name... is... Barbie... " repeated the doll, knowing it was true. Her glassy wide eyes sparkled with delight. For just a brief moment, her body seemed unfamiliar, but then she felt perfectly natural with her silky blonde hair and outrageous proportions.

Monica smiled: not much longer my love, she gazed towards Sandra, until you are with me again. The world would not see what is coming. She unlocked her new phone and dialled a number from memory. “David, it’s Monica… can you come pick me up? I want you to meet my new friends.”