Saturday, December 31, 2011

get yourself an Zentai Doll Suit for 2012

not really an order or anything but it's inexpensive, all encompasing and very doll-ish costume you should all have.

i've not bought one for a few years as i prefer latex and i recently nabbed one for just 30$ off ebay. it was very mannequin color and well why not. for those on a tight budget thats a buck a day. i also wanted to find some fabric pens and doll joints all over it. (anyone recommend a brand?)

i bought this one here and they do other materials and styles. i skipped the entire enclosed head aspect and no gloves. i wanted to feel. also in the past the fingers were always a bit of a mess.

i also asked for a zip down bellow so they can worn much much longer. if it gets cold enough - bingo - thermal underwear :-)

sadly they weren't able to realise my idea of a small cute lock on the back of top of zip which i stil think is very hot. i'll have to get it doen one day.

so treat yourself, start off with a zentai suit in 2012!


Tuesday, December 27, 2011

so what did Santa bring you?

something linky, something shiny, something with impossible heels or a with stays to make your waist oh so teeny after the gluttony of Christmas?

(its ok if your Santa and you had to buy it yourself).

i'll ask my SL friend Shiny moniree who is even more obssessed with latex than me and actually lives the latex life i can presently aspire too. she'll have recieved some interesting rubbery gifts. check out her in world photo's on here flikr account here.

and merry christas everyone!!


a low cost water bed?

what ever happend to those? anyone try one with rubber sheets?


will i be the first to share the Xmas present?

whats an idea, a real object and also a gift? answer - something Blackice came up with before xmas which he's been giving away.

i had a press release like thing sent to major rubber bloggers and fetish magazines as i could see via the cc's. i maybe the first to share with you all and i've downloaded it definitely has some kink and fetish content. here's the links to the separete files that need to be RAR'd back togther: (716.8 MB) (716.8 MB) (716.8 MB) (402.3 MB)

i have no idea how to make them clickable and downloadable so just copy and past them into your browser.

here's what he said:

"Think of it as a dvd version of a mix tape. It comes with VLC for mac / pc and media will work on smart phones too. iPad owners can download VLC for free off the app store. Videos are 1/4 PAL and even had it upscale on giant plasma. Worked so well I was invited to another party just to play it."

You can watch as you like, however I suggest you just use the _PLAY SUPPOSE vlc playlist so you experience the structure I decided on and crafted."

oh yes its also all sourced off youtube so anyone can make something similar. its actually very good and its free so why not have a go. one not is that it may need a new sequential play list made which is in the notes due to how VLC player works.

so thanks and rubbery hugs to Blackice for over 4+hrs of cool tv programing! prefect laptop stuff for those long flights or train rides.

also i mentioned it was a gift of an idea (btw - what is this new format called 'Mix tape DVD isn't catchy enough imho). my plan is for Valentines Day i will make a dollsrealm version!!!


any readers who can speak Italian or ...

... even are based in italy?

i was looking around and then tried which is germany. all the same layout so its like the rossetta stone of online shopping. anyway i did discovere high heeled rubber rain boots! sadly the price was too much and besides they were the wrong size.

here's the listing so you can check out the other much larger photo's and how much they went for on now i heard from one distant italian friend that yes she's seen them and they were closer to 40$ and then didn't provide any more information. can i buy them online???

meanwhile rable sent me a link to the Louis Vuitton online shop thats selling their equivilant - a snip at over 1,000$. I should be able to get three pairs at that price (not) :P they can be zoomed into here to salivate over their deep glossiness.

or as i just discovered, there's a fair number of photo's via google. seems i'm not the only one who suffers from thicker than model skinny calfs.


england goes plushie mad

yes for some weird reason - possibly because they have no central heating which i heard from friends - these plushie PJ suits have become pretty popular.

here's a shot of a Christmas street vendor with her full cart of animals and wearing one herself.

we have those fleece blankette things here and they have cute animals...apparently a racon was spotted with big fluffy tail wandering around Brighton.


i've always wanted one of these

so i'm adding it too my wish list for 2012. not sure how, not sure when - but its now on the list. ;-)


Saturday, December 24, 2011

remember its about Christmas!

more blogs over xmas. honest ;-)


Thursday, December 15, 2011

a brilliant Christmas advert from the UK

advertising a pharmacy chain called 'Boots' - which don't sell actually boots which i had thought originally.


Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

yes it is sooo true....

i'm back!!!

so work has eased off, along with the other issues and expect more regular updates from now on.

starting right about now


apparently i do...

...inspire some readers out there. a couple of months ago i was exchanging emails with another dedicated latex fetishist and pointed out a shop on the UK Ebay (always check there for latex deals btw) which did rain coats of various stylings and this is the one I sent a link too.

The Latex Mackintosh
is what i spotted - waay to large with me but i like the idea. it was also to large for the person in question so was forwarded to someone else they knew and she bought it!

its not the style i'd like being the fussy latex designer i am - what i would really like is s stylised puffa coat in latex. preferably a knee length bell shaped one with the huge warm collar.

i'll post a photo when i find one; but imagine a few of these design elements all mushed into one shiny latex one. much more of a sexy european and/or italian design than the Michelin Man fat suit look.

and the best part of all - besides being utterly snugglish - is they are supposed to be supper glossy!! ;-)


such an amazing selection of images

can be found at Samantha de Savory's TG Captions with really great captions. i prefer the ones that are vague and evocative. i've even been known to rewrite a few to my own tastes.

here is one of here latest for all you sci-fi and MC fetishists. i have been corresponding and hope to do a combined project / captioned story one day soon.

go have a look and help her hit count - its the only thing that keeps us bloggers from giving it up some days.


found on Gromets Plaza recently

a lovely story by by TL - reprinted with permission.

The Puppetmaster
by Tam Lin

It was the music that woke Erica up.

The tune was halting and disjointed, like a music box winding down, but it was there, a pretty jingling melody that roused her from her slumber and let her know that everything was not all right. When she opened her eyes she stared up into darkness, and she felt hard ground under her, and her bare arms and legs were freezing cold.

She sat up. She was not in bed, not in her home, not anywhere that she recognized at all. She was in a bare, open space, like a warehouse or a storage cell. It was dark except for the flickering halo of a single light bulb. She was dressed only in her favorite powder blue nightgown, which she hugged around herself now.

Where was she? How did she get here? She saw nothing that provided a clue, and other than the distant music (echoing from somewhere in the darkness), she heard nothing either. "Hello?" she said, and was startled by how loud her voice sounded. She did not speak again. Somehow it didn't seem safe.

She stood. Cold air stung her bare legs. Her poor little feet had to walk on the cement floor with no protection. She felt exposed, so she ran to the nearest wall. This put her in the shadows, but at least there was something at her back now. The walls were cheap sheet metal, and they popped when she put pressure on them. Despite the flimsy material, she could find no weak spot, and no opening.

Erica followed the wall, reasoning that there must be a door or a window somewhere, and it must be nearby because how big could this place be? She tried very hard not to think about the fact that if she was here then someone must have brought her here, someone who might still be here, who might even be watching her now. Yes, she tried very hard not to think about those things. Just figure this out, she thought, and figure a way out. Worry about the rest later.

She walked toward the music. It was fainter now, the notes stretched out, like a recording on old tape. The light behind her was fading as she got further away, but a new one appeared in front of her, the dim flicker of a dying bulb. How big was this place, she wondered, if she could just barely see the spot she'd woken up in but still had not found an exit? She walked toward the light up ahead. Her tiny feet padded on the cold, hard floor.

What she found set against the wall looked at first like a phone booth. It was a glass case, eight feet high, sealed on all sides, with no visible door or latch. She peered inside and almost screamed. Someone was trapped in there! But she felt foolish when soon as she took a second look; it wasn't a person at all, it was a life-size puppet, a marionette of sorts. She saw the limbs hanging limply, the head tilted to one side, the dangling strings attached to the apparatus in the ceiling of the booth.

She looked closer; it was no wonder she'd been fooled at first, the puppet being so lifelike. It was the full-size facsimile of a naked woman, a beautiful woman about Erica’s age, with pale skin and bright red hair and striking green eyes. It was perfect in every detail, down the birthmark on the arm and the slightly-chewed look of the fingernails. Her nude body was sleek and petite, with small, perfect breasts crowned by rosy nipples. The face, slack and expressionless, eyes half-lidded, looked for all the world like the face of a real woman. Only the strange, artificial smoothness of the skin, the way it reflected the light like polished wood or plastic, revealed that it was a simulacrum.

That and the fact that it was hanging from wires in a glass box, of course.

Erica inspected the apparatus the puppet was housed in; there was a mechanism on the side, an enormous windup crank like the sort you find on toys. Erica realized that the music had stopped and, curious, she seized the windup key in both hands and twisted it. She was so intent on the strange device that she forgot all about finding the way out, even forgot to be frightened. She wound the key up, and then she stood back to see what happened.

The music played again, faster and with better tempo this time. It really is a music box, she thought. The lights overhead flickered and turned up brighter, and the marionette started to move. The metal arms in the booth turned and her strings became taut, and then she began to dance. Guided by the wires, the puppet spun and twirled and moved with a grace and ease that amazed Erica. It was beautiful to watch, its motions plainly mechanical but at the same time seeming so natural.

The woman (puppet, Erica reminded herself) danced until the key wound down, and then the music stopped, the light dimmed, and she hung limp and lifeless again. Erica realized she'd been holding her breath and let it all out in a whoosh. She giggled a little, and thought about winding the key up again, but then remembered she had more important things to do, like finding a way out of here.

She kept walking on through the warehouse, and soon she found more glass booths with more puppets insides. Each of them was a lifelike model of a nude woman, and each hung silent and motionless on her strings, waiting for the key to turn and allow her a few seconds of mobility, a fleeting minute to dance and sway and seem alive. Erica couldn't help but be distracted by the beautiful marionettes; so much skill and craftsmanship must have gone into making them look real. They were true works of art.

It was hard to say how long she had been walking when she came to the dead end. She'd walked the entire length of this space, from one end to the other, but found no door or window of any kind. The eleven puppets, with their lights and music boxes, were the only adornment. She looked at the ceiling but saw only blackness. There must be a way out? How on earth had she gotten in?

Erica sat cross-legged on the cold floor and hugged her nightie to herself. The cold air caused her nipples to poke out through the fabric. She looked at the puppet in the nearest box, a blond with butterfly tattoos on her wrists. Even the tattoos looked detailed enough to be the real thing, though they were stenciled onto the plastic-like flesh of the doll. The marionette's blue eyes were half-closed, her ruby red lips slightly parted, her face soulless and lifeless.

"So how did you get in here?" Erica said out loud. The puppet gave no reply. Erica laughed a little. It echoed.

She saw something now that she hadn't noticed before; there was another booth, just like the others, with a windup crank and dangling strings and apparatus inside, but the case was empty; it housed no doll. She bit her lip, thinking.

"Hmm," she said to the lifeless blond marionette. "There's one extra. You don't suppose that's for me, do you?"

The doll said nothing, but Erica heard a breathless, raspy voice just behind her:

"Yes. It is."

She didn't know whether to pass out or scream and run. She didn't have the chance to do either, as strong hands (covered in thick rubber work gloves) clapped over her mouth and pinioned her wrists behind her back. She struggled, but strong, thick arms wrapped around her and hauled her off the ground. Her naked legs and bare feet kicked, helpless, in the air.

She thrashed her head from side to side, but it was no use. Her captor held her still, and that's when she saw it; the mouth of the blond doll in the glass box twitched, and moved, and formed words, though Erica could not hear them through the thick panes of glass:



But Erica couldn't even help herself. Her kidnapper dragged her away, through the hidden tunnel entrance she had overlooked. He brought her to a room full of machinery and piled junk, and a great hot furnace that belched out steam and fire. The unseen assailant took her to the work table and, though she fought as hard as she could, strapped her to it.

He spun the table around and pushed her upright so that she could see him for the first time. He was a tall man, and muscular, dressed in a leather work apron. A gas mask covered his face, obscuring his eyes behind black lenses and disguising his voice as the dry rasp she'd heard. She tugged at the leather bonds secured to her wrists and ankles, but it was no good.

"Don't struggle," said the masked man. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Let me go!"

"But I went through so much trouble getting you here," he said. The hellish glow of the furnace reflected in the lenses of his mask.

"Let me go, you sick fuck!" she screamed.

"Careful, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap." He took off one glove, revealing a hard, calloused hand. He touched the side of her face, and she tried to bite him. He ignored her, running his hands through her curly hair.

"So beautiful," he said. "So alive. Do you like my collection, Erica? I wanted you to see it. I've worked hard on it."

Erica whimpered. "What did you do to those women?"

"I made them perfect," he said. "I made them art. But that's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."

Her pulse quickened and her throat closed up. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen so many beautiful things, but none as beautiful as you. You're going to be my masterpiece. You'll be perfect forever." He was nodding his head up and down, in time to some unheard tune. Erica gaped, eyes wide.

"No!" she said. "No, you can't, you can't!"

But he wasn't listening. He wheeled a table over, and pulled the cloth off of it, revealing an assortment of strange tools; things that cut and things that drilled, and things attached to tubes and clamps, and bottles full of strange fluids; oils and varnishes and polishes.

"I've practiced for this my entire life," said the man, picking up something that was sharp and barbed. "All I needed was the perfect subject. And then I found you. I found you, Erica; my muse, my angel, my diamond in the rough."

Erica started to cry. The furnace fires burned hotter and brighter.

"It'll be okay," he said, stepping up to her, tools in each hand. She heard the whine of the surgical saw. "It'll be okay."


It was the music that woke Erica up.

She tried to open her eyes. The light was dim, but there was a glare of some kind. It was hard to see anything. She heard the music though, each perfect, beautiful note. It seemed to flow through her, touching her body all over. She wanted to dance to that song, that perfect beautiful song, forever. And then she realized that she was dancing.

She saw her arms and legs moving, and saw the gleam of the silver wires. She felt herself swaying back and forth, and realized that the glare she saw came off of the glass around her. She was in the box.

Somehow, this didn't frighten her. It didn't even particularly bother her. Maybe it was the music that comforted her, that music that seemed so much a part of her now. And it really was a part of her, she realized, because it was part of the machine, and now so was she. And as the key turned and the clockwork slowly unwound, she danced, and danced, and danced, her naked body, now perfect and preserved, dancing with the subtlety and grace of an angel.

Through the glass she made out the figure of the man in the mask, watching her. He had his stiff, naked cock in his hand, and he was stroking it. Before she would have been repulsed by this, but now it seemed right, somehow. Yes, it was right that her owner should take pleasure in watching her. It was good to please someone; to be beautiful; to be admired and loved.

The song was ending and she felt herself winding down. The wires stopped moving, and so did she. The lights flickered and went out-

And came on again. And she was dancing again, and her owner was watching her still, but something seemed different now. He had moved, faster than she could see, and his clothes had changed. Time had gone by, she realized, days probably, and she hadn't been conscious of it. She was aware only of what went on when the crank was wound, and the music was playing, and she was turned on. And that's when she realized that she really was going to dance to this song forever, because for her there would never be anything else.

Around her, one by one, the other girls in the other boxes came to life. They all danced together, and the Puppetmaster watched them, all of them, his masterpieces, complete at last. And he smiled.