Forgive me for posting this. It doesn’t have anything to do with transformation. But it’s my blog and I want to share with all of you.
My dear panda cat friend, Roli Poli, had to be put to sleep today. Last August, he was diagnosed with diabetes. The last two days, he had become lethargic and wasn’t eating. I took him into the vet today, and they found that his diabetes had evolved into another kind that would eventually cause damage to both the liver and the kidneys. A treatment would’ve involved injecting him with glucose 12 times a day. He would’ve had to have gone to an animal hospital and the treatment would’ve been over $1,000 — and it still might not have worked. And one way or another, there would’ve been a lot of suffering.
Roli (and his older brother, Clayton, who is still with me and in apparent good health) joined me on November 13, 2008. Cats are supposed to be curious, and that was Roli Poli through and through. He had to explore every inch of my trailer several times over. Many times, he made his way to the top of the entertainment center, a place where he liked to survey his surroundings and nap. His favorite toys were milk jug rings, Every now and then, he and Clayton liked to go outside. I’d go with them to make sure they didn’t wander too far away. Their favorite thing outside was to go under the other trailers near mine.
The two of them got along remarkably well. They’d have their occasional wrestling matches, but it also was not unusual to find them curled up against each on a chair or in their cat bed, grooming each other and sharing naps.
I only had Roli Poli for 11 years, the shortest I’ve had any cat that passed because of natural causes. (I once had one cat that lived to be 20.) And, to me, one of the rules of life is that, no matter how long you have any pet, it isn’t long enough.
Right now, Clayton is stretched out in from of my monitor. I don’t think he’s missed Roli yet. I don’t look forward to the time when he will realize he’s gone.
In two weeks, Roli will be cremated and his ashes put into an urn. He will spend his years with me for however many I have left myself.
You were a good boy, Roli Poli. I’ll miss you.
God bless you all, and, if you have a pet or pets, give them a hug.
I had a comment about the entry “My first TF fantasy.” The person commenting said that I was “kinda brave to do that with someone I knew.” (In this entry, I talked about imagining my Third Grade teacher being hypnotized into stripping down to her black-lace skivvies and behaving like a dog.)
I have never really thought about it before. I started out imagining this teacher undergoing a mental transformation. Over the years, I’ve imagined some of my more attractive teachers, some of my female classmates, my therapist (the only one I’ve ever talked about this with), friends’ moms, sisters, and other females I’ve known personally being transformed somehow or other.
For a long time, I fantasized about female celebrities undergoing transformations. When I was between grades seven and eight, a friend teased me about my always watching the NBC news break that followed The Match Game, saying I must have a crush on Nancy Dickerson, one of the few female newscasters of the time. I didn’t say anything to him, but I realized I did find her attractive. Knowing that she was a reporter, combined with Lois Lane’s stories where she would occasionally be transformed, and I started to imagine newswomen being transformed, many times on camera.
But I was alway willing to look at a woman, maybe one I knew, maybe not, and imagine her changing in some way. I wouldn’t tell them about it, but I did it a lot. I dated a lovely African-American woman for years, and I told her of my fantasy. But, though she tried to indulge me with a little role-playing, she never got my fantasy quite right.
I also liked to imagine adding fantasy to TV shows that didn’t have it. One of my favorites was imaging Ann Marie, Marlo Thomas’ character on That Girl, crossing over to Bewitched. My fantasy with her was that Darrin needed something like a baby or an animal for an ad campaign and Tabitha, trying to help her father, changed Ann into whatever was needed. (I can also remember a dream in which Ann was slowly turning into a donkey. I don’t remember much about it, save for Ann growing a tail and long ears.)
Another I liked to imagine was the original One Day at a Time with another Ann, Bonnie Franklin’s Ann Romano. In these fantasies, Ann’s ad agency was competing with McMann & Tate, Darrin’s agency. Serena shows up to help “Darwin” and transforms Ann and her daughters into different things.
For a few months, not too long ago, I was exchanging e-mails with someone who liked to fantasize about his wife being transformed. I wrote a few original stories about that for him, and he loved them. But I haven’t heard from him for a couple of months now, and, when I try to e-mail him, I get a return e-mail saying there was a “Permanent Error.” I’m worried his wife found out about his fantasies and, among other things, made him cancel the e-mail account.
Anyway, to those reading this, I’d like to ask who your earliest transformation fantasies were about. (I know a lot of metamorphilics mainly like to imagine themselves transforming into cats, dog, horses, whatever. If that’s your situation, fine, but this post won’t do much for you.) Did you just make up someone to be transformed? Or did you fantasize about someone you knew? Please share. Change the names to protect the innocents, but, please share.
Two days ago, I got a response to an invitation to look at this blog. The response was to not use the other dARTist’s site to “advertise” for “lewd” material as the other dARTist was trying to keep things rated PG-13.
This took me by surprise. As anyone who has ever looked over postings in this blog knows, I have some photos and art in here of women who are nude. But lewd? I’ve always been of the opinion that nudity is not automatically porn. I’ve felt my postings here aren’t porn but erotica. There is a difference.
I have a lot of stuff that might be considered R-rated. But I never post anything I think of as obscene. Over the last two – three decades I found myself no longer following a good number of men’s magazines I used to enjoy. I did so because they seemed to intent on transitioning from men’s magazines to gynecologists’ textbooks, something I’m not into. And I don’t ask for art or photos such as that.
I guess what I’m asking is, should I remove the more adult photos or art from the blog? Please, what followers I have, let me know. Do the photos upset or offend anyone? I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable visiting my blog?
I can remember the first time I fantasized about transforming someone. I was in Third Grade, which would’ve been about 1961 – 1962. (Yeah, I’m THAT old!) I had been reading in an encyclopedia or somewhere about hypnotism. And there was a paragraph about how someone could be made to believe they were a dog. The description told about the subject getting on all fours, maybe they’d be panting, maybe they could even be made to think that they were infested with fleas.
The article mentioned what I now know to be post-hypnotic suggestion. With that, you could hypnotize someone so that, upon hearing a certain sound or word, they would instantly fall under a hypnotic spell and act as you wanted them to act.
At about the same time, my brother, who was seven years older than I was, began bringing into the house a magazine called Playboy. While I, of course, noticed the women who were wearing nothing at all, there was one photo in particular that I noticed of a woman in her underthings, but they were a different kind of underthing than I was familiar with. My family got the Sears catalogs, and those had pictures of women in girdles. They seemed to go from over the belly to mid-thigh, like a pair of very tight white shorts, to go with their white bra, maybe a slip.
But the woman in the photo in Playboy was wearing a black top and panties, no girdle. There was a kind of nice pattern in these. Plus, she had some sort of straps on her thighs that were holding up her stockings.
Not long after I read about hypnosis and saw the photo in Playboy, I was in school, and I started to notice my teacher. It’s been a long time since I even saw my school yearbook for that time. But I recall the teacher being reasonably pretty, maybe a few wrinkles on her face, but nice to look at, with reddish-brown hair.
When the bell rang to let us know that it was time for classes to begin, I began to imagine my teacher, when the bell rang, suddenly throwing off her dress, getting on her hands and knees on the floor, and barking like a dog. She didn’t take off all of her clothes. She was dressed in the same set of bra, panties, and nylons like the woman in the photo in Playboy.
Or, maybe, what set her off was the bell for lunch. Again, she mentally turned dog and stripped down to her undies. And I would bring her a can of dog food, or maybe a bowl of dry food that she would happily wolf down.
But then, the bell to end lunch hour would ring. Her expression on her face would change, and, suddenly, she’d be herself again. She might still be eating. But she’d realize she was not dressed as a teacher should be dressed in front of her students. Or, maybe the bell would signal her to perform tricks, perhaps beg for a doggie treat.
I learned to end those fantasies very quickly or it could lead to great embarrassment for myself in class. But the fantasies would follow me home, and, a couple of times, cause some very nice dreams.
I had seen stories on television where someone is transformed in some way or other. And, of course, there were comic book stories. At the time, there were some Casper and Wendy stories I really liked.
But this was the first time my imagination led to some fantasies that I would come to appreciate more in the years to come. And, I suspect, the same would happen (maybe in different ways) for others who became aware of their fantasies.
I just had someone read “The Transformation Fetish” who left this comment:
transgender people aren’t a fetish are you out of your mind
No, I’m as sane as anyone doing a blog about transformation can be.
And I recognize that there are many people for whom transgender is not a fetish but a way of life. If you’re one of them, good for you!
But, I’ve also learned over the years that there are people who like to fantasize about TG, but aren’t interested in actually changing genders themselves. (Similarly, I’ve also read there are transvestites who are not gay. They’re men who like the feel of women’s clothing, but they like to experience it as men.)
There is a lot of fiction out there written by these people. And a lot of it is, let’s face it, spooge. The average story of this kind goes like this:
A big, dumb jock, usually a bully, picks on any guy he thinks doesn’t live up to the jock’s standard of manhood. And he just barely has any respect for women.
Then, he does something like pick on the husband or a brother or whatever of a woman. The woman has magical powers. And she turns the jock female. This may happen to him in the shower by the men’s locker room. He runs to his locker to get dressed, and finds all of his clothes have turned into lacy, frilly, “sissy” things. Some of his fellow jocks hit on him, and he starts to dress in sexy things to please them. Eventually he marries and moves in with one of them, his IQ drops even lower, he truly becomes an out and out bimbo, and he settles down to be a good little housewife and mother!
That’s a fetish, turning a man into a woman against his will and making him be treated as he has always thought a woman should be treated.
(Somewhere, I’ve got a story I was working on about a man, an aspiring comics artist, who is on his way to a comic book show. Along the way, he makes a wish to be the most noticed artist there. The wish comes true and, first day of the show, he wakes up to discover that he has not only turned into woman, he has become a Bill Ward drawing come to life! I ran into a block with it, but I had several people compliment me on it and tell me it did not follow the path of similar such stories. And they want to see me finish it. If I can find the draft so far, I may do so.)
Now, what is NOT a fetish is someone who feels they were born in a body that’s the wrong gender for them. They are the other sex and they want to be that gender physically. Not all of them can afford the operation, and some don’t want to go through with it. But some of them will have it done. One of the best examples these days is Nicole Maines, who plays Nia Nal on Supergirl, billed as the first transgender super-heroine on television. She is a wonderful character and I look forward to seeing more of her.
So, sometimes, probably most of the time, transgender is not part of the transformation fetish. But, sometimes, it is.
It began in 1987, when I decided to create a new Supergirl.
The previous Supergirl, the classic Supergirl, Linda Lee Danvers/Kara Zor-El, had been killed off in 1985 in the maxi-series Crisis on Infinite Earths. Her death contributed to a severe depression that eventually cost me the best job I’ve ever had, Staff Editor at Comics Buyer’s Guide.
At the same time, I was a member of Interlac, an APA (ask your grand-parents, kids) devoted to the Legion of Super-Heroes. I had a great fondness for The Legion because I had designed the costume that Saturn Girl wore in the 1970s.
In Interlac, there were great lamentations when Supergirl was killed off. And anger. I learned that Interlac was composed mostly of old-fart comic book fans who didn’t like anything changed from when they were kids reading comic books. Personally, I mourned Supergirl, but, eventually, I did move on.
And then, knowing that DC would want to hang on to the name for trademark purposes, I decided to try my hand at creating a new Supergirl. Because, among other things, I knew it would tick off a lot of my fellow Interlac members, which was always fun.
When I started the project, I knew one thing I wanted to do was I was make a Supergirl who was an actual girl, not a woman. When Kara Zor-El first arrived on Earth, she was definitely a girl. But, by the 1970s, when she had graduated college, she was a woman.
But then, the metamorphiliac in me had an idea. I would make my heroine age-regressed. She would be Shazam! in reverse: A 25-year-old woman who became a 12-year-old super-heroine. I wrote up her backstory for her and sent it to DC. I got a very nice letter from Dick Giordano informing me that John Byrne had dibs on creating a new Supergirl.
I had done too much work on her to just toss her aside. I came up with more of her story. Her other self, Marcy Martin, did data processing. She had younger sister who was attending college, which would complicate the age change more. Marcy’s job kept a roof over both of their heads. And Marcy’s story would be more to prove to the world who she really was, so she wouldn’t lose everything she had to get by growing up. There would be no super-villains. Marcy/Skye would be the only fantastic element in the story.
Finally, I had a name for her. She would give off a coruscating aura whenever she used her powers, especially when she was flying. And that led to her heroic name, Skye Sparkler.
I wrote a couple of scripts for her, but something wasn’t quite right. I came to realize I didn’t want to sell her to DC or Marvel or any comics company. I wanted to keep her for myself.
I did some work to better understand who Skye was. I role-played her in a friend’s Champions campaign. I even ran her in a Champions game at GEN Con and took the prize for best character. And, she survived the Champions campaign I ran her in until I had to retire her because she had become too powerful for the villains the other players had to face. (I also made time in a super-hero RPG part of Skye’s origin.)
Then I was in a bookstore when I spotted something in the Writer’s section. A book called How to Write a Damn Good Novel by James N. Frey.
I had checked out and purchased books on writing before. I even subscribed to Writer’s Digest for a few years. I had written some short stories. But I had never gotten anywhere trying to do a complete book. That changed with Frey. I can’t recommend this book enough to any future writers. What he had to say about getting to know your characters, being able to state a book’s premise (the most important thing to Frey), how to make the building blocks of a novel before you start to actually write it, these were all vital to writing the book.
I started writing on April 20, 1994. And how I got it written was a very simple technique. I wrote some of the book every day. Even if it was just a paragraph or a sentence, I wrote something. I took great chunks out of my personal life to give life to Skye and those around her. And, if I went to a movie or watched something on TV, there was the most nagging voice in my head asking why I wasn’t at home writing.
On April 5, 1995, I finished the rough draft.
(There was one thing shortly after that caused some rewriting, and it was far more tragic beyond that. There was a scene in my book where Skye flies off with a semi-trailer that explodes while she’s high in the sky with it. It’s later learned it was filled with a cargo of ammonium nitrate fertilizer, and I spent some time explaining why ammonium nitrate would explode. On April 19, 1995, the Oklahoma City bombing happened, and everyone then knew why ammonium nitrate would explode.)
Next came the really hard part: Trying to find an agent and/or a publisher. No one was interested in representing or publishing a book about a super-hero no one had heard of before. I shared it on disc with some friends and even one professional writer, who gave me some good tips. But I couldn’t get it published.
Then, in Writer’s Digest, I saw an ad for Xlibris, a print-on-demand publisher. Print-on-demand means that, as the book is ordered, copies are printeded. You pay for the book to be typeset, for copy editing, and the copyright if you want to, and then let people know the book exists. I had the money, and I decided to go with this route, with a plan to sell the book through Diamond Distributors, the main distributor of product to comic book shops.
Then two things happened.
Xlibris raised the price on the books by ten dollars. This was not as drastic as it first seemed, as I was able to find another publisher, Booksurge (now CreateSpace), which would print the books and I could set the price.
The other problem was bigger. Diamond wouldn’t carry my book. I had set a price so it would be profitable to them, but they wouldn’t even reply to my inquiries, not even when I went up to them at Chicago ComiCon. They accepted a copy of my book, but they ever called back. They pretty much have a monopoly on their business, so they don’t have to accept anything for distribution that they don’t want to distribute.
I found Cold Cuts distribution, which handled independent product, and they accepted Skye Sparkler, but the sales weren’t great. And, they’ve since gone out of business.
More recently, however, CreateSpace (which sells a lot of product through Amazon) has started turning their books into e-books through Amazon’s Kindle. I’ve set things up so people can buy the Kindle edition for five dollars, or go on Kindle Select to read it for free. I get 70% for each book sold, I’ve been doing my best to make sure people know about it, but I don’t know yet how many are actually buying it. I should be getting the first check soon.
So, that’s my effort to transform myself into an author. Maybe there won’t be a lot of sales. But I’m a life-long bachelor. I’ve never been a father. (And I’ve reached the age where it’s a moot point now.) Skye Sparkler is my child. She is what I leave behind to let at least some of the world know that I was here.
I recently got around to watching Mannequin and Mannequin Two — On the Move, two movies I had never seen before. I enjoyed them both equally, though I know most people do not like the sequel that much. They both had their stupid moments, but there were other parts I enjoyed.
Then, today, I was doing some badly needed cleaning in my room and I came across these two photos in my collection.
The woman in the first photo strikes me as both innocent and surprised. She was aware something was happening to her before the effect was fully realized. And she looks as if she’s sitting right by a door. Who or what transformed her, and why?
The second photo is pretty brazen in what it shows off. The pose strikes me as very mannequin-ish. No, we’re not seeing where parts can be disconnected. And I can’t help but notice (but still appreciate) that her bottom half is wider than the top.
And why have both women been stripped naked? Is someone working on them for a display? I hope these ladies can recover after they have been (hopefully) restored to themselves.
But the reason I purchased both of these photos is that it strikes me that the women in them have been turned into (or are about to be turned into) mannequins. The first woman seems to have been in her home when it happened. The second, I have theories, but I don’t want to share right now. I don’t want to influence anyone looking at the photos.
These are two good examples of photos inspiring fantasies in viewers, and making the viewers come up with back stories. Who turned them into mannequins, and why?
Feel free to share what you come up with. And I hope everyone enjoys the photos.