Bimbos and Tanning Salons

You know what I've realized? Tanning salons are the perfect place to find bimbos.

Let me explain. First of all, I work at a fast food restaurant across the street from a tanning salon, and thus, the people who work there come over fairly often (and order some kind of ultra-specific, contrived 'healthy' thing that one should not find naturally occurring in a fast food place, just because we give them a discount).

I've come to notice that pretty much every girl working there is more or less the same (they're the kind of people that stand out in a hamburger place, even from my perspective, and for me it's gotten to the point that 90% of customers who can't keep their fat asses out of there all just look like Jabba the Hutt), and they share their appearance with practically everyone I see go in there: bimbos.

And it actually makes sense. Tanning is one of the most indulgent cosmetic practices there is. Fancy clothes? Well, you need clothes, why not. Makeup? You can fit it into a morning routine, just like shaving, cutting your nails, and picking zits out of your nose. Hairstyling? If you want to give an evil old lady a ride into your tower at the expense of your scalp, be my guest, but otherwise you gotta get it cut anyway. But tanning? You're taking time out of your waking life to sit naked in an oven for something you could just wait a few months and get by being outside for any extended period of time? Sorry, but biiiiiiiiimmboooooooooo....

Furthermore, you aren't going to see many apparent brunettes going in there, unless you count their roots, but they don't want you to notice, and we want them to feel god about themselves so shhhhhhhh. Not only do tanners tend to go for the blonde beach bunny look, via hairspray or maybe the tanning oven just singes their hair blonde, I don't know, but also the tanning demographic tends to encompass the fair skinned, and therefore fair headed, far more than people who are melanin-inclined.

Anyway, just an observation.

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Modest Sexuality

The internet is for porn.

Grab yor dick and dubble click FOHR PORN PORN PORN!

Even in the TG enthusiasts’ little corner of the internet, it all comes back to porn. No matter the focus on gender transformations, it almost always eventually comes to revolve around sex of some sort. Though, I guess, this is a fetish, and fetishes are bred from sex, and the appeal attached to them are sexual in nature, so I suppose it’s only natural that would be the focus. As such, I would be the impractical one here, but like fuck is that going to keep me from complaining.

I’ve been wanting to write an entry about this topic for some time, because I believe this aspect, which I have come to call Modest Sexuality (after the great psychosexologist, Modest Mouse), is what distinguishes me from most other people who share my interests, and who share my internet haunts. It’s the reason why, no matter how adept I become at navigating the primal jungles of Fictionmania by fine tuning my searches and keeping a discriminating eye on story descriptions I still can’t get no satisfaction I can’t get no satisfaction ‘cause I try and I try and I try and I try I can’t get no I can’t get no!

Stones mouth: one of the most prevalent symptoms of can’t get no satisfactioning (along with Jagger Hair)

Seeing how the Olympics are currently in progress in London (or on the moon, depending on how long I take to finish up this entry and publish it), I’m going to use that as an example. Now we all know what the Olympics are for: bringing together the nations of the world in the spirit of love and unity and squeezing international nubile hotties in perfect shape into tiny volleyball shorts. Observe the aforementioned example:

For those of you whose attention hasn't drifted, I think just about everybody can agree that the beach volleyball “uniform”, being just a bikini, is the single sexiest sport uniform ever. Hell, it’s probably the only reason beach volleyball exists. The only thing that would make it sexier is if it were even skimpier! And, of course, the best uniform of all would be complete nekkedness, of course! In fact, fuck clothes! In a perfect world, every hot female would be naked at all times. And, of course, this is a universal ideal for all heterosexual men. If anybody disagrees, raise your hand so I can shoot you lest you impede our progress toward a bare-boobed world.

I am currently raising my hand, by the way. Maybe I’ll shoot myself later, once I’m done ranting.

Ever since I saw my first Olympics in 2004 at the age of 13, I acquired a profound enticement with one of the female uniforms that lasts to this day. But what? There’s nothing in the Olympics that shows more skin than the beach volleyball bikinis, and therefore, by definition, nothing could possibly be sexier!

It was the gymnastics leotards that enamored me. And even, though it shows some serious leg (and I do love me some gymnast leg), that wasn’t the only thing to which I paid attention. It was the outfit itself, the colors, the texture, the way in which it clung to the girls’ contours. Then, it hit me. In a world where so many people equate nudity to arousal, where everybody can’t get boobies and vajayjays off their minds: I have a fetish for femininity.

Unlike my sissy friends, (psych, I don't have any friends) my poison isn’t the hyper pink excessively frilly kind of stuff (although I do have a thing for sweet Lolita fashion), but rather, real femininity. The type of femininity that I’ve observed expressed. That which is common in my everyday life. And, of course, the female body is incredibly feminine too, and I’d be lying if I said I had no attraction to it, not to mention sex as a woman must be a very feminine experience. Honestly, though, with the nigh-exclusive focus on it, I think it’s a little old.

Okay, exercise 2: compare these two schoolgirl outfits. Which one would everybody in the world, apart from me, find more attractive? The skimpy one or the frumpy one?

As for me, the outfit on the left offers me just about no sexual attraction. It's too skimpy, so much so that it's comical.It just looks stupid to me. The one on the right, though, that's something I would actually see. Something a real schoolgirl would wear, and that can get my mind running.

 Now don’t get me wrong, I like to indulge myself sometimes. I’m not above fantasizing about being a harem slave girl or a French maid in a ridiculous costume forced to serve, but my primary appetite is just being a normal female. Albeit without the identity death or tainted memories, and while maintaining the nonconsent factor. The kind of girls I dream about being are the ones I see in my everyday life.

Boring? To me, even though these archetypes are commonplace, the actual existence of them unleashes a heavy realism quality onto my fantasies, not to mention the behind-the-scenes enigmas of femininity, and the mystery of what it would be like if it was mine. I think what draws me to it most strongly is external opinion. Not only are you now this girl, but people now see you as her, the same way you saw girls of the like before. It’s even better if the transformee once had a condescending attitude towards the girls whose ranks he’s been forced to join, like airheaded bimbos or teenyboppers.

There’s an amazing scene in The Katy Nightmare where Tony-now-Katy is being driven towards his new school. On the way, he sees some schoolgirls walking along the street, and he just about goes crazy when he realizes he’s now just one of them.

Gooble gobble gooble gobble!

I really don’t know how to explain this, actually, but here’s another example…

In a story I’m pretty sure was called Compulsions (which I can’t seem to find again… did it get deleted?), a man becomes a woman via punishment from his wife/girlfriend/yadda yadda yadda. As a result of this ‘curse’, he’s afflicted by certain compulsions to do feminine things like… and every time he gives in, a supernatural change is wrought over his life, making him more feminine.

Now, I started getting really into this story after a while (the age regression aspect may have had something to do with it, although the failure to notice the transformations detracted from it), as he slowly became a secretary for the company for which he was once a manager, also becoming slightly airheaded and bubbly as an added bonus. With this, her moods started shifting, things like her taste in music becoming typical for the kind of girl she was changing into. That was amazing. That’s the kind of thing I’m looking for. Someone who formerly listened to classical or something now being compelled to listen to the teeny-bopper music synonymous with airheads everywhere?

Or somewhere in between?

And then… the compulsions kept coming. One magical shift later, and she was ducking into her boss’s office every now and then to give him a blowjob or something. Another magical blink and she was the office slut. More than that, a wanton whore who strips naked without a moment’s hesitation amidst a crowd of horny men. I know it’s just a fantasy, but nobody fucking does that. It ruined the story for me.

Okay, okay, I’m aware that I’m in the minority here. This is a fetish. A sexual fantasy, so there’s nothing wrong with taking it to whatever extreme you like. You like imagining being a horny, nymphomaniacal superslut who can’t think about anything other than sex? More power to you. You like fantasizing about crossdressing in frilly sissy dresses? Have fun. I like detailed representations of all aspects of life as a girl. More power to me. In fact, all the power to me. Red Ochre desperately wants more of this.

The Katy Nightmare

I hate this story. Only because it kept me up until 5 am.

The same week I discovered the Cheerleader Transformation Machine ultimately ended up being a lucky week so far as age regression goes, because in my internet gallivanting (I’m tired of saying “stumbling”. This makes me sound more manly), I came across a story by the name of “The Katy Nightmare”.

Now right away, this differs from the Cheerleader TF Machine in one way. The name. With a title like “The Katy Nightmare”, it brings to mind the inane, grammatical mutilation-ridden fantasy ramblings of someone far too young to be on this site. But, as the categories at least seemed promising, I clicked it, half expecting some piece of shit about a thirteen year old boy being forced into diapers by his mom or something like that.

OH GOD I WAS WRONG HOW WRONG I WAS!!

Okay, so. There’s this guy named Tony Bradley. Currently 21, he’s just getting used to all the privileges of adulthood: being in charge of his own time, legally drinking alcohol, partying all night, smoking weed, soliciting prostitution (I don’t know much about England, but I’m assuming all this is legal there). Then one night, this young teenage girl shows up at his door.

I need about tree fitty.

Katy Campbell, recently turned 14, shows up inexplicably to drop off a few bags containing her school uniforms. Tony, not being a creepy perverted Otaku, does not immediately run up to his room to fap to them, but instead, rather confused about what he’s supposed to do, just drops them off in his closet, where they sit, watching… waiting…

I hope this isn't going to end up like The Secret Stash

But no, the clothes turn out to just be normal clothes. Which I probably should have expected, but in this line of media, you can never be sure.

Over the next few days, Tony awaits the return of Katy, whom he assumes will show up eventually to pick her uniforms up (presumably, when she comes down from whatever high she was on). No sign of her, and school is supposed to be back in session, so unless she decided to make a daring fashion statement and go to school nekked (This is Europe, after all. And don’t picture that, you perv) she would have needed them by now. So it doesn’t seem likely she’ll be coming back anytime soon.

But it seems some shit is going down when Tony finds his bed has been replaced with a small, pink one, and no one seems to acknowledge this. Even if their memories have somehow been altered, no one even seems to find it strange that a 21-year-old man has a bed more befitting of a teenage girl, seeing how nobody ever muses “You know? I just realized how gay you are” or anything of the like.

He eventually gets in contact with Katy, who finally drops the bomb on him.

 

She’s sick of being a teenage girl. She wants all the privileges of adulthood and the respect of manhood, so guess what Tony? Katy’s going to be you, and you’re going to be Katy. A teenage girl. A school kid again, but this time of the opposite gender. Kaboom.

Horrified, but constantly clinging to denial, Tony goes on to experience the gradual usurpation of his adulthood allowances by his parents, all the while awaiting actually becoming Katy, and being forced back to school as her.

So up until this point, I’ve kept my actual opinions of the story rather vague and flip-floppy at times, mostly so I can be a jackass and keep you frantically guessing until the end (especially Mikkelm, if he happens to be reading this), so bluntly, what do I really think of The Katy Nightmare?

Pros:

This can be summed up in one word.

THISISONEOFTHEGREATESTSTORIESONFICTIONMANIANOBULLSHIT!         

This is… wow… where do I even start?

The is the prime example of the preteen/early teen age category in AR stories. That’s with a “the”, not an “a”. This is the example every other inferior author should hold themselves to.

What makes this story so great? Well, there are two general areas of excellence here. The first is the amazingly unique and powerful way in which this story illustrates one of the most fundamental aspects of TG: The experience of being female.

It’s the subtleties that really make this story great. I have a theory that, if an author wants his or her audience to know what’s going on, simply describing the situation will do, but if he or she wants the audience to actually feel, to experience the situation by proxy, they need to describe things in unexpected ways. And that’s how Mikkelm does it. Instead of focusing exclusively on the big picture, he spends a lot of time pointing out tiny, seemingly insignificant things, which actually help build the image in one’s imagination.

The infantilizing (juvenillizing?) way in which his parents come to treat him is one example. The way Katy talks, writes, types, her diary entries? All compelling tools to create an image of this person he’s becoming. My favorites are probably the changes in part four: the pictures on the walls, the messy room, the skirt on the floor… It’s like a behind-the-scenes look at a girl’s life: something a guy really isn’t meant to see. Hell, even the gradual discovery of his new body in part four is done so much better here than anywhere else.

The second appealing factor of this story is something more personal: There are so many things in this story that fall right into place amongst my own interests, something exceedingly rare. It’s got age regression (not the ‘innocent child’ kind either), it sticks to a realistic portrayal of the new Katy’s life, the only slightly more indulgent thing it uses is a sort of clothing fascination. And… it just so happens one of my few universally applicable indulgent interests is feminine clothing: both the tactile sensation on the body, and the sociological implications of wearing it.

In fact, the areas of focus, the prose, everything seems like it was tailor-made to appeal to me, and people like me. It’s very possible Mikkelm is, in fact, myself from the future, sending a story back in time via Boson particles to help enrich my life. This doesn’t explain why my future self appears to be British, but as evidence of time travel it’s still fairly compelling (In other news, I was recently thrown out of Academia for this proposition).

I was also thrown out of my Eighth Grade science class for inappropriate use of Bunsen Burners.

Tony’s reactions were something I really liked, too. He always kept struggling, staying in denial, keeping the nonconsent aspect strong, but still played along, being smart enough not to pull a Sam Beckett and make everything awkward.

I first read this story fairly soon after the third part was released, which means I had to wait an entire TWO MONTHS AND FOURTEEN DAYS and four hours and thirty-six minutes and eight point two four nine three six eight four zero two seconds until the payoff from 111.8 kilobytes of elevating tension. You wouldn’t BELIEVE the Antarctic shower I had to take before settling in for the long wait until part 4.

They say you wouldn’t survive fifteen minutes in Antarctic waters. I think I caused global warming instead.

It’s amazing how this author builds up the tension. He managed to hold my interest viciously throughout the first three (transformation-barren) parts, and did so in a very unique way. By placing the transformation clearly on the horizon (unlike the Cheerleader TF Machine which, although having decent tension, doesn’t say or give the characters a heads up about what’s going to happen until very late in the tension-building), maintaining the knowledge that it’s creeping closer throughout the story, creates a gradual development that keeps me on the edge of my seat.

I also like how he managed to do this without defaulting to the way it’s generally done: via a gradual transformation. I don’t really like gradual change that much, partially for the same reason I didn’t like puberty (besides the fact that puberty didn’t turn me into a cute English schoolgirl). You can’t easily change from male to female without going through a very awkward half-and-half phase unless you go it all at once.

For the most part, though, I prefer faster transformations because they’re a more vivid experience. If you only change a little bit at a time over a few days or weeks, it gives you a chance to get at least somewhat used to every increment until you’re a complete girl, which totally takes the fun out of it. It’s like how robbing a bank is so much more fun than earning the money yourself.

The author claims he has never written anything before this story IF THAT’S TRUE YOU MUST BE THE REINCARNATION OF OSCAR FUCKING WILDE!

Ignoring the reviews that request the story include crossdressing.

Cons:

It’s British. That doesn’t sound like a flaw, but oh my God is this story British. You have no idea.

I know Mike Meyers isn’t really English, but he does make a damn fine stereotype.

I have no problem with Britain as long as it’s after 1812 (and last time I checked, it still is), and what I mean is something like this: I’ve read British stories on FictionMania and other places before. I’ve probably read a lot more than I realize, since they’re more or less identical to American ones. Usually the only tips which give it away are a mention of pounds instead of dollars, or some extra ‘u’s throuwn into a feuw wourds here and there.

Now, of course, this is a very subjective viewpoint, seeing how not everyone doesn’t not live in America like me, but it’s hard to nitpick this story, so I guess I’m clutching at straws here (just like Tony lawl!). Reading this story, though, made me realize how different England is from the US, in ways I had never witnessed before in all the Doctor Who and Monty Python I’ve ever seen. It surprised me and actually threw me off a few times. Here are some examples.

The word “bin” is used instead of “trash” or “garbage’’. I’d bin wondering what he was talking about, but then I realized it was obvious and I was stupid.

School uniforms. I actually knew school uniforms were worn in England, but I had minimal firsthand witness of (a TV screen displaying) it. Not many shows or movies from across the big-ass-shark-infested pond star school kids. But I did look up English school uniforms to get a feel for them, and there are tight skirts, and lots of tights. Hot. Or as the English would say… uh… I have no idea, nevermind.

Premature adulthood? From what I’ve gleaned from this tale of schoolgirlifying goodness, apparently English kids graduate from school at the age of 16? And they are considered adults at the same age? It’s kind of like the US's 18? Rhetorical question mark? I found this kind of odd, especially since, from what I know, pretty much every other industrial country uses the same kind of school system as the US: from age 6 or so to 18, grades 1 through 12. Some countries may separate their grades differently into elementary, middle, and high schools, but it usually has all the same grades in total. I guess I just wasn’t expecting this…

Speaking of elementary/middle/high schools, what does a “secondary” school encompass? Judging by Katy’s age, it would imply high school, but from what I’ve seen, I suppose I can’t quite apply my knowledge of the US school system here. Huh…

Also, if this were on any other website, I would mark it down for ruining the ending in the 17^th paragraph. But let’s face it, we all knew what would happen.

Two things that would make this story perfect in my eyes: Instead of being 14, Katy would be 11 or 12. She would also be Asian.

I’ve received confirmation that Mikkelm intends to continue this story, which fills me with excessive euphoric intoxicated joy. Seriously, the extent of this feeling cannot even technically exist on the internet as there is not emoticon that can express such an emotion, but I’ll try anyway.

Anywho MIKKELM YOU ARE A GOD AMONG MEN PLEASE WRITE MORE!