puffy-tail scrooges

I'm just down from the roof, finished with the annual taking down of the xmas lights (they were purple leds this year).  For the second year in a row I have discovered that a Scrooge -- a SCROOGE -- of a Squirrel has chewed through one of my light strings rendering it useless.  All I can do is denude the dead string for a lifetime's worth of replacement bulbs for the good one.  Squirrels hate christmas!  You heard it here first.

Winter Wonderland (With Splintered Trees)

So!  Had myself a white christmas.  How about that?  There have only been a few here in my memory.  It's seldom quite cold enough for that.  Late xmas evening it began to rain -- freezing rain.  Anyone whose been in an ice storm knows how harrowing that can be.  It's not the worst I've been in, that was about ten years ago, but you sit there watching the ice encapsulate every tree branch, every leaf, every blade of grass inside a frozen tomb.  Then it turned into a blizzard which lasted all night long. 

Snow is fine, but ice is heavy.  Branches break and trees fall.  You could hear transformers blowing throughout the city like distant cannon fire, one neighborhood going dark after another, all the while waiting for your turn.  You know when it goes, with the streets icy and so many outages, it could take days or a week for the power to come back on.  Nearly the entire city of Little Rock was made powerless on Christmas night.

Somehow my neighborhood was one of the few that was spared.  So I've been cozy warm and with miraculous electric light throughout it all.  I did slide on snow driving my sister to the airport and scratched up my fenders, and some of bushes have been uprooted, but I have little to complain about.  Many others had it far worse.  And now it's all slowly melting away.

But there is beauty to be found in the ice.  The following morning I went outside to see the rising sun shining through the icy branches, a forest glittering as if made of crystal glass, all white and silver.  Not bad!

Happy Merries All For You

This is your friendly dollmother here, wishing all and sundry and a happy xmas.  And it has to happy.  The creepy vintage cats said so.

Chastity!

This year is a black tree with red lights, but half the string went out.  Alas!  Alas.  But at least the gingerbread eggnog is tasty.  Speaking of holiday treats... you really have to watch your diet while in unremovable steel garments. 

Pumpkin Slave - A Transformation

I started these around Halloween.  They took longer than I expected, so now here's a sprinkle of Halloween in your Christmas.  Well, there's nothing wrong with that.

This young lady has discovered why it's not wise to piss off the fairies of the pumpkin patch under a full moon.

After having wandered away from the party cabin, Jennifer has been roaming the woods, lost, for hours.  She came across a huge abandoned pumpkin patch gone wild and unruly.  In her frustration, she stomped and shattered several pumpkins, unknowingly raising the ire of the guardian fairies.  How could she know?  She didn't even know fairies existed.  But you and I know.  We also know that fairies are prone to delivering disproportional punishments when angry, and they decided she should spend the rest of her now unnaturally long life tending the pumpkin patch.

The poor thing, Jennifer fights against her transformation, frantically feeling the unyielding waxy skin of her new head, her permanently smiling expression carved into its surface, forever happy despite her terror.  The cuttings are prepetually moist with beads of dew, as if freshly carved.  She can still see, somehow, through empty glowing eye holes, lit from within from an unseen source.  Understandably distracted by her head, she has yet to notice the tendrils of pumpkin vines sprouting elsewhere on her body.

Now utterly exhausted, limp from struggling uselessly against her transformation, Jennifer lies slumped against an ruined fence.  The transformation is nearly complete, and vines growing from her flesh have wound around her arms and legs.  They will move her like a helpless marionette, forcing her to perform her new tasks of tending the patch, at least until she gets into the flow of things. 

She explores her newly bountiful breasts; though still soft and supple, they have taken on the grooved texture of pumpkins.  Her nipples, however, have turned into tough, woody pumpkin stems.  As she twists one experimentally, overwhelming will-destroying pleasure flows through her and she discovers her punishment isn't all bad.  With free access to bliss like this, she might soon lose all resistance for her role as a pumpkin slave.  She might not even remember her name, or that she was ever human to begin with.

Stretched open wide from the tight tug of the vines, the pleasure triggers slimy strings and gobs of seed-laden pumpkin pulp begin to spill from within her transformed and fruitful womb.  Later as she is walking the field, going about her tasks, the pulp will dribble down her thighs and onto the ground, leaving seeds wherever she goes and giving life to new pumpkins.  I think she will be quite happy with her new life.  Perhaps the fairies weren't so cruel after all!

Magically hidden to human eyes, she might never be seen again.  Unless, of course, you happen upon the right wild pumpkin patch under a full moon.

Story Time - The Acrobat

There's something wintery in the air.  A certain festive jingle in the music in the grocery stores.  Are those xmas lights I see?  Well, I'll be!  It looks like it's that time of year.  You know, when I was a child I would ask for so much for xmas, more than I could or would possibly receive.  I'd go through the toy section of the JC Penny's "Wish Book" catalog, circling item after coveted item and carefully listing them on a sheet of notebook paper.  But when you grow up and have the money to buy this or that, you don't really want much for xmas.  It becomes a struggle to think of something to ask for.  And my sister?  This year she wants a laundry bag.  Well... I guess I can handle that.

To accompany the festivities, I'd say a warm and fuzzy story is called for!  Here is another of my friend soubrette's short stories set in my slave role generator mansion.  It's called The Acrobat.

The Acrobat by soubrette

    She came for me again today, this morning. It was nearing noon, and I was making myself busy investigating the various stations in the dungeon, trying new positions on the furniture and slings. The place was empty except for me and a human chair off in the corner. A somewhat boring human chair that didn’t seem to be interested in talking to a lowly naked pain slut, I might add. The furniture here can be so snooty sometimes. Anyway, I was maneuvering myself into a sort of spread-eagle hand-stand in an attempt to loop my legs around the straps of a sling and swing in it upside down. You know, for fun. I had just managed to wrap my right leg around one strap and support enough of myself to try and do the same with the left leg when I heard the dungeon door click open.

Jay's Boots, Bondage, and Smiles

It's Thanksgiving!  A time for turkeys.  Stuffing!  Mashed potatoes!  Huge messes in the kitchen?  Well, that's to be expected.  But, along with being a time for trussed turkeys, it's a time for trussed damsels.  So gather together and give thanks for... high heels.

Evil Dolly's Featured Fetish Artist of the Day:  Jay

I'm afraid I've been able to discover next to nothing about Jay.  That's often the way it goes with many nearly anonymous fetish artists, especially from the 50s.  They publish a few works under a pen name and then just disappear.  The most I know about Jay is that he had a few series distributed through Klaw's Nutrix company in the mid-1950s.  He produced at least two series published by Nutrix:  Anything Goes Girls Club and Fashion in Boots and Bondage.

It doesn't appear Jay was a dedicated illustrator, as were some of his peers.  His works of pencil and ink show plenty of flaws in anatomy, along with some shortcuts (hiding hands and faces, which are some of the more difficult things to draw).  But he wasn't without talent.  And he clearly focused lots of attention on what would seem to be his own personal fetishes.

Chief among those fetishes are women in hobbling boots and shoes of all sorts.  Stiletto heels and ballet boots laced up on long legs.  Uncomfortable footwear of Jay's own invention are locked onto feet.  The girls' arms are often doubled up and bound tightly into constrictive clothing, rendering them armless and helpless.  And yet most of them are smiling big happy smiles, as if they couldn't be more thrilled.  And why shouldn't they be?

But here's where it gets a little confusing.  There's another series that I've also seen attributed to Jay.  The art style is noticably different in some ways.  We could be dealing with a case of two Jays, or this second style might have been erroneously attributed to Jay at some point -- the Internet has been known to be wrong. 

Gone are the cheesecake poses and many of the fine details.  The waists are smaller, the legs are thicker, and the style just seems different.  This series mostly features women (or tg's) sealed inside of stitched-up doll suits and masks, with perky padded breasts, used as servants and ponies.  Well, I approve of that, as one might imagine.  The world needs more of that kind of thing, I say.

That last one with the bride is my favorite.  Bondage brides are beautiful!  And she looks so happy.  Who cares if it's forced joy?  But back to the point.  It almost looks like another artist.  But there are little things like this:

Compare the face of the girl in the left panel of this Boots and Bondage chapter and that of the smiling cowgirl with her sturdy-legged pony in the dollish series.  The smile, the jawline, they're virtually identical.  So perhaps it is the same artist, after all.  If someone knows better, please correct me. 

I don't know of any current reprints of Jay's work.  However, I did see that those first two series (along with lots of other Nutrix publications) are available in ebook form from this location:  http://www.30sg.com/.  However, I can't personally confirm the veracity or quality of the conversions from this vendor, I simply found them during a search, so I invite you to make your own judgements.

UPDATE: According to bondage and fetish artist Osvaldo A. Greco, "the second series of drawings are not by Jay but made by a guy called B&G, a customer of Klaw with a fetish of dolls."  So it would seem that Mr. B&G used Jay's existing work as a reference, possibly even tracing the faces.  Can't say as I blame him, I hate drawing faces, too.