One Fall Afternoon

Update: I'm no longer using the "Continue reading..." links since Blogger allows me to flag the whole blog as adults-only. June 3, 2008

Update: Reuploaded the third image in this series, which I didn't know had a broken link. March 12, 2008.

I guess if you were to ask me what my ideal date would be, it wouldn't be very far from this. A walk in Central Park on a crisp fall afternoon. We approach a lake and I playfully suggest she take me on a boat ride. She paddles us out to the middle of the lake, where she grins and hauls in the paddles, and we proceed to drift. We share stories and laugh, we talk about our mutual friends, the ones that set us up on this date. In a lull, she takes my hands. They feel so small in hers. She leans in and gazes at me with clear blue eyes of hers and I feel my breath slow and stop and I'm at a loss for words. She darts in quickly for a kiss, and, as our lips part, she smiles at me, her eyes twinkling, and I sit there, mouth slightly agape, and she leans in again for a longer, deeper kiss. The only sound is the lapping of ripples against the sides of our boat.

We stop for a warm cup of tea in a café somewhere, a quiet out-of-the-way place away from the big-city hustle-and-bustle. We walk some more, we window shop, we visit an art exhibit. I tell her I'm tired and so we lie down on a bed of autumn leaves. I press my small body against hers and her long arm encircles me. Our fingers touch lightly. She sings quietly to me, a popular ballad, but jokingly, and we laugh. I like the way her laughter hums on my body.

She walks me home in the early evening light, my hand in hers. Our plans didn't include dinner, she has someplace else to be. I start to feel slightly jealous. It's silly I know, on a first date, but I can't help it. We stop outside the door to my small apartment, she leans over to kiss me, as I stammer an invitation for her to come upstairs. I feel unsure, a little shocked at myself. I'm really not that kind of boy. She grins and picks me up lightly in her arms. I barely remember her carrying me inside.


Later, I lie on my bed, watching her, as she pulls on her jeans. "Call me?" I ask her. "Sorry I can't stay longer," she smiles. She easily straddles my small bed between her long legs, leans over, takes my face in one hand, and kisses me deeply. Then I hear her heavy footfalls cross my one-room apartment and the door open and shut, followed by the thuds of a woman's step as she strides down the landing. Exhausted, still breathless from the force of her last kiss, I fall asleep.

The Wild Ones

The image of women as leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding, sexually-charged predators is a vibrant mainstay in popular culture in my world. In books, movies and on television, women on motorcycles are glorified as defiant rebels, going wherever the wind takes them, hard-brawlin', hard-boozin' and hard-lovin'. If there was ever a phrase that brought a worried furrowing to the brows of a boy's parents, it would be "She rides a motorcycle."

Some househusbands, sitting in the passenger seats of their wives' SUVs still feel alittle tremor in their hearts seeing a biker roaring down the street, her boy sitting insolently between her thighs on the leather seat, and think back to when they were younger, the fervent crush they'd had on the bad girl from the other side of town, fantasies about holding on to her for dear life as she gunned her chrome machine down the long empty stretch of open road to the American dreamscape. And, when she got there, how she'd throw them down on a splendid unending field of grass and then slowly, have her way with them.

Discipline

In this world, just like in yours, some of us like to play dress-up games involving whips and chains and leather. The big difference is that in our world, it's exclusively the men that feel the need to be chained up and whipped mercilessly until they are quivering messes crawling at the feet of their lusty mistresses. O yeah.

The Kiss #1

Update: Fixed some things that bugged me, such as the position of her hand and especially his butt which didn't look anatomically correct. Honestly, I should be looking and looking and looking some more before uploading. March 3, 2008.

In the Shower

Update: I'm no longer using the "Continue reading..." links since Blogger allows me to flag the whole blog as adults-only. June 3, 2008

Update: Fixed a glaring error I'd left on the shower wall. February 26, 2008.

Sexual attitudes on this world are of course quite different from those in yours. Women, being the sexual aggressors, are a lot less self-conscious about their bodies, while men, on the other hand, are a lot shyer about theirs. Because the female is so much more dominant physically, women also dominate the world socially, economically and culturally much more so than in the reverse in your world and this domination translates to much more open cultural attitudes towards sex, at least among women; men, until relatively recently, were expected to be more reserved and demure about sex in the public sphere.

With prevailing attitudes towards the male sexual role as providing gratification for the female, oral sex is exclusively performed by men on women; in fact, in the current cultural climate, it's almost expected for a man to provide oral pleasure, and to be reasonably good at it. It's also quite common for boys to be referred to laughingly and chauvinistically by women as "clitsuckers" or "cuntlickers" and nowadays, among male friends, these epithets are sometimes used as a mild insult akin to calling him a "slut."

Updates

Sometimes, after repeated viewings, I become dissatisfied with a collage and I will go back and fix some things in the image. If that image has already been uploaded to this blog, then I will re-upload it to the same post and add a short writeup. I'll also label that post with the Updated label, which you'll be able to find in the list of labels in the right-hand column.

Further Adventures in Advertising

Update: Replaced the image with a new one fixing some minor shading and masking problems that I'd overlooked. February 14, 2008.

I first made this collage after I spotted the original source image, which was just begging me to try to do something with it. I mean, seriously, an attractive, athletic, woman, teeing off on a golf-ball resting on a man's puckered-up lips? How could someone like me possibly resist. The source image was challenging to work with though, mostly because the man's legs were actually not in the frame and I had to cobble them together using a combination of copied sections from visible parts of his pants, and shoes from some other image. I also had to figure out some way of filling in the background sections that were obscured by the original man's body and also to make shadows and lit areas on the ground conform to his new size. All of this, of course, compounded by the fact that I had just started collaging, and was really just blundering around.

I learned a lot making this image. I also swore a lot.

I've returned to it quite a few times since. My first fix was to make the man smaller, to be more consistent in this world. In an initial spate of laziness, I'd only shrunk him down to about four and a half feet tall because I wanted to avoid large areas of empty space to have to fill in. Thankfully, I'd come back to this image after more than a year of collaging experience. More recently, I've modified the woman to make her appear taller and more muscular. I also thought it would be more fun if the image was an actual advertisement, you know, one of those amusingly risqué and chauvinistic ad campaigns that occasionally cause an uproar in your world.

Not as much uproar in this world though, except from a small number of unattractive, yet extremely vocal men who would shut up if they could just get laid every now and again.

Bubble Bath

Update: I'm no longer using the "Continue reading..." links since Blogger allows me to flag the whole blog as adults-only. June 3, 2008.

If I post an image that I consider NSFW, I will hide the image behind a "Continue reading this post...." link. This is of course going on the assumption that browsing for photo collages of giant women and diminutive men is safe at your workplace; if it isn't, then you shouldn't be coming here while at work anyway....

All posts with such content will be also be labeled R-Rated, and you can browse all such posts using this link. The same goes for a post consisting of a series of pictures that follow a theme, but with one or two that are NSFW. If that's the case, only the racy ones will go behind the link.

Strictly speaking though, I guess this image really isn't R-rated since even the slightly naughty bits are all hidden by soap suds, but I figure, better safe than sorry. For those of you who are disappointed because you were looking for something to really get your blood running, don't worry, I've got much more explicit pictures in the pipeline.

In the original, again, the woman was looking straight at the camera. I like her looking down at him more. There's more sexual tension, I think, and she looks like she's almost daring him to engage in some delicious misbehavior.

Sex in Advertising

When I started on the idea of this world, I played around with the idea of creating magazine covers that would reflect news and culture that would exist here, and also, advertising images that would grace the pages of such magazines. Advertising, in particular, interests me, because it's such a part of our media-saturated existence. Some popular ad campaigns have even become cultural touchstones, adding to our everyday speech catch-phrases and new vocabulary.

My other interest in advertising imagery is of course, all the implied sex.

C'mon, whadja think I was making all these collages for? Political and artistic comment on our consumerist culture? Please. It's mostly about the sex, and there sure is a lot of it in advertising. And power too, because power is sexy. And the threat of violence, because the withholding of violence is power. And boots, because... well, just because.

California Sun

I think if I were to look back on my early collages, this one would have been an early one where I ended up being quite satisfied with the end result. This was also one of the first where the male figure was sourced from another image. I had to play around a lot with the man's color balance to make it match with the rest of the picture. Anyway, I liked this one so much I didn't even change it much from my original before posting it, other than making the woman's shoulders and arms a bit more developed.

There's something about the woman's expression, I think, that does it for me. There's a sharpness in her eyes, and her amused smile betrays a casual cruelty, something which boys aren't supposed to like in a woman, but are subconsciously drawn to anyway.

It's like they always say, boys dig jerks.