A set of fantastically rendered images of android, amputee bondage which reek of the aforementioned Herr Bellmer. The only problem here is that no one seems to know who the artist is. If anyone knows please feel free to leave the answer in the comments section.
Link is NSFW (thar be breasts).
Update: Trevor Brown has finally finally dropped the artist’s name: Itsuki Takashi. Thanks, mkb!
Meet Danny. Danny is lonely. Danny just wants to meet a woman; a woman who’s attractive. She should have features like eyes, legs, and, perhaps, automatic windows or at least a cup holder. Danny wants to take you out on a romantic date, complete with a candlelight dinner, roses, hand holding, music, and, because he knows how you women folk jibber-jabber, lots of talking. On the beach. He has a wild streak as well, once having run across the street without looking. He’s a wild man alright.
Watching this video I wonder just how closely related the man’s parents were or if the place where they made their home was riddled with high levels of radiation. I also wonder just how honest Danny is being in this video. Does the key to the city of his town even exist? Does he really want to talk or is he just looking for a real life woman to replace he crusty, worn blow-up doll? Lastly, do specific features matter or does he just need them to fill out the ever growing collection of body parts he stores in his basement?
“In this photo a Alien has mistaken a sex doll for a real person and may be seen entering her mouth. What the Alien does not know is that the sex doll has no body and is not made out of flesh. After realizing the mistake, the Alien removed itself and slithered away. Elisha Cook Jr. tried to capture the beast, but it was too quick and it escaped. All that remains is this photo.”
Truly, this is one nightmare that Brownlee and I share: a pixie-headed girleen, gracile of limb and sleek of shape, decides to undergo a series of twenty surgeries that turn her into a putty-colored, basketball-breasted, fish-lipped hag.
The infinite tragedy of such a decision, undoubtedly backed with heaping doses of body dysmorphia, depression, and just plain bad taste, is that her career didn’t take off until she did it.
Anyone who finds this actually attractive, this Thing that she has twisted herself into, should be weeping with shame…
Finally! A bridge device to help the real doll enthusiast cope with the unfathomable horror of making love to warm flesh, flushed with fresh blood pumped by the beating heart of a real live woman, fluid and dynamic in time, with her own private opinions, passions and demons to tantalize, haunt and confound. The Dolly Catsuit: a flesh-covered latex body suit with horrible unblinking eyes, a bald head, the lurid open mouth of a fellatio vacuum head attachment and plundering holes already drilled.
I’m not really sure what’s creepier at this point: the Idolator? Or the guy who’d make his girlfriend wear this. It’s like making love to an anthropomorphic lump of Silly Putty with Googly Eyes attached.
The creepy aphorisms of a Japanese real doll enthusiast:
“A human girl can cheat on you or betray you sometimes, but these dolls never do those thing. They belong to me 100 percent.”
“Sometimes it takes too much time before I can have sex with the person I meet. But with these dolls, it’s just a matter of a click of the mouse. With one click, they are delivered to you.”
Does anyone else get the distinct impression that if someone created a mail-order corpse delivery service, and offered a lifetime warrantee including a new coat of paraffin every two years, that there’d be a substantial market of onely middle-aged men with a static definition of time who would happily make them millionaires?
For me, that’s the horrible future of genetic cloning: soulless with the implausible bodies of massively breasted 13 year olds, alchemically congealed in bubbling vats for the express purpose of being sold as both semen receptacles and murder dolls to the mentally sick.
In response to the Guys and Dolls real doll documentary we posted yesterday, Taquito commented:
Far more fascinating - and MOVING - than I ever would have expected. I’d anticipated a total “ha, let’s laugh at the freaks!” show but wow, talk about some serious pathos. The British fellow in particular had me more than a little verklempt, people shouldn’t -have- to have their choices limited to either soul crushing loneliness or - eh, soul-crushing loneliness with -dolls-…
No, they shouldn’t, and my deep revulsion for these people aside, it is diluted in the end into a sort of nauseous pity, because I don’t believe that any person is utterly undeserving of companionship.
But let’s make no mistake: these guys aren’t just unlucky in love. They ARE freaks, and the choice of living in either soul-crushing loneliness or soul-crushing loneliness with dolls is one they made themselves by excluding the third choice most of us take for granted.
Eliza and I were discussing this yesterday: each and every one of them is obsessed with the concept of static time. A dead mother’s room preserved for thirty years as a shrine, a framed photograph of a female roommate from ten years ago, and so on. Gordon bitterly complains, “Think of all the friends you had at five or six. Where are they in your lives now?”
It’s not an accident that most of these guys either live with their parents, lived with their parents until they died or are shut-ins. The only woman who can have a place in their lives must be as immobile as their perception of time, and those women only come in latex.
“For some people finding a partner in life can be difficult. For others, it’s almost impossible. For some people finding a partner in life can be difficult.. 10 years ago, a small factory in California began making alternative partners.”
I’ve only watched the first ten minutes, but this looks like a winner. The first section follows Real Doll enthusiast “Davekat” of Michigan, who lives with his parents and is frustrated by the fact that they do not accept his lifestyle choice, let alone allow him to sit his plastic fuck doll down at the dinner table, no matter how much of his semen he squeegees out of it first.
“I think there is definitely a sense of disappointment,” Davekat laments. “I think what my father finds difficult about my relationship with Sheeshan is that she’s not ‘alive’ (voice inflected to indicate airquotes)… she’s not a ‘human being’. He sees it as unnatural and strange, and he is someone for whom strange should be avoided… I think he’s a bit creeped out by them.”
One imagines he’s less creeped out by the doll, Davekat, than the fact that you’re having sex with one.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
Finally! A bridge device to help the real doll enthusiast cope with the unfathomable horror of making love to warm flesh, flushed with fresh blood pumped by the beating heart of a real live woman, fluid and dynamic in time, with her own private opinions, passions and demons to tantalize, haunt and confound. The Dolly Catsuit: a flesh-covered latex body suit with horrible unblinking eyes, a bald head, the lurid open mouth of a fellatio vacuum head attachment and plundering holes already drilled. 
The creepy aphorisms of a Japanese real doll enthusiast:
In response to the 
