The bathroom was a terrible place to be. All the stall doors were slightly ajar and the terrible placement of the typical office fluorescent lighting gave the shadows life that they certainly wouldn’t have possessed on their own. I kept turning back in terror from what I assumed was a malevolent face in the handicapped stall. The wall by the sink provided me something to look at to occupy my mind, but this too became a source of vile fascination. Whether the talk was all in my mind or if there was someone there I do not know. Kindly and reassuring it spoke to me of demons, and angels, and paths to power sometimes being fraught with dangerous-looking things. There was no need to worry though of course, not if you were prepared.

People came and went out of the bathroom during all this, I played it off, made small talk. No one seemed to notice anything amiss, though I distinctly remember talking about the bathroom being haunted. More common knowledge than I’d assumed, I guess. It was late, these were after-hours types of people. Just sales floor looking to bag a couple extra bucks for the week, that’s all. Trying to get in those calls to Malaysia or wherever-the-fuck.

My benefactor guided me around to a room I’d never seen before, one that seemed like it shouldn’t exist, since it was approximately 10 feet too big, and had no windows. There were no outward bulges on this building! No way this could exist without breaking some serious physics laws. Nevermind that. The floor looked sort of like a chalkboard, the green kind. There was also an actual green chalkboard on the wall. Other than this and some boxes on the side it was empty.

So much younger, I looked about me in wide-eyed vulnerability, eager to begin my education on these demons of which my kindly old benefactor had spoken. The room was now fitted with a bed, and candles, and shelves full of books. Yet it was as if no time had passed at all. Securely I was strapped down on the massive, fluffy bed. Legs spread wide to reveal that holiest-of-holies, and the blood that was trickling from it. Eagerness made squiming fools of us both, and he crossed to ensure the door was bolted. After all, on the other side of that were working stiffs. They wouldn’t understand the complexity of what was at hand, all they would see is an old man raping a barely pubescent girl.

There was no desire for the predictable fallout of that, so he pulled the first of two doors to a close as quietly as possible and pushed in the lock with a wincingly audible click. As he pulled the second door into place, cracked white paint flaking pathetically, there was a pull at the first. The sliding bolt of door number two held, but only just barely. Small talk ensued. Oh yes, don’t worry about a thing, just trying to get some things buttoned up afterall, ha ha. He could see in her eyes she wasn’t really buying it, and a furtive glance got past his careful guard to what looked like and for all intents and purposes was a young girl strapped spread eagle to a bed.

Satisfied that he’d prevented disaster, he approached me. I didn’t question why I was suddenly so young, so vulnerable, so eager to have my brains fucked out by this stranger, so willing to be filled with dark knowledge of the kind of beings I had been utterly terrified of only a short while before. As he plays with my bloodied, virginal body I become possessed of all types of knowledge I never before suspected to have. I become something else. A vessel for this knowledge, for things dark and unknowable and realize with no small amount of fear that fear is no longer an option.

Cue the out of body experience. She who had so suspciously checked the room that shouldn’t be and seen something which clearly couldn’t be looked around and discovered a convenient can of translucent purple stuff. It was a kind of paint that induced the surfaces it was spread on to be translucent. Smearing this on the wall outside the room, nothing happened. Yet slowly an image formed, and she saw precisely what she was conerned she would see. A solidly built but somewhat out of shape older man was humping away at the young girl strapped down to the bed. The dark shapes and amorphous smokey clouds of energy which surrounded them were of no consequence in this horrific view. Inspired to action she frantically sought a way to bring this man to justice for what surely had to be the rape of a young girl.

Blood. Terror. Struggle to control the newly reborn demons within. Nothing really came of this. Or maybe a lot came of it. Hard to say now.

I was in an elevator with a boy I’ve always found tremendously attractive. We only needed to go to the fourth floor or so, but the digital output of the elevator stated our destination as 26. I played along with this, flirting heavily and rubbing up against him when it seemed appropriate. The elevator jerked periodically, in a way that felt much more like a subway car than your standard issue elevator. At some point late in the journey, the sensation changed from a straight upward motion to an up-and-over motion, as the elevator changed tracks and followed a curve while still rising higher in the building. There was a distinct sense of deja vu, and I felt fairly certain what I would see when the journey came to an end. Alas, not enough time to try to talk my elevator companion into a quickie, and I wasn’t confident that the elevator could handle being stopped.

When the doors opened it was on to other things. I stood beside a table of people in suits, loudly proclaiming how much I missed working with the model at the far end of the room. Oh he had been such a delight to work with, so much fun, so understanding. A purse with a colorful floral pattern caught my eye and I began to rifle through it, looking for identification to see who it belonged to, since it looked familiar. Inside was an address book I have not used since my freshman year of high school, leading me to think that this was perhaps my purse. I was not convinced and continued to paw through it, to no avail.

A woman with a flyer in her hand stopped me on the street and asked if the person metioned in a poorly photocopied ad was me. Well yes, it was. An amaturish ad for eyebrow tweezing and graphic design which distinctly mentioned me. I clarified to her that a dear friend of mine (the model mentioned before) that I used to do work for had put that together, trying to help me get business. Of course I don’t really do eyebrow tweezing, but I am pretty good at graphic design, so do keep in touch. The woman seemed suddenly repulsed and unimpressed, despite the fact that she had approached me about the ad, and wandered off.

Fortunately I ran into that model friend of mine after I got off the elevator. I tried to talk to him about the flyer but he was too busy for me.

The room was sterotypically dark. A long table lit by one or two overhead lamps with green cones that didn’t really serve to diffuse the glare of the bare bulb. A long, plain table at which three people sat, doing coke and looking bored. They barely talked. Time flashed forward in little fits and spurts, and the baggies got less fun, but the people no more animated than before. It struck me as wrong, but I was only an observer in this case.

Cue the naked girl wrapped up in plastic, more like an impossible collection of plastic bags. The bag over her head simultaneously covered her head, but was open at the front, the blue and yellow (make green!) top portion of the bag left open in front of her face to allow her to breathe, and to allow the three from the previous scene to keep feeding her drugs. Whatever it was, she was out cold most of the time. White pills and white powders floated in and out of view during all this. At one point, Bag Girl came to and saw the dashing male model. Recognizing him, she begged for his help, struggling in her plastic prison with the energy that hope provided her. A spoon filled with a pink substance that looked remarkably like Pepto Bismol came into view and seemed to slosh around in slow motion. This substance was meant for her and was given to her. Bag Girl blinked stupidly and blacked out.

Apropos of nothing, three older men dressed like greek gods stood about, discussing their power. When the insense power of the sun was brought into the conversation, sun screen was splashed haphazardly onto two of the three men. This was fortunate, because the clouds opened up and as the sun shone on the three, all the skin which had not been coated with sunscreen split and ruptured violently. They screamed like mighty warriors.

The last part is now the fuzziest, although it inspired me to make sure I wrote this all down in the first place. I should spend less time on exposition and make sure I get the base notes down first. Once I’ve written out the basics of a dream, I can typically remember most of it with ease. So now I give you loose snippets and notes of what I dreamt just before I awoke.

giant insects.
Green and almost puppet-like or cartoony in nature.
giant insects that fuse with and incubate in people.
people totally cool with it until bugs burst out of their bodies.
then they just die in a flood of green gunk.
Somehow it all tied in with the three drug-doing people and Bag Girl.

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Yes, once again our first-ever contest, the Design-a-Vagina Contest (Redux), has come to a close. The results are already in and those results may be expressed with the following image.

If you can’t read that, and I don’t blame you if you can’t, it says “This Page Intentionally Left Blank” – which is to say that the second iteration of the Design-a-Vagina contest has come and gone without an entry. As such, I am somewhat grateful as it means I don’t have to shell out upwards of $150 on prizes, but I am also disappointed that I could not help the woman from North One who had encouraged me to rerun the contest in the hopes of fostering discussion on modern women’s body image issues.

Which is a subject that has been touched upon before by yours truly, although never really discussed outside of that post and mentions as part of the contest. Fun, games, and fabulous un-won prizes aside, are there any issues regarding elective cosmetic surgery and women’s body issues that anyone would like to talk about? If so, we would love to hear from you. No issues can be fixed or even identified unless they are understood, and understanding requires communication.

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The comments and contents of this post are considered NSFW – Not Safe For Work – and we assume no fault if you get tagged for inappropriate conduct. Though we here at RKNet do not consider these contents inappropriate, we do not make the rules or the laws regarding your day-to-day life. Thank you for your understanding.

Welcome one and all to the second run of RKNet’s very first contest, the Design-a-Vagina contest. Previously we here at RKNet had provided a mostly blank sheet, in activity book style, encouraging people to create an image of a realistic or fantastic “ideal vagina”.

Thanks to the interest of a documentary team doing a film for North One Productions, we are proud to reopen the contest, with a few changes. The documentary is going to be called The Vagina Dialogues, with the goal of discussing female sexuality and body image, particularly as it relates to the Holiest-of-holies, the vag, the cooter, the hoo-hoo parts, the vagina, the vulva, the cooch and (depending on who you talk to) the cunt. With a focus on discussing the issue, the acceptable categories for entries to the Design-a-Vagina will be as follows:

1. 150-1000 words on your personal feelings regarding the “ideal vagina” and your thoughts surgery or other modifications to attain an ideal visual appearance. You may express this in fiction if you include a brief opening statement which declares it a fictional piece, and hopefully states the goals of the piece in a short and clear fashion. Please state if you are male, female, mixed gender or transgender. Post your entry in the comments, or on your blog and link to it from the comments.
2. An original visual representation of what to you constitutes the “ideal vagina”, preferably with a brief description on your overall concept and thoughts surrounding the image. Photos, drawings, computer generated and mixed-media images appropriate. Link to your image (html image tags supported in the comments also) and share your comments. Please state if you are male, female, mixed gender or transgender. This category will rely on the honor system in part, however we will be doing background checks on every image submission.
3. Personal (i.e. of yourself) audio or video submissions between 1 and 5 minutes, discussing what you consider the “ideal vagina” and your thoughts surgery or other modifications to attain an ideal visual appearance. Please state if you are male, female, mixed gender or transgender.

Prizes will be determined in part by the number of entries in each category. If there are more than 10 in each category, then the chosen winner in each category will receive a $50 gift certificate to JT’s Stockroom (site NSFW) or Amazon.com – winners’ preference. Each category must have at least ten entries for this to apply. If there are less than 10 in each category (yes, even if it’s 10, 10, and 9), then one single winner will be chosen from all categories and be awarded a $50 gift certificate to either JT’s Stockroom or Amazon.com – winner’s preference.

Winners (in each category or in general if too few of each category are submitted) will be chosen at random. This is something I failed to specify before and many thanks to my good friend Matt for pointing out this grevious omission. The goal here is to foster communication, and as such I cannot very well propose that I have what it takes to judge the merit of people’s personal feelings.

Watch this post for updates: I will be trying to get backing to make the prizes more interesting for participants. Though I should hope that the opportunity to discuss these issues publicly would be the biggest draw of all.

There will also be bonuses and/or props available for people who demonstrate that they have promoted this contest. The person who can provide the most proof of promotion will receive a prize of their choosing, either many very public thanks and links by RKNet on your behalf or a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com.

The deadline for the contest is 06/30/2008, 12:00 pm EST.

Entries will be chosen within a week of the deadline. An update will be made after the close of the deadline declaring the number of entries in each category.

Thank you and good luck!

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In an endless void of silence, one voice was bold enough to even suggest an answer to the challenge put forth by me and my cavalier crew! It was none-other than the good Doctor. The email from Dr. Hypercube was like manna from the heaven that exists in a twisted alternate reality in which anatomy was meant to be treated just like modeling clay.

Despite his highly understandable trepidation in regards to meddling with the forms of nature, he slipped through enemy lines in broad daylight to pass on a concept so daring, so bold, so positively fantastic that I nearly fainted on the spot.

It was a simple visual combination, he suggested, trying not to catch the attention of the vicious guards of Biology and Feminism.

It’s…
and
That’s right. Sally Impossible, of the Venture Brothers, and a Sea Anemone, of… the sea.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find the picture of Mrs. Impossible that I wanted, but I feel as though this one fits surprisingly well. You see, Sally Impossible was bombarded with radiation in an accident (ala The Fantastic Four), and now turns “invisible”. I use the term invisible in quotes because the only part of her that turns invisible is her epidermis, skin, outermost human shell. This reveals something that looks like one of those human anatomy models. It’s unfortunate, and since it happens that she reverts to this “invisible” state without a great deal of concentration, it really puts a damper on her dating life.

Our other inspirational component is the sea anemone – a fascinating creature. Though they appear to be delicate, colorful flowers, the tendrils which gentle waver in the tidal pull are in fact the seeking tentacles of a meat-eating animal. An animal which lives all over the world and has many different species in shape, color, and behavior. Although they lack the teeth to make this combination a true “vagina dentata”, the anemone’s anatomy (say that a couple times fast!) is highly limited, and beyond the tentacles lies the mouth, and beyond the mouth lies what can best be described as a G-spot capable of digestion. Anemones which are divided into two sexes release eggs or sperm through the same orifice through which food is gathered. So essentially they eat sea life and periodically vomit reproductive splooge.

All in all, the most glorious combination ever the grace the minds of RKNet’s fine fellowship in general. A stunning combination of science and awesome cartoons. Roll that into our contest concept of redesigning the human female reproductive area and, well, it’s a work of art.

So, here’s to you, Doctor Hypercube! Even though you weren’t able to diagram your thoughts, you have truly inspired us all in ways we may never be able to scrub from our imaginations whether we’d like to or not.

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…and so is love.

We had precisely zero submissions. I’m speechless, gentle readers, but ultimately not terribly surprised. We are a sparse, busy, and easily distracted lot here at RKNet, and we can only assume that our readership shares at least some of these qualities. Most notably the sparseness, what with the sheer lack of exposure. It will change, someday, you’ll see, you’ll ALL see! BWAHAHAHAHAHA-*cough* ‘scuse me.

I would like to give honorary first place, however, to Dr. Hypercube for his amazing concept submission. While he was not confident that he could produce the appropriate visual representation of his thoughts on the matter, he was kind enough to send me his idea.

Stay tuned for a complete write up, with pictures to help shed some light on the brilliance at work, soon to come.

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Well kids, there’s about 2 days left for RKNet’s very first contest: Design-a-Vagina.

Truth be told I still haven’t come up with any suitable prizes, although the following options have crossed my mind:

• Print the winning entry on a shirt, bag, or just get it on some really nice print stock.
• Some manner of personal manipulation device (a.k.a. dildo)
• A gift certificate of some sort.
• A hearty congratulations and a page to enshrine the winner for all time.

However, given that there have been approximately ZERO entries thus far (not even non-qualified entries from the judges!), I suspect that I may not have to concern myself with prizes. Should anyone desire to participate, now is the time! If there’s significant activity near the closing bell I will be more than happy to accept entries that are technically “late”.

Gentle readers, this is your time to shine. Scrape at the creative mucus that resides in your skull for the sake of re-imagining that oh-so-mysterious entry to the female generative organs and we promise not to disappoint in rewarding you.

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Just in time for both Cthuhlu Cthursday and Vag Day- I mean – Valentine’s Day, here’s a card for your scrumptious puppet of fear, madness, and in some cases the wasted human expression known as “love”.

Although he waits in a death-like slumber, Cthuhlu is still polite enough to at least send a card when the time comes again for the humans to get all agitated and rub against each other in various futile forms of staving off madness and death. The humor of your petty practices of self-adulation are not lost on The Tentacled One, and thusly he has usurped my standard functions and compelled me to create a card that you might share in the worshipful ecstacy of the passing regard issued forth by Mighty Cthuhlu.

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