Home Artists Posts Import Register
Patreon importer is back online! Tell your friends ✅

Content

It's been a fun few days trying to emulate materials. And this piece was just a fun challenge overall.

To tell the truth, a LOT of this is because I'm realizing how useful the Airbrush is in Clip Studio. And I guess that's for every drawing program. It was on a recent Cassiopeia Quinn pinup that I saw how good it was at rendering her leather jacket, that I thought I should try experimenting with that. So I also came up with this challenge to try to get different kinds of black next to each other.

I was recently talking about, trying to avoid over working on things that don't improve storytelling. But when it comes to this kind of illustration where the kink is ABOUT the materials, then representing the material in a pleasurable way is important. So how do I do that efficiently, beautifully, and accurately?

I think I learned a bit, just by creating this character. If this is a character.

Files

Comments

Devi Lacroix

I think you succeeded on the "efficiently, beautifully, and accurately" fronts! I find it particularly remarkable that the outfit appears to have FOUR different textures, and I can "visualize" how each one has a distinct "feel."

Tukaro

So is this some sort of symbiote, or nano machines expanding, or just ink? Also that helmet is bad-ass.

Red

oooh, pretty :)

psudonym

In my mind, it could totally be a nano machines suit thing. I like that sorta thing.

BZArcher (Blind Zen Archer)

Do you think this one may be 'safe' enough to share on twitter? Because I know a bunch of friends (who are totally not drones) who would really love to see this and share it (because they are absolutely not trying to encourage you to become a drone.)

psudonym

I think it is. I just haven't had the guts to share it yet. Kinda busy doodling Cass stuff. I think it can go up for CutieSaturday or something.

Anonymous

Best yet. Don't make drones, but girls in living protective outfits that attach themselves. The cost of protection however is that early versions of the suit don't seem to have a way to remove them from test volunteers. Maybe one day science and the people that make them will find a way to loose the grip of this marvelous device but for now those that come in contact with it in it's dormant state seem to have to continue to wear test versions. And what's the incentive to find a release. The suits work fine just as they are. Tell that to the test victims. he he he

Anonymous

The door swung open after a forgotten number of days… weeks? Oh GOD! She’d forgotten. She rubbed the number imprinted on the… the… black rubber skin across her breast 01261999. What did it mean? Whatever it meant, one thing was sure, it wasn’t coming off. She peered around the corner of the door and the environment surrounding the building she had become locked in was the same. How could that be? What was she wearing? More importantly how was she supposed to get it off? For the time she had been locked in the strange metal cube that had had an open doorway to it she had come across while walking in woods not far from her cabin, a cube that had never been there before, she had been coated, connected to automated tubes that locked in place when they got her, and they always seemed to get her no matter how evasive she had tried to be. They would stay attached for unknown periods of time. Sometimes she had the feeling they were pumping something into the coating on her body. At other times it felt like it was extracting… God she only wished she knew. She wanted out. THAT she knew for sure. So, when the door re-opened, she checked and then bolted toward home. Pine needles, sticks and dry branches crunched beneath her feet. It should have hurt like hell, but this suit was protecting her feet. Why had she touched it? God damn it, why? She wanted out. When she wasn’t attached to the cube by the random tubes that every so often reached out of the thick walls of the cube and locked themselves to her suit she wanted out. She had spent all that time in that metal block, dropped mysteriously in the woods, just her and what looked like a black rubber ball in the corner. It had been roughly 2 feet by 2 feet round, shiny, and didn’t quiver at all even when she pounded on the walls of the cube looking for the door that had slid closed behind her when she passed the threshold. She didn’t touch it until thirst overtook her sanity and she was afraid that was going to die of dehydration. She had had no idea what it could be but, she had hoped it would provide water or food or even better a way out of this box. Instead, when she touched it, it climbed up her fingers and rapidly spread over her hand. When she screamed and tried to shake it off, it attacked her head, silencing her, engulfing her head in what felt and looked in the polished sheen of the box as some sort of cat’s head with no features on it’s face. There suddenly appeared a goldish collar around her neck followed by a severe, loud click. Like a locks bolt snapping shut. She could not scream any more. Her mouth was filled with a hollow funnel, closing her mouth at the jaw and spreading wide deeper into her mouth. She pulled and tugged and tried to scream but she was quickly becoming tightly encased. It took only seconds to strip off her jogging outfit and running shoes and leave them torn and empty on the floor of the cube. She dashed, tripping over rocks and fallen trees, toward her cabin before whoever did this to her came to… do what? Collect their property with her still inside it? The number emblazoned on her left breast, what was it? A version number for the suit? A tracking number? The number of people who were trying desperately as she was to remove it. Was she property? She wasn’t going to stick around and find out. She had tools at her house. Blades, razors, screw drivers. Even more frightening, she wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been now for as long as she could remember. Maybe dying of dehydration wasn’t going to happen. The suit seemed to be keeping her health steady and stable. Maybe if she could knock the collar around her neck off, she could just peel the heavy latex off her body with a sharp knife. There was a possibility that if she could pull the stuff stuck to her away from her body between her legs, maybe she could get a cut started. It was curious that whoever had designed this had obviously designed this one for a woman to wear. Her labia was still open, and in the time she had spent in the box her only distraction had been to rub herself and try to stimulate herself. But the latex or rubber or whatever it was had invaded her body and was particularly thick there. The sensation of touch had been greatly diminished there. But on those long days when the attachments weren’t chasing her, trying to lock onto the suit, she had spent her time trying to find a weakness there. Or maybe it was just the fear of being locked away inside a faceless, cat like body of flexible armor that had driven her to try to remind herself there was a living, sexual creature locked inside it. Even trying to crack the hardened helmet on her head against the mirror finish of the inside of the box had proved fruitless. She needed the tools at home to give her an advantage. Days later, she sat at the footboard of her bed, cradling her helmet in her flexible but tacky hands. And assortment of tools from hacksaws to razor knives, screw drivers and hammers lay strewn around her as she sat and silently wept. The only sign she was crying was the outwardly appearance of her body convulsing as she wept. At times she would grab the mask on her head and struggle violently with the tall cat ears attempting to pull it off her head, or try again after uncounted failed attempts to try to the collar or cuffs free from the narrow parts of her body. She was still not hungry or thirsty. The suit seemed to be caring for her biological needs, all except one. Deprivation drove her to try to rub herself into a frenzy a woman frozen in black seamless … whatever it was trying to force her humanity out of the thing someone and lured her into and was now waiting to come and collect their prize. She had followed the cheese right into their trap and they had turned her into a hairless cat with a high shiny sheen to her glossy encasement. A week before today she had returned, unafraid, hopeful even to find someone anyone at the large mental room she had been stuck in for so long. She was heart broken to find that not only were there no people looking for their escaped lab rat, the highly polished box she had been trapped in was also gone. Without so much as drag marks in the earth to show how or which direction they had taken it. All that was left now was for them to find her, and for her to hope they could get her out of the freakish, fetish like costume she was trapped in.

Anonymous

word doesn't adopt paragraphs well to the formatting of these comment boxes. But this is my take on the visual that has been left so beautifully rendered for us to enjoy.

Anonymous

Seems this is the only way I can communicate with you for now.

Anonymous

As for creating something commercially, well, no I wasn't inclined to that. I thought writing a story combined with your art on that subject along the lines of a BDSM theme might be fun. Sort of connect the dots, give the character a background and uncertain purpose. But it sounds like you're active with other writers, or so I take it from what you wrote on your discord invite, which I couldn't log into, sorry. If the day arrives you want to work or collaborate on that character whoever she is, I would love to lend a hand for free. Yes for free. I'd love to set her in motion. I'm just interested in bring her to life. If in the future we decided to come to terms on a different arrangement at your behest, then so be it. For now what I'd write would be of no charge or creative claim. Kitty

psudonym

I think you responded to a comment thread post! This thread isn’t the private messages!

Anonymous

if you would like my email, let me know. - Kitty