Contest winner THE SPANISH NINJA VEGA writes: I got my name because I'm spanish and I've practiced martial arts for roughly 8 years. Some people say I'm a little vain and I've even been told I look like a long-haired Brad Pitt (minus the looks, money and talent). I'm a BE manga artist and am also talented in BE sprite making. As many know, I'm a regular at Minka's bulletin board as I am a big fan of her work. Not much more can be said about me.

Pornographic mass-quantities consumer advocate and Certified Lucky Bastard CHILI PALMER returns to BEhavior after a long hiatus, once again neglecting to file a brief bio on his way in.

Technical editor and professional missing person TRANSPONDER is just making sure that you're paying attention.

First-time contributor DUTCHESS LICKMAN was born in Wackenstrauss, a small village just south of Strunz on the German peninsula in 1959. Daughter of professional ski waxers, Dutchess participated in the 1980 Winter Olympics in the curling event. She was so taken by the magnificence of northern New York State, she decided to make Lake Placid her permanent home and moved there in 1982. She retired from sports and thrust headfirst into the field of erotic literature. She lives with her 2 cats, Murray and Fluffbox.

Three years ago, SEELIE was asked to walk a mile in another man's shoes. Seven thousand miles later, he wishes he could find the bugger to give them back 'cause they're full of holes and giving him blisters. He is sure that he'd remember who he got the shoes from, but after spending nearly a half an hour under the Kern river with a fractured skull, he can rarely remember anything but lying in bed as a child, pushing the sheets up with his hands over his chest and imagining that he was a girl with rapidly growing breasts. Secretly, he thinks the only reason that he remembers this is because he still does it from time to time. Fortunately, male models are not judged on their intellect but on their beauty. Unfortunately, even if he were beautiful, two appearances sporting leather chaps in a magazine aimed at yuppie hell's angel wanna-be's don't make much of a modeling career.

ST STEPHAN has some bad news, and some other bad news which has turned into good news. The bad news is that his progress towards true sainthood is gravely imperiled by numerous local and interweb distractions. The other bad news is that his penchant for huge breasts and his intercourse with the Breast Expansion Archive was recently discovered when a brother came upon the Archbishop, uh, enjoying - flagrante delicto - Stephan's copious collection. Well, since it was the Archbishop himself, the upshot is that Stephan has been named missionary to big-breast lovers everywhere, with residence at the BEA. And like any good missionary, he must be fluent in the language of his flock, viz. big boobs, as a means of bringing you to the Bosom of the Church (see?). So, gratia Deo, expect more memorable mammary material from His Holiness, but rather more directed towards the True Faith than of late (cf. the Thanksgiving and Christmas/St Stephen's Day contributions). And rest assured that St Stephan intends to derive complete fulfillment from his missionary position.

Sanitized for your safety: JUSTMEMIKE writes the "Mai Pehn Rai" column for BEhavior and the "Also On Video" column for R & D. JMM also handles recruitment of new writers for BEhavior. Contact him for story submissions. When he isn't at the keyboard, you might find JMM at a baseball game, or on some vacation in Europe or Asia. And he loves cats and dogs.

FRANZ is the F of F&K, the hard-working Italian morpher couple Franz75 & Katia, and has always had a big mouth. Since he wore short pants, he has spent most of his time busting his schoolmates' balls with his ideas on such things as the Existence of the Supernatural, the Meaning of Life, Immortality, and Tits. Today, few things have changed (apart from his pants): having specialized in the study of formal logic, he started to morph, and he claims he won't stop until he has calculated the golden section of boobs. Feeling sure he'll never find it, Chili Palmer agreed to host his works. Franz lives on in the vain illusion that what he does is art, and that one day he'll have his own gallery in the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. His friends are too kind to tell him the truth.

GONZO will get back to you with a bio once he gets a life.