Trolls aside, I am glad you take your work so seriously even if you have the understanding that it is basically just porn material for people. Though I suppose it is a little saddening that TF in general relies on stereotypes to exist as it does in any format.

As I said, I’m perfectly willing to consider the fact that the stuff that I write is inherently problematic in a variety of ways–in all honesty, that’s pretty much what I believe. That said, (a) I don’t think the harm caused by these stories is particularly sizable in scope or damage, and (b) sex itself is pretty problematic in any number of ways, so I’m not entirely sure what a just sexual politics would look like (what I can say, is that it wouldn’t look like the stories I write.)

I just try to be up front about it. These are horror stories, at heart–that’s where I draw most of my inspiration. Most of these stories involve stereotypes, but that’s not even the worst aspect of what I write here. Most of these stories involve mental snuff–that is, the mental life of a character dies in pretty much every single one of these stories. Most of these stories are rape stories–that is, the plot revolves around various forms of non-consensual sex. But they’re also fantasy, and I’m pretty sure everyone who reads them (alright, let’s say 99%, because I get some crazy messages on occasion) knows that they aren’t real, and further, aren’t at all meant to reflect reality, either ideally or practically. 

So that’s the somewhat comfortable ethical ground I’ve staked out around this issue. It isn’t perfect, but I can bite the bullet.

The thing about scifi or fantasy stories is that they contain certain clearly defined, supernatural elements (brainwashed russian soldiers) while the rest of the world is still governed by standard logic, that’s why if you portray another country in a racist manner inside a scifi movie you can’t just say ‘lol why are you bothered by my depiction of all arabs in the movie as bloodthirsty terrorists that is an odd factual hill to die on here considering all the giant robots fighting each other’

Well sure, that’s granted. Just in case anyone other there read my story and somehow actually thought Russians didn’t have access to the internet, allow me to be perfectly clear: in the real world, it’s true both that a) there are no brainwashed Russian soldiers infiltrating America, and b) people living in Russia have a perfectly fine standard of living, including internet access. 

But since we’re going to talk about defined, expected elements of particular genres, let me point out the fact that, like it or not, the TF genre here trades in stereotypes. This isn’t to say that all TF stories *necessarily* involve stereotypes, because that would be ludicrous–but rather, a massive chunk of people aren’t interested in this genre because they fantasize about being another particular person, but rather they fantasize about characters (themselves or others) becoming one of any number of archetypes and stereotypes. That is, the stereotype *is* the fetish.

As a different example of this, obviously not all rednecks are dumb, backwoods hicks, fucking pigs and drinking moonshine. *But* a good number of people like the idea of becoming an exemplar (either by force or not) of that stereotype. Or, at least they do, judging by the notes I get on my posts. The same could be said for every ‘Twink’, ‘Bro’, ‘Nerd’, ‘Bear’, ‘Daddy’, ‘Black’, ‘Asian’, ‘Gymrat’ and ‘Slob’ story out there. All of these are stereotypes and archetypes, all of these stories which feature them slander and mock the categories they’re featuring to one extent or another. Further, it’s alright to be more bothered by some than others! But it’s a little strange to get your knickers in a twist over one stupid archetype, while ignoring the fact that the fundamentals of this genre guarantee that you can’t throw a rock around here without hitting some stupid characterization as dumb as this one, including many much more egregious ones that I’ve written myself. I could link you too them, but this post would be fifty times longer.

We can get into long discussions about whether the nature of this fetish is unethical/problematic/indicative of privilege/etc. some other time, and those are good conversations to have and consider. We can have that talk at the same time we’re considering the fact that, essentially every mind control story is functionally a rape fantasy. Personally, I think readers are smart enough to figure out that these stories are meant as utter fantasy and are politically and factually shallow–that is, I’m not trying to make any deep factual claims or assign a truth value to these stereotypes in these stories, and that generally, they only exist to get you off without much further thought or consideration regarding their factual accuracy or consistency. 

If this really bothers you, then I’d suggest not reading stories in this genre? Especially not mine? This probably isn’t your fetish, and that’s all fine–it’s a pretty small niche. But this shit isn’t supposed to be taken in any sort of serious fashion, and your desire to assign it some sort of deep political and cultural weight just seems ludicrous to me, especially regarding these captions, which are really just the equivalent of an artist’s doodle or sketch. 

So, when I said ‘Try Harder,’ what I meant was that maybe you could be exerting your energy in a slightly more productive fashion? Or, at the very least, you could try harder to understand some of the deeper context surrounding these stories, why they’re all rather fucked politically and socially, before moaning about the unfairness of cultural stereotyping? 

tl;dr, I’ll bite that bullet. It’s small, sugar coated, and I have an iron deficiency.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 3)

Ari heaved a sigh, “Guess I fucked the sequence up a bit–should have done a Tatted Twister first, but I won’t be able to see anything under all that hair of his…Oh well, guess we might as well go big or go home–how does that sound, eh Jules?”

Jules wasn’t listening–he was still staring at his now incredibly hairy body, unable to really process what had just happened to him. His hair had grown long, but at the angle he was positioned on the bed, it had flopped over, obscuring some of his vision. In front of him, he could see his beard, and it was easily a foot long. He had always wondered what he might look like as a redhead, but this wasn’t how he wanted to find out. “Look–please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, alright? I don’t want to do this.”

“See? This is why I need the muscle relaxer first. Because even guys who are open to trying one, never seem to want a second. Well, unless they’re actually buying one of course,” Ari walked back over, and sat down on the bed, looking at Jules, sizing him up. “Probably easiest if I bring the scale in here, I think.”

He got up from the bed, Jules calling after him. He returned a minute later, wheeling a massive, industrial scale ahead of him, and pushed it up next to the bed. “Alright, now let’s get you loaded up.”

The rubber sheeting of the bed turned out to have eyelets all along the edge, allowing it to be hoisted up by a mechanical hoist in the ceiling. For several awkward minutes, as he was picked up in the rubber bundle, maneuvered over the scale, and dropped down onto it, he was forced to try and avoid getting suffocated by the sheet. When he was in a satisfying enough position for Ari to be satisfied with, he zeroed out the scale, and then went to the wall–and returned with a monstrous, pale white tube, thicker than an arm, and five or six inches longer than a forearm. “Newest model of this one–The Nuclear Tonnage! Just have to figure out how much tonnage we’re talking about.”

“Wait, what? What’s this one going to do? And I can’t take something that big!”

“Well…honestly? It’s going to make you fat. I’m not sure how fat–that’s what I have to find out, so I know whether I need to scale the mold up or down.”

“Fat? Oh fuck you, fuck no, get that fucking thing away from me, you fucking asshole!”

“Oh, don’t worry–you’ll love it. Everyone does–it’s built in! You’ll be thanking me soon enough.”

The scale had registered 235 pounds–which, excluding the sheet and prop underneath Jules, meant he weighed about 225. Ari spent half an hour or so, opening up Jules’ ass–first with one fist, and then with both hands at once. It hurt–a lot–but Ari had obviously done this quite a lot, and once the pain subsided…Jules refused to admit it, but it actually felt good…good enough for his cock to get hard, at least. Then the hands pulled out, and before he could object further, the tip of the massive, pale rod was at the entrance of his hole, and sliding in. It went it like butter, and inside, as it heated…it almost felt like it was softening, molding itself to his intestines as it slipped into him, making him shudder and groan with pleasure. “Oh god, it tastes like butter…”

“Oh, this one tastes like a lot of things, trust me–no dog hair though. And hey! You got it all the way in–good job newbie.”

All the way in? It didn’t seem possible, but he could see himself in the mirror, and sure enough, the entire mass was lodged deep in his ass…melting into him, and fuck, it tasted good. Like butter. Or…or lard. Yeah, like pure fucking lard, fuck it was making his mouth water. The warmth inside him, and the delicious tastes assaulting his senses blissed him out, so he didn’t even notice the first few dozens of pounds that added themselves onto his body–not until Ari started poking and prodding at him, testing his skin, and noted that, according to the scale, he’d gained 100 pounds, and it was still climbing at a good clip. Jules tried to pull his focus away from the maple doughnuts he was tasting on his tongue, and looked over at himself, now 325 pounds and growing. His muscles were buried below a hefty layer of fat, and the belly he’d always kept as thin as he could had grown into a proper, sagging gut. Still…it didn’t disgust him as much as he might have expected it to–if anything, he thought it looked…kind of sexy?

“Why…does seeing myself look like a pig…turn me on all of a sudden?” He asked, feeling oddly sluggish in his mind.

Ari started kneading his fat with his rubber gloves, making Jules moan in pleasure, sliding the slick, greasy dildo in and out of his hole a few times, seeing how small it had become. “Because that’s what it’s supposed to do–I told you you’d like it. Now shut up and enjoy yourself. These things are supposed to be pleasurable.”

He did his best to fight it, but as he expanded, he found himself excited to see just how big he might end up. He passed the 200 mark, putting him over 400 pounds, and still showed no sign of stopping, though the dildo was now only about a third of the size it had been to begin with, Ari ramming it in deep, Jules lost in the pleasure of his new body–so lost, that his own orgasm caught him by surprise. He could feel his cock pulse deep in his fat pad, cum leaking out and around his fat…and even that idea made him feel so fucking sexy. The scale finally came to rest at 332 pounds–putting him at a new total weight of 557–and suddenly, he wanted to keep going. Wanted to be bigger, the taste of butter lingering in his mouth but fading fast. “Fuck, he said, and let off a big belch, “I’m fucking starving–and shove another one of those in me! Make me even bigger! Oh fuck, did I…fuck, what the fuck have you done to me?”

“surfing the internet (something he’d never been able to do back in Russia.)” is this what americans actually believe

….No? 

I mean, judging from the number of porn sites that end in .ru, that would be kind of ridiculous.

So is the idea that Russia is sending brainwashed and bodyswapped Russian spies undercover to infiltrate American society???

I mean, unless you know something about that. What I’m trying to say is that “Russians do too have the internets!” is an odd factual hill to die on here in the broader context.

That is, you’re being silly, little troll.

Why is a company called Arctos (bear) selling a drug that turns people into skinhead pups? #plotholes

Because the drug they’re supplying can be used by anyone to turn someone into what they want? The MacGuffin is open-ended here. 

More importantly, why are you expecting worldbuilding consistency from an author who generally shuns that style of writing? That’s not what I deliver. If you need seamless worlds to jack your junk, go check some other porn blog I guess?

I remember reading a caption on here about underwear swapping tf, but I came through a reblog and couldn’t find the next part, if there is one. Now I can’t find the original part, either. Did you delete it at some point?

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you are looking for “Underwear Trade Network”, Part 1 and Part 2. Your confusion and inability to find them, probably has to do with the fact that, since posting that, I started posting all of my caption stories over on a secondary blog, but these are in the archive of my primary blog. In any case, nothing was deleted that I know of–if these aren’t the stories you’re looking for, let me know some more details, and I’ll dig around some more.

Someone really should get around to organizing that archive someday…