Probably not–that was a ton of work. If you’re desperate for a vignette though, you can always commission one. I’m still open for vignette extensions and CYOC chapters.
Author: wesleybracken8258
I love the stories daddys little man and checking in!
Thanks, lol, though the first one was a bit more trouble that it was worth. Apparently things seem to be orbiting around Apologia today.
How is that novel you were supposed to be selling on amazon going?
Backburnered. Still working my way through my commission backlog. Still very much want to do so, but no real news on that front unfortunately.
I read your “Apologia” on NCMC, and I have to agree with your point. I find many types of TF stories exceptionally hot, especially leather, bear, and redneck TFs, and would prefer to see the whole spectrum of possibilities, and choose for myself. After all, if I don’t like it, I do not have to look.
*Sigh* I guess I might as well break the silence.
It’s been (nearly) a year since I wrote that piece, and I deliberately took the stance that I wouldn’t comment on it–that I would say my bit and then move on. Of course, I wrote the piece kind of quickly, for fear of losing my nerve and because the internet’s attention span is short, but I don’t think I was as clear as I should have been about what I wanted to communicate, so maybe a couple points of clarification / elaboration are in order, now that the thing is settled.
You know, a lot of people took that piece as a plea for tolerance–and while that was my takeaway, it wasn’t really my concern at all through the bulk to the piece. Rather, it was concerned how community rules and regulations ought to be constructed, and with what I’ll call the three ‘C’s’–Clarity, Consistency, and Communication–all of which the NCMC fails miserably at.
Here was the problem put in those terms. First, the rules the NCMC has to guide submissions are pretty vague. A lot of people wanted to say that the “No characters under 17” rule was precise, but in my piece, I pointed out that the entire question of age in these stories becomes very vague, very quickly. There was a lot of “letter of the law” vs. “spirit of the law” debated back and forth in the comments, but that was the point–if your letter doesn’t match the spirit and intention of the rule, then you’ve written an unclear rule, and maybe you should revise it to make it more accurate. Trying to build a community around rules that shift under people’s feet is not a very good foundation.
Second, the rules were never enforced consistently, especially the final rule restricting the use of copyrighted characters. Goodness, if ever there was a rule that no one seemed to care about on the NCMC, it would probably be that one. If you run a community enforcing rules at random, you aren’t enforcing rules, you’re arbitrarily picking things that are approved or outlawed according to personal preference and whimsy–again, not a very solid foundation for a community.
Finally, there’s no way of communicating with anyone in charge of that website about the nature of the rules. No appeals process, no way to ask how to change a story to make it acceptable, no way to ask ahead of time if this story or that story crosses a line. The NCMC says:
The NCMC aims to be fully automated. The largest tool required to achieve this is trust. Please don’t violate the spirit of the website by posting stories or comments from outside the guidelines.
That’s all fine and good, but that’s not how the website is run at all. Mystery webmaster’s rules are unclear, his enforcement of those rules is inconsistent, and so this strange approach of hands off / hands on is a recipe for disaster. It’s no surprise that the website is struggling with a massive spam problem which crippled it to the extent that comments have been disabled for months now–the webmaster can’t bear to see the website inundated with spam, and yet his doctrine of “automation” urges him to not become deeply involved with the comment process. The result? Just disable them altogether! No spam comments he has to deal with, and still perfectly automated–just a community completely devoid of constructive feedback. You might also notice that, for a while, there was an announcement that a new comment system was in the works, but that announcement has, not very surprisingly, disappeared. The webmaster’s desire to be hands off is running completely contrary to the stated goals of the website, because the website he wants to run requires him to be present. And so, it’s stuck in limbo.
My solution? If you want to be hands off, then be hands off! Let people post what they want. Stop your distance policing, and this strange compulsion to control every minutiae of the website without ever showing your face, or your hand. If you actually want to trust people, then fucking trust them. That, or if you want a community built around a set of firm standards, then be clear about what those standards are,enforce them consistently, and communicate with writers and readers about those standards to be sure they are understood.
So, that’s the upshot of what I was trying to say, and what I said rather poorly. Not that I’m not proud of that snarky little story, it was great fun to write, and I still snicker my way through the comment section on occasion.
Also, people were calling me a pedophile, and I wasn’t about to let that stand without a reply. Who would?
Is it possible to write erotic stories with characters or settings outside of your own race/ethnicity/culture without being racist or offensive, or should you just “write what you know”?
Well, there’s degrees, I think. The worst thing you can do is write other cultures in a way which is degrading, stereotypical and disrespectful to their cultural experience. Just…don’t do that.
Better than that, but still not great, is to essentially write what you know–remain within your own cultural box, and essentially turn a blind eye to everything else. This is, generally, what I tend to do, and what I’m struggling with. While it succeeds in not insulting people, at the same time, it means that I’m essentially limiting myself to the dominant white perspective which, to be honest, can grow boring as fuck. I mean, how many fucking older bears’ selfies in front of bathroom mirrors so they can raise their self esteem do I have to wade through on tumblr to fine one remotely interesting image that might make for a potential caption? Fuck, that’s exhausting.
And when I see a picture of a very attractive black/hispanic/asian/etc. man that I want to use, I always censor myself. How do I insert them into a story, addressing their race, but in a way that isn’t insulting, and I realized that the solution is to use those pictures in the same way I use every other picture that ends up in my caption.
To say that the approach is “colorblind” or something like that isn’t quite right. I don’t want to erase that racial quality from the stories, because that’s counter productive–it erases part of why that picture appeals to me. However, writing the characters born from those pictures in ways that they grow beyond the color of the skin is the goal. That said, I haven’t done this yet–but that’s how it fits in my head I suppose. Hope that makes sense.
Love Si’s conversion!! A great return from winter break! I gotta submit some ideas to you, but do you prefer a complete story, or an outline for you to perfect?
I take submissions in pretty much any form, from straight pictures with no real idea attached, to full blown, already written stories. It’s really up to you what you’d like to submit.

I’m answering my backlog this afternoon/evening, so if you have something to ask, now would be a fine time.
Principal Evans was an understanding man. He assumed that, at their core, all of his students wanted to learn, and that he could learn something from each of them, but when it came to Neil and his gang of rednecks, who spent their entire days out back in the parking lot, but Neil’s truck, smoking cigarettes and drinking, he figured he might need to make an exception to his usual nice tactics. Of course, they’d already tried detentions and suspensions–but before relying on expulsion, he would try one last heart to heart, and so he threw on his suit coat and left the school, walking over to where Neil and his redneck buddies were smoking and drinking in the parking lot.
“Boys, I’m going to have to ask you to go back to class,” he said.
“Fuck that–why in the fuck would I do that? Now go march your bitch ass back inside, cunt!” Neil said, and his friends burst out laughing.
“Where in the fuck did you learn your manners!” Principal Evans said, “Did your parents teach you anything? If you were my son, I’d–”
“You know, Mr. Evans, both of my parents died when I was young. I’ve been a fucking foster kid my whole life. Are you actually volunteering for the role?” Neil asked, grinning, “Because I know one thing for sure, anybody who’s gonna be my dad is gonna be a fucking smoker, that’s for sure.”
Principal Evans’ next inhale was full of smoke, and he nearly hacked up a lung, but he couldn’t pull the cigar that had appeared in his mouth out–he needed it. He needed the smoke so fucking bad. “What–what did you–”
“I also know that no dad of mine would be some slim, smooth fuck like you. He’d be fat as hell, and furry all over the place, with a great big beard.”
The principal felt his whole body’s balance shift, and he had to lean back to accommodate the gut rapidly growing out of his slim midsection. At the same time, he could feel hair spriouting all over his body, and especially his face, where a new beard filled in and grew out nearly an inch. He turned to run, but two of Neil’s burly friends had circled around behind him, grabbed him by the arms, and shoved him into one of the folding chairs they’d been sitting in.
“You know what else? No dad of mine would be working as a principal–I bet my dad dropped out of high school. He probably works in construction, getting a sweaty and dirty every day. He also wouldn’t wear a suit, he’d be a denim guy, and probably wear a Stetson.”
“What are ya…how’r ya doin’ this tah me?” Evans asked, looking down as the fabric of his suit shifted into a denim shirt and jeans, both of them caked with mud and grime from his job digging ditches for the city. Still, he wasn’t smart, so he didn’t exactly have many choices when it came to work, did he?
“But most importantly, any dad of mine would want me to be happy. He’d do anything I tell him to do–in fact, he’d probably be a slut for my cock, and for all of my friend’s cocks, begging us to fuck him and abuse him all day long. Because if your boy’s happy, you’re happy–right Pa?”
“F–Fuck, I…I mean, yeah son, but…” Evans said, but Neil already had his thick cock out, and after taking a big draw off his cigar, he got down on his knees in front of his boy and gave him a blowjob, massaging his own cock through the front of his grimy jeans, feeling Billy, one of his son’s friends, slip a hand down the back of his pants and slide a finger up his fat ass.
“Yeah Pa, that’s it–you’re gonna take real good care of me from now on, won’t you? You and all my other friends I’ve been making over the last few months. I have a feeling we’re gonna be one big happy clan before too long, right?”
Evans just nodded and looked up into his son’s smiling eyes. He loved making his boy happy, it was all he cared about in the whole world.
“W–What? Where am I?”
“Shhh…It’s ok, you’re safe here with me.”
“What the, let me go! What the fuck is this shit, are you a faggot or something? And…and what the hell are you wearing! That shit looks fucking gross, and I can fucking smell you across the room.”
“Well, you see, I saw you at the bar last night, and you were so cute, I just couldn’t resist bringing you home with me. In fact, you were quite agreeable the whole time, but I do love a struggle. Still, you’ll be plenty happy here in a few months.”
“A few…a few months! You freak–Help! Somebody help!”
“The nearest neighbors are miles away Clyde, it’s just you and me.”
“What are you–stay the fuck away from me!”
“Mmm…I do love stubble. And it’s so thick! I bet your beard will look amazing when it’s all grown in and ragged. Not sure if I’ll keep your head shaved though–we’ll have to see.”
“Oh my god, you fucking reek man, what the fuck–have you ever taken a shower?”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, you know. Go to sleep, piggy…Can you hear me, pig?”
“…Yes, master…”
“Pig, it would feel so good if, right now, you pissed yourself, right here where you’re sitting, and it would feel even better if you shit as well. Can you do that for me?…Oh yes, that’s good, look at that stain, and I can smell that shit already, that’s very good pig, you’re a very, very good pig, it feels good, doesn’t it? It feels good shitting and pissing yourself?”
“Yes master, it feels very good…”
“Now, I want you to remember how good this feels, and when you wake up, even though you’re disgusted with yourself, you’ll still feel aroused by how much of a dirty pig you’ve been. Now, wake up piggy.”
“W–what? I…what…”
“Look at that, what a dirty guy you are, pissing and shitting yourself in my house.”
“I didn’t, I mean–no, don’t–”
“I do love the feeling of warm shit, don’t you Carl? Look how hard that cock of yours is. I think someone likes being dirty. Now I have to piss, so open wide Carl–and you’ll even get to taste my filthy jock while I’m at it. Yes, you’re going to be staying here for a long time I think, but you’ll learn how much you love it soon enough.”
Peter was a good looking guy in his sixties, sure. More importantly, he could still get the ladies, although to be honest, Peter’s interests ran considerably younger than he was, preferably girls in their 20’s fresh from the two college campuses in the city. They all had daddy issues in the end after all, they just needed a proper older cock to sort them all out, whether they knew it or not. He was feeling particularly on tonight, and he decided to snap a quick selfie in the bar room mirror, but he didn’t know that the mirror sprites had been following his conquests, and decided to turn the tables on the cradle robber.
Peter checked the photo on his phone and looked down at it, puzzled. It looked nothing like him! It was some chubby kid standing in what looked like a bedroom, no hair at all, wearing a pair of briefs. Confused, Peter looked up at the mirror and only grew more confused. He wasn’t in the bar anymore, he was in the bedroom, and the reflection he was staring at was the boy in the picture on his smartphone, and his jaw dropped, unable to believe his eyes. Tentatively, he ran his hands along his heavy gut, amazed at just how smooth his skin was, as opposed to the hurry chest and abs he’d had moments before…right?
Things were starting to get fuzzy, and in his head he was clambering at the old life unraveling away in the mirror–the mirror! He walked up to it and pounded on it. It had to have something to do with that, but all he could hear was a distant chatter of laughter, before a heavy knock came on his bedroom door. “Petey? Are you up?” a deep, rough voice asked, and Peter felt his stomach turn…and his cock start to get hard at the sound of his father’s voice, “It’s late–shouldn’t you be in bed? You have school in the morning.”
“Y–yeah dad, I’m just getting into my PJs,” Peter said, and a second later his dad opened the door, and he barely managed to contain a gasp at the sight of the thick, burly man who came into his room, puffing on a cigar, wearing only a pair of briefs that might have been white the year before but which looked quite a bit more yellow and sour now. The cigar smoke, something he’d always hated in his past life, now felt somehow…comforting. It reminded him of his dad, of being close to him, his cock starting to tent in his briefs, his dad smiling down at him.
“You want me to tuck you in, Petey?” his dad asked, and Peter found himself nodding, walking over to his bed and climbing on it, his dad massaging his fat ass through his briefs. “Can’t believe you’re a senior in high school already. Still, you’ll always be my little boy, right Petey?”
“Yeah daddy…of course,” Peter said, biting his lip as his dad pulled down the back of his briefs and started rubbing the stiff fabric of his filthy briefs against his crack, feeling his dad’s hard cock catch on his hungry asshole, and he started grinding back gently, letting his dad know how much he needed him inside of him. His dad slid his cock in raw, but Peter knew how to take it, knew how to stay quiet, and his dad reached around, rubbing Peter’s short, fat cock until his son exploded in his briefs, and he came soon after, filling up his son’s ass. He stripped off Peter’s briefs and held the cum soaked front up to his nose and inhaled the smell of his son’s fresh cum, and sighed. “Gonna miss you if you head off to college next year son.”
“I…I’d miss you too daddy,” Petey said, “But I can always come visit…you know.”
“Heh, and I bet we can find you some substitute daddies to fuck you while you’re away, eh?” Petey had never been fucked by anyone other than his dad before, but the idea made him…hornier than he might have expected, and after a long kiss with his dad, he slid under the covers and his dad left the room, still holding his son’s soiled briefs in his hand. “Heh, boys and their daddy issues,” he said, and went to his own bedroom for the night.







