I’m still taking questions today as to my possible collection of stories that I’m thinking of putting together, hopefully for sale on amazon and ibooks for less than ten bucks. At the moment, I’m trying to gauge interest, as to whether people would buy a collection of mostly new stories from me, including a long novella, as well as answering questions about form, content, etc. What are your thoughts?
novagain answered: I would gleefully jump all over this. Just out of curiosity, what kind of format would we be talking about? iBooks, Kindle, etc?
The service I’m looking at would have it listed on both Apple and Amazon, assuming that they wouldn’t reject my stories on content grounds. I’m still looking into that. On the other hand, I might also just produce a high quality PDF myself, which I can distribute independently. It all sort of depends on interest, I think, and whether I could actually get my stuff listed.
I assume you mean my schedule on tumblr? No, it shouldn’t affect it at all. As for commissions, I’d likely plow through my remaining long commissions and then get started on the stories. I would continue to take short commissions throughout.
Well, I’ve thought about it, I suppose, but interest seemed a bit low, the last time I polled on the subject, and it simply isn’t a priority for me. Plus, I don’t have a good idea for one, which doesn’t help. It’s certainly something I plan on doing in the future, but if one happens, I’d pin it for January or February, to be honest.
So I’ve had an idea rolling around in my head as of late, that I would like to put together a collection of stories to sell online. I don’t want it to be a collection of stuff I’ve already written, but rather I’d like to write a new novella (about the size of “Letters From Prison” or “City of Bears: Series One”) and also pair it with four or five short stories, some brand new, and a few older stories that I’d like to fix up and revise. That said, if no one’s interested in buying it, then going to all the effort of writing this much new content would be better put elsewhere.
So, here’s the question. Would you be interested in buying a digitally distributed collection of mostly new content from me, priced under ten bucks?
My New Suspenders Part 3
It was all formal wear–and I settled finally on some pants and a shirt that didn’t seem too fogyish, and a tie…because it felt…right. I dressed myself, finding it more comfortable to pull the waist of my pants up over my gut, and then found some socks and shoes to wear, to complete the outfit. As I dressed myself, the voice gnawing at me to find something to smoke kept getting louder, and I was desperate. I didn’t care anymore what might happen when I was dressed, I just needed a pipe, or a cigar, or hell, even a cigarette–just something.
When I was fully dressed, the third set of suspenders I’d found hanging in the closet strapped on me, the door was unlocked, but no one outside the door. Still, I needed to smoke more than anything, so I went downstairs into the den, and there he was, the submissive I’d been chatting with online, and he was completely naked, aside from a leather collar and cuffs, and he said, “What would you like daddy? Pipe or cigar?”
“What are you doing to me? How are you doing this?” I asked, but he didn’t reply, just opened a humidor and pulled out a cigar, clipped the end, and walked over, slipping it into my mouth. I puffed it to life, and from the first breath I just felt…so relaxed. I let him pull me over and settle me in a large armchair.
“Don’t worry daddy, you still have to grow a little more, but I’m here to help,” he started rubbing my belly and I groaned, feeling him keep loosening my suspenders as my gut grew even larger, and then he had my fly open and had swallowed my cock, and I let out a deep groan, noticing that the hair I could see in my beard had turned nearly white.
***
“Fucking take daddy’s cock boy!” I heard myself say, and I realized I had blacked out again. I didn’t know where I was, but my boy was bent over in front of me, and I kept fucking him hard, feeling my fat gut ripple and bounce as I plowed him deep, smoke pouring from my nose and mouth as I did.
“Yeah daddy! Fuck your slave son, fuck me hard!”
“You’re gonna get it, how about I ram my fist up your ass after I breed your hole? Would you like that?”
“Oh yeah daddy, I want to feel you fist me so bad…”
I looked over, unable to stop myself, and saw a mirror in the wall. My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I see I’m in some dungeon–probably in the basement of the house, and I’m…huge. Just massively fat, white hair all over my body, a thick white beard covering my face, and nearly no hair left on my head. My suit is gone–instead, I’m decked out in a leather harness and shorts held up by leather suspenders–I’m still growing, I can feel it, and I stare at myself, locking eyes with myself, and feel the last bit of me slipping away. I tense up and cum deep in my son’s hole, yeah, my son, my real son…
***
I stretch in my bed, feeling the silk sheets against my old skin–and give my massive belly a rub down. Fuck, I’m huge…but I don’t know why that seems strange–I’ve been this fat for years now, after all. I heft myself up, feeling my gut sag down between my legs. What am I now–five hundred? Six hundred? Who cares, it felt wonderful. I can smell my son cooking in the kitchen, and I’m starving. I pull on some boxer shorts and some suspenders (after lighting my first cigar of the morning) and lumber downstairs, where I see him, naked as the day he was born, cooking my massive breakfast. I love him so much, I’m so lucky to have such an obedient sexy son as my slave. I may be old, but there’s still plenty of good fucks left in me–in fact, I think I’m going to need one right after breakfast.
My New Suspenders Part 2
I don’t know what happened, I just don’t know. One second, I was closing and locking the door, and then the next…the next I was back inside, but I knew time had passed, the light was different through the windows, but where had I gone?
I looked down and saw I was holding a shopping bag, but it didn’t have any food in it–apparently I’d never made it to the store. Looking inside, I saw a small wooden box, and a few pouches of some black dried plant. I thought it was tea at first, but when I smelled it I knew–it was tobacco, and in the box, a pipe.I just stared at it, and my mouth felt funny for some reason, and then I was fumbling it out of the box and hastily tamping the tobacco into the bowl, and I have just enough time to wonder what the hell I’m doing before I light it and take a deep draw of smoke…
***
Fuck! I’m shooting, and the room, the room is so smoky, and I’m at the computer, and I’m chatting with him again. I blacked out again I realize, and stand up, and see that I’m still dressed in what I was wearing, the cum soaking into my shirt, and try to pull the pipe from my mouth, but it won’t budge…and I feel something new–hair. I rush to the bathroom, and I see that I’m changing again–a thick beard has already filled in all over my face, but I still have most of my hair, thankfully.
My pants are tight at my waist, and I loosen my suspenders. My gut is growing yet again, and I know it won’t stop until I grow out of these clothes too. Panicking, I rush back to the computer, puffing a trail of smoke behind me, and see the last message is an address. I don’t want to go, but what choice do I have, really? He has me, and he knows it. I grab my coat and leave, hoping this whole situation doesn’t get much worse.
***
I find my way there, and it’s a house–nothing strange about it aside from the fact that it’s a big damn house, and I stand in the yard for a few minutes, watching it, looking for any sign of life. My clothes are tight on my body now, and the suspenders are almost at their loosest. It takes me a few minutes to realize my hand is in the pocket of my jacket, gripping a key. The house looks empty, I haven’t seen anyone in the windows, and so with a deep breath of pipe smoke (fuck I love smoking now, and it’s starting to turn me on more and more–I don’t think I can stop, even if I wanted to) and head for the door, test the key, find that it works, and step inside.
The house is indeed empty–but completely furnished. I wander through the first floor, and find a standard living room and kitchen, a dining room and den–where on one wall is a spacious rack of pipes. I go upstairs, and find a master’s bedroom with the closets full of men’s clothing. I try to adjust the suspenders again, but they’re at the very end, and I find I can at last remove all my clothes. I look at myself in a mirror on the wall–I’m fat, and hairy–so god damn hairy. I look at least forty now, and the clothes in the closet, well, they seem even older. I try to leave the bedroom, but find the door has shut behind me, and locked. I pound on it, but it doesn’t open, and I look at the closet. I know what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t want to–unfortunately, I don’t have much choice soon. My pipe is going out, and as soon as it does, I know I’m going to have to find something to smoke, and fast. What choice do I have? I start pawing though the closet, looking for something to wear.
***
To be continued: Part 3 incoming in a bit.
My New Suspenders Part 1
What can I say? I like wearing suspenders–is that weird? Well, maybe if you’re just using them to hold up your pants, but hell, I wear them pretty much all the time, even if I’m just hanging out in my underwear, taking pictures to show to the various guys I chat with when I’m bored and horny.
One guy though, he’s this young submissive guy who likes talking about how he wants a daddy to serve. In all of our chats, he likes to pretend that I’m growing older (and fatter, which is weird), before I pin him down and rape his ass. Well, he knows all about my suspender obsession, and so he sent me this new pair for my birthday–it was last week, but they arrived last week. I joked with him about it, but all he’d say was that “he hoped it would be worth the weight” (and yes, he did misspell it). Still, they’re a bit big–I have to tighten them all the way up to my shoulders to get them to fit.
***
Ok, so I don’t know what’s going on with this, but I woke up this morning, and I’m…pudgy. I’d had abs yesterday, and now I have a gut, what the fuck? I tried to take these new suspenders off too (I accidentally fell asleep wearing them somehow) and I couldn’t even undo the clasps, but I had to loosen them, given my sudden increase in size…but as soon as I did, I felt my stomach gurgle, and right before my eyes, it started inflating again.
I ran to my computer, and sure enough, the guy who sent them to me was online, and I wanted to know what he’d done to me. He just laughed, and told me to keep an eye out for another package. It came later that day, sure enough, and inside…well, I’d had to keep loosening the suspenders, alright? In fact, by the time the package came, well, I was definitely fat, I’ll just say that–none of my clothes could possibly fit me, the underwear I was wearing was cutting into me painfully, and the suspenders were as loose as I could get them. I opened the box and found a collection of clothes inside that definitely did not match my age, but as soon as I touched them, I head a click, and the suspenders fell off me, letting me take off my underwear, finally. But still, I’m not going to put those clothes on, no way, no how.
***
It’s been days now. I’ve missed work, but if I miss any more, they’re going to fire my ass, and my pantry is empty. I took out the clothes and inspected them–they were pretty normal, just underwear, jeans, a shirt, and another set of suspenders bigger than the last, which were already hooked to the jeans, and I can’t get them off for the life of me. The guy keeps messaging me, but I haven’t replied yet, not since that last conversation. He just keeps telling me to put them on, that I’ll enjoy it, but fuck, I don’t want to be fat! But I have to go out, I can’t stay in here for fucking ever either.
It’ll be quick, I decide. I’ll them on, go to the store, stock up, and then come back and take them off before I can change more. I pull on the briefs, the jeans, the shirt, tucked it in, pulled up the suspenders, and left without looking in the mirror–I didn’t want to know, I’d decided, I’d just leave and come back as quick as I could.
***
To be continued: Parts 2 and 3 will arrive later this evening.
The hypnotist walked through the house, having just finished breakfast, and he figured it was time to check up on each of his slaves in training, to see how they were doing today, and direct their morning training. He decided to start off with his cub, in the first room on the left. The three men had already been trained to wake at exactly six in the morning, and it was now a quarter after. He knocked, and then stepped in, finding Rick just about done getting dressed. The hypnotist had already convinced him that wearing anything other than leather and rubber was physically painful, and so when he stepped in, he found the young bear in his leather harness, pulling on some tight leather pants, but as soon as he saw the hypnotist, he fell to his knees, his head bowed, though the hypnotist could see he was still resisting his compulsions more than he would have liked.
“Good morning cub, how are you doing this morning?”
“I’m well…sir,” Rick said, fighting with the last word, but it slipped out anyway.
“Feeling a bit resistant this morning, I sense?”
“I’m…I’m not going to, I’m going to get out of here, I will, just you fucking…fucking wait…sir…” Rick sputtered, and he tried to get up from where he was kneeling, but couldn’t.
“It seems like the head says no, but the body says yes,” the hypnotist said, “Hmmm…well that’s too bad–I know how you get when you don’t have your morning cum, the withdrawal is just awful. But since you’re obviously not in the mood, I suppose I’ll leave you to stew for a bit.”
“No!” Rick shouted, “No–no, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t please, no I need it, don’t leave, sir.”
The hypnotist sized him up, the fear in his eyes delightful. The cum addiction was well in place at least–if he didn’t swallow at least three loads a day, Rick could barely function. For him, quitting cum was akin to quitting heroin. But still, the cub needed to be taught some sort of lesson for his insubordination. “Leathercub, sleep,” he said, and Rick’s eyes went blank, his body going a bit limp, but he remained on his knees. “Slave, can you hear me?”
“Yes sir, what do you desire, sir?”
“Rick is acting up again, isn’t he?”
“Yes sir, he is angry today, sir. He’s scared, because he’s losing the desire to fight back. He’s starting to like being here–he’s starting to like being your leathercub, sir.”
“I see…well, I suppose we’ll have to punish Rick for his disobedience, won’t we?”
“If that is what you wish, sir.”
“Alright. From now to the time I release you, whenever Rick tries to resist you, I give you leave to whip him into shape–literally. Ten lashes across the back, but instead of pain, both of you will instead feel the strikes as intense, sexual pleasure, and on the tenth lash, you will cum spontaneously, understand?”
“Yes sir, I understand and obey.”
“Good. Leathercub, awake.”
Rick shook his head, a bit dazed, and refocused on the hypnotist above him, and he said, “Very well Rick, I will give you my cum, if you lick my boots clean first.
“No, no I’m…” Rick said, but as soon as he did, he stood up, walked over to the wall where the whip hung, knelt back down and started raining blows on his back, but instead of screaming, each lash brought out moans and groans of pleasure, until on the tenth blow, he came forcefully all over the floor, panting, his back aching, and unable to stop himself, Rick got down and licked up the cum as he had been trained. It took two more series of lashings before Rick relented, and licked the hypnotist’s boots clean, and by then, the master was so turned on by Rick’s self-abuse that he came in less than a minute.
“Very good slave, though you’re a bit slow. Spend the morning thinking about your enslavement, and how much pleasure it gives you to submit to me.”
“Yes…sir…” Rick said, and the hypnotist left, checking the clock. It was now almost seven–he was behind schedule. Hugo, or rather, Helen, would be best to check in on next, he decided, and stopped at her door, giving a knock as usual, before stepping in. The room was frilly and pink, decorated for a girl, but Hugo was on the bed, crying his eyes out, and when he saw the hypnotist enter, he let out a girlish cry, and backed up in fear. “Please no more, sir…please, I can’t take it. I don’t want to be a girl, I don’t! I don’t!”
The hypnotist sighed–still no progress. He’d been doing well with Hugo, but a few days ago he came across a mental block of some kind that he just hadn’t been able to work around. It was going to take some work this one, but he knew he was close. “Sleep, Helen,” he said, and Hugo stopped crying, and went limp. “Are you there Helen? Tell me, what’s the matter with Hugo?”
“Hello sir,” a girlish voice said, “Hugo’s scared, sir.”
“Well I know that Helen, but what is he scared of? Is it me? You couldn’t tell me last time, but you said you’d talk to him about it.”
Hugo shook his head, “No, he’s not scared of you, he scared of…of his dad, I think. Of what his dad would think of him. He’s scared of being a disappointment.”
Hugo had kind of expected it to be a family matter, and he had an idea he wanted to try out, that might help. “Alright Helen, here’s what I want you to do. I want you and Hugo to go to sleep now, as I count backwards from five. Five…you’re feeling very tired…four…you’re drifting off now, you’re losing grip on the world…three…you’re asleep now, but falling deeper…two…so deep now, and you can feel yourself entering a dream…one…you’re deeply asleep, but dreaming, and you’re lying awake in Hugo’s bed, alright?”
“Yes…sir…” Hugo muttered.
“Now, here’s what I want you to dream. I want you to dream that Hugo’s father comes into his room, and admits to him that he never wanted a son–but that he wanted a daughter. And as he admits that, Hugo finds himself changing, becoming more womanly, and he starts making love to his father, sucking his cock, and then begging his father to fuck him like a slut, and when his father cums, you will cum in real life as well, and then I want you to dream the same thing all over again. This dream is going to feel so real, that when he wakes up, it will feel like it had actually happened to him in real life, understand?”
“Yes…sir…” Hugo muttered again, and then said, “Dad…what?…Really? Oh…oh daddy…”
The hypnotist watched Hugo start grinding his cock into the pink sheets of his bed. The dream probably wouldn’t be enough, but it would help break down the wall. The hypnotist didn’t think Hugo would be able to get past it this way though, and sighing, he figured he would probably have to make Hugo believe that the hypnotist was actually his father. Not that he minded–it was just more work than he’d really wanted to do. For now though, he could dream for the rest of the day–and he could go check up on Gary. First though, he had to go get the equipment that had arrived the day before–some new workout equipment for his muscleslut.
He went downstairs, returning with a large box which he carted down the hall to Gary’s room, gave a knock, and stepped inside, bringing to box with him. The smell of sweat and musk was already heavy in the room, as Gary pressed his weights. Of all three, he was the easiest to deal with, actually–he barely resisted his workouts anymore, and the vanity and mental drain was taking hold rather well. He let Gary work a bit longer, the hypnotist admiring his smooth body. He was happy he’d decided to take the tanning slowly–he was developing a nice, bronze color, but didn’t look fake at all, and with all the hair permanently removed from his body, he looked like a statue, almost.
“Gary, take a break–I have a gift for you.”
Gary finished his set first, the hypnotist waiting patiently, and then he hefted himself up off the bench and lumbered over, a stupid grin spread across his face, “Mornin’ sir–How’s you today?”
“I’m good Gary. I have a new piece of equipment for you that I think you’re going to love.”
Gary grinned wider, and the hypnotist watched him open the box and pull out a low step, on which a massive dildo had been attached, big as a man’s forearm, and Gary just blinked at it. “What I supposed to do with it…sir?”
“It’s for when you do squats, Gary. Here, set it on the ground, and I’ll help you with it.” Gary put it down, and the hypnotist lubed up the dildo, before walking Gary through the exercise, how he needed to squat down and take as much of the dildo as he could, before standing back up, and that was a single rep. It didn’t take long for Gary to get used to the rhythm, and he was happily squatting up and down on the massive dildo, a big grin plastered across his face, his four inch cock rock hard from the stimulation, but Gary didn’t even notice. He’d completely forgotten that he had a cock–all he cared about now was getting bigger, and pleasing his master, though feeling the dildo ram into his prostate over and over did feel good, and with a grunt, his cock spurted a load of cum out onto the floor, and satisfied, the hypnotist left him to the rest of his workout. It was going to be a lot of work still, but by the end of the year he was going to have three wonderful hypnoslaves in tip top shape for the convention. The other hypnomasters were going to be so jealous! He couldn’t wait.
Nope, that’s not what I said at all. That gator story was a commission, and I’ve done rabbits and dogs and hogs on commission too. That said, it isn’t my comfort zone, or where I think I write my best stuff. I’m always happy to expand and get better though, and if you have an idea, pitch it to me–I doubt I’ll say no, or be unable to make it work.
Bracken's Corner 