Are you into some of the kinks your write about?

Well, I suppose what you mean by “into”. Do they arouse me? Well yeah, or I wouldn’t write about them, but that kind of seems obvious. So, do I delve into any of these kinks in reality? For the most part, no. My writing is a fairly cathartic–I tell these stories so I feel less inclined to indulge in real life, which isn’t to say I think people shouldn’t indulge if they want to, mind you.

Mostly, I’m happily married, in a closed relationship, and he’s decidedly less interested in the sorts of stuff I write about than I am, which is fine. If he were interested, I suppose I’d have more opportunity to explore. I do find a few ways to indulge myself on occasion, and might keep a well soiled jockstrap around for when I need an extra little kick…

My dad is such a prick. He makes fun of me because I’m not as muscular as he is, and even steals my goddamn protein shakes the time. I think that if he knew I was gay he’d pummel me. Still i think I’ve found a way around that little problem.

See I’ve been messing around with many chemistry teacher at school. He’s this chubby bear of a man, and an awesome bottom. I told him about my father, and he suggested a little concoction he uses to pack on the fat himself. I replaced my protein shakes with it, and dad is already putting on weight. The aphrodisiac is just a bonus, really.

Yeah, he can’t explain why he suddenly needs my cum so bad–but he’s been sneaking into my room every night now at least once to suck me off while I “sleep.” I think he’s starting to notice the weight he’s packing on too, but it’s already too late–the shakes are highly addictive–Hell, I should know, since I can’t stop drinking them either. Yeah, that was part of the deal–my teacher wanted me fat too. Still, I think it’s worth it, just to bring my dad down with me, and my teacher loves my fat cock too much to make me a bottom. Looks like by the end of the year, I’ll have two big piggies to fuck. I can’t wait–even if I’ll probably be over 500 pounds by then too.

Dr. Hendricks’ methods were strange, but Rick couldn’t deny that he was more relaxed than he’d ever been in his life. He’d been skeptical about hypnosis at first, but after the first session many of his concerns evaporated, though Hendricks could tell that the stress in Rick’s life needed drastic reduction.

Next came the pills–so many pills. Hendricks was vague about what each one did, and Rick noticed quite a few strange side effects as the weeks passed. He put on weight, for one, and he noticed that his cock and balls were shrinking, but he was calmer, and maybe even a little…more submissive? 

Hendricks still wasn’t satisfied–Rick was the most anal-retentive subject he’d ever seen, and the anal exercises helped alleviate that, but he deemed that full castration was the only real option. Rick had resisted, at first, but why would the doctor lead him astray? And now, whenever the doctor licked his smooth crotch, ramming ever larger dildos into his pussy, Rick knew he’d made the right decision.

I make a new one every Bear Run I go to–I never get tired of it. It’s the first timers I like the most, the ones who don’t run in the usual circles, the ones desperate for friends and attention. They’re always nervous with me at first, but they so want to be liked–to be needed–and I can give them that, even if it’s never in the way they expect. 

I ply them with liquor–with compliments. In turn, they open up about themselves, as though I care one lick about who they are. They come up to my room, and then the fun starts. That first night, breaking them down, destroying them, remaking them–by morning they’re begging for it, and a whole new man walks out my door. 

Bareback only. Fistpigs. Painplay. Urinals. Toilets. Nothing is too extreme for the whores I craft. The second day, they endure heavy use, and they revel in it. If there are any doubts, any vestiges of their old selves remaining, they’re wiped out soon enough–the pleasure is too much–and people need them so much, how could they refuse?

The bidding process is silent, discrete. I introduce them to their new owner on the final day, and they leave–happy slaves all. Finally needed, just like they wanted.

“Yeah, who’s my big bear?”

“I’m *hic* yer big bear…”

“You sure are, god, look how fast you’re growing, love those fucking stretch marks. Probably can’t even zip up these coveralls of yours, but you like showing off your belly don’t you?”

“Yeah, fuckin’ love it, love my belly…”

“Gonna make ya even bigger when I take you home. Got more of my special brew, I’m gonna feed you a whole keg of it, make you so fuckin’ fat you won’t be able to move, so fucking dumb you won’t be able to think about anything beyond eating, drinking and sucking my cock.”

“Fuck.”

“Gonna whore you out too. Gonna throw house parties, gonna let my friends use you as their personal cumdump. Would you like that, slut?”

“I’d…I’d *hic* I’d do anythin’ fer ya, Mikey. I love you.”

“Fucking pig, god you were so fucking easy. Gonna love breaking in that hole of yours tonight.”

“I’m so horny Mikey, I…yeah, take me home, fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

Let’s get home then, pig, and the real fun’ll start.“

He’s looking at me–please wear me today sir, please–it’s been weeks, I’m so hungry. He can sense it, my need, my desperation, and as if too tease me, he pulls me out, running his hand along my mesh, my elastic–his jock, I’m his jock.

I wasn’t always a jockstrap, but those memories are so far away, so distant, I wonder now if I only dream of being human to pass the time between wearings. Still, it wasn’t simply a tease, first one leg, and then the other, and I squirm a bit, so hungry, and as soon as I snap around him, I start working his cock, and my voracious hunger surprises him a bit, because he needs to lean against the wall.

“I see someone was a bit hungry,” he says, but doesn’t tell me to stop. His cock is hard now, distending my pouch, and I milk him, absorbing all the precum I can, and then he shoots, and I suck down his cum as well, and in moments, I am as dry as ever.

“Is that enough, or do you want some more?”

He knows I could never get enough. A moment later, he pisses right into me, but I know better than to let even a single drop escape myself, and when he finishes, I am slightly damp–satisfied for the moment, and pleased that, for at least a day, I will be close to my master, where I belong.

When I told my dad to “Man up,” during an argument we had a while back, I hadn’t expected the universe to take my insult quite so literally. Every day after that though, there was some small change to him, at first nearly imperceptible, but now…well, things are getting extreme–the smoking, the southern accent, the pickup truck.

Worse, I…I think it’s rubbing off on me. My clothes changed along with his a few weeks ago, my Hollister and A&F replaced by flannel, second hand jeans and muddy work boots. I’ve picked up his accent, and when he started smoking cigars, well, I got pulled into that habit too. I’ve tried to tell him what’s happening, but it’s like he doesn’t even notice it. Still we’ve been fighting a lot less, and we’ve become a lot closer, but that’s worrying me too.

I don’t know what changed today, but he keeps…looking at me in the strangest way. Mom disappeared a few days ago, leaving us alone, but that stare…makes my cock jump, and I…I want him, and…I want him to want me too, how fucked up is that? And I’m worried that when he gets home from the construction site tonight, and after we’ve had a few beers and cigars on the couch, he’s going to want my ass…and I don’t think I’m going to be able to say no.

Ah, another satisfying conversation with Gareth on the CB. I haven’t spoken to him for a while–apparently his travels haven’t brought him through my neck of the woods lately, but as soon as he can, he dials into my frequency, begging me to let him shower. It’s been weeks, he tells me, but his fear of water just gets worse. He reeks, he says, but I console him. Surely he must enjoy it, I tell him.

He eventually admits that he does, and soon I have him sniffing his pits and jacking off on the road. He begs me to stop, to let him go, but then he’s back to his usual piggy self. Still, it was a bit unfair for him to never get a shower.

He tried not to listen when I told him to piss himself, when I told him that the only kind of showers he really wants anyway are golden ones from biker gangs and other dirty truckers like himself. He fought for a little, but then he did it–pissed his pants on the road, and came right after. I talked him into two more orgasms before he slipped out of range again, but he’s gonna be plenty soaked from here on out. Dang, I should’ve had him swing by my place–now I have a hard-on and it ain’t gonna suck itself. Oh hold on, there’s Clyde. That pig’ll do anything for a cock in his cunt–I’ll meet him out at Indian Crest and give him a good fucking instead, and maybe ram my fist up there for good measure.

200 Followers!

Thanks all, for following me, even when there’s a dearth of content (like now). It isn’t that I’m not working on stuff–just that, well, none of it is done. I should have some stuff to post soon, however, I’ve got a decent backlog of photo captions–so how about a week of those to tide you all over, and give you something to enjoy in the meantime? Thanks again–I mean it.

Metawriting #5 – Character Motivations

Alright, it’s been a little while since I wrote one of these entries, so if you want a refresher, here are some links to the previous four episodes in the series.

#1 – The Point of Intersection

#2 – Me Versus Them

#3 – Dominance and Submission

#4 – A Question of Fetish

***

If someone were to ask me what I think the most common flaw in MC/TF stories is, I would probably say that would be character motivations, that is, a good story will give us some sort of reason why the characters are doing the things they are doing–but more often than not, most stories skip over this entirely, or provide us with one of several well worn tropes as a superficial motivation to drive a plot. I, certainly, am plenty guilty of this in some of my stories, especially in my shorter/earlier works. Furthermore, it’s also worth noting that stories can still be enjoyable without solid motivations for its characters, but motivation is what separates a decent story from a great one–and so still is something worth striving for.

So, why is motivation important? Certainly this is a question relevant to all fiction, and it generally arises in more mainstream discussions concerning the difference between plot-driven and character-driven stories, with the latter generally regarded as superior to the former. In plot-driven stories, characters are generally reactionary–things happen, and the characters leap in response to the various events at hand. Motivations here are generally painted in broad strokes, and can often be reduced to “I need to survive these events,” or “I need to protect some X from these events.” There’s little room for characters to grow or become more than dolls being manipulated by the author. On the other hand, character-driven stories contain events which are set in motion by the characters in order to bring about some sort of targeted desire. This desire, i.e. their motivation, can be far more varied and precise if the character is actively pursuing something, rather than reacting to events beyond their control. It allows for deeper, more sympathetic characters, and can accommodate a wider variety of themes and genres than plot driven stories.

Now, depending on the type of MC/TF story one is writing, different problems arise concerning motivations. Typically, I would say that “sub” stories face one problem, while “dom” stories face a different one. Starting with “sub” stories, their issue is that the focus character, who is being dominated by another, is often inherently passive and reactionary, and as such, often impossibly flat and boring, eventually becoming little more than a stand-in for the reader to fill on their own, with themselves or someone else. While not necessarily bad, this kind of story tends to be forgettable. The easiest way to correct this is to give the character a chance to react and resist the change, generally through some sort of redemptive test, or weaknesses in the dom character’s powers–however, this does little to change the underlying problem, which is that the character’s motivation is still nothing more than mere survival. The best sub stories manage to instill some sort of motivation in their victim beyond this, but this is far from easy.

“Dom” stories don’t have this problem, because the primary character is actively changing another. Their motivations are already more interesting by simple virtue of story focus. However, their problem is one of trope–that is, three or four motivations are recycled so often as to render this entire side of the genre monotonous. The worst offenders include:

  • Revenge – Oh dear god, how many times do I have to read a story about some guy taking revenge against some bully who wronged them in the past? I admit to relying on this crutch in much of my early writing, but have tried to wean myself from it bit by bit. Still, a strong majority of the stories on the NCMC, CYOC and MCstories are revenge motivated. Is there no other human drive that we as authors might be able to tap into?
  • Make me perfect – The first instinct of the character is to use their new found powers to give themselves the perfect body, the perfect life, and usually the perfect lover. While these stories often attempt to inject conflict with some sort of karmic or ironic twist, generally they are thinly veiled wish fulfillment, and not all that interesting to read. 
  • Megalomania – Why is the dom character transforming people? Because he can. These characters have no depth, other than a sheer dislike for other people’s original minds and bodies. Flat, boring–these stories tend to be little more than vehicles for various fetishes, and only become worse when coupled with revenge fantasies, as they often are.

These tropes are easy, I understand that. They are also fairly universal. However, they have become so overused that I find myself growing exhausted as I read stories which rely on them. The occasional story which utilizes some other motivation is generally a refreshing burst amidst the monotony, whether it be well written or not. And don’t get me wrong, I have used all of these tropes myself in the past, and they generally are my least favorite of what I’ve put out, and which also ought to demonstrate that I have no easy answer to this problem. There is no magic bullet, no solution other than not being lazy.

So then, what would be “better” motivations? Or, at least, motivations which haven’t been used so much as to be rendered entirely stale? Moving beyond these tropes requires going back to the heart of what this genre is about, and seeing what other sorts of motivations we might derive from it’s basic function. MC/TF is, at it’s core, about looking at the world, looking at ourselves, and looking at others, and fundamentally rejecting what we see. In reality, of course, it stops there, but in fantasy, characters can then be given the power to remake the world as they might see fit. In fact, each of those tropes above can be derived from this drive–when we change others because they disgust us we beget revenge, when we render ourselves perfect we harbor something unhappy regarding ourselves, and when we control the world we obviously tend towards megalomania. In fact, it could be the case that these tropes simply “are” these desires distilled alone. So how might we go about refreshing them? I’ll discuss one way in the next essay.