Well, I have a lot to say about all of those topics. How about I go ahead and start writing the occasional entry about writing TF/MC fiction? That might be the best way to get some of those tips you want.
Author: wesleybracken8258
any tips for a wanna-be erotic fiction writer?
Well, the least helpful advice (but still the best) I can offer is to write more. That’s really the only way to get better at all. Still, you probably were looking for something more detailed, but I can’t offer much else with what you’ve given me.
The second best advice I can offer is to read with awareness. Find stories you like and figure out why you like them, and the same for the stories you dislike. Then, try to copy those elements you enjoy and improve/avoid the aspects you don’t. Then, steal the techniques and make them you own.
I could give you more personal advice if you told me a bit more about what you want to write, or send me a link to what you have written already.
Today’s Story Cancelled
Real life stuff piled up on me again, and I have the next part of “Gifts from a Magi” about halfway finished. I’ll probably post it tomorrow, and the third and final part on Friday. Also, I would expect there to be a week of photo captions next week again. I need to get some work done on my long commissions…and I might be unemployed and looking for work, too. Hopefully not, but we’ll see.
One Change #4 – Words
***WARNING: This episode contains scat.***
The Changer rarely researched his targets very heavily–he found that the more he got to know someone’s history, the harder it was, in a way, to figure out what to change about them. It was too hard to try and anticipate what would happen most times, so usually, he would wander around various cities, listening to what people were saying. He secretly enjoyed making people’s stupid, thoughtless words come true. Like in Terry’s case.
neck
Terry lived in a modest, city apartment in a nice, generally clean neighborhood. His office was only a few minutes away, and he was right in the middle of a culturally vibrant downtown. He hated it, or at least, that’s what he told everyone in conversation. He hated the smell, the homeless, the cramped living spaces, the prices. The first thing he was going to do when he retired, he said, was move miles away from every city. The Changer wondered why he should wait, and decided to give Terry what he said he wanted.

The Terry who woke up in the small, filthy, single wide trailer had never been to a city in his life. The closest city was nearly fifty miles away, and it was a far cry from the metropolis he’d lived in before his change. The Changer had expected him to be just as miserable here as in the city, but to his surprise, the opposite was true. The new Terry loved his quiet, simple life working on cars as the only gas station in a twenty mile radius. Still, not everyone ended up meaning what they said.

Frank loved picking fights with people, especially his neighbors, and he had a mouth which let loose any number of horrid, disgusting insults at the people around him. It was just a way for him to feel important by knocking down everyone else around him. The Changer happened past while he was engaged in one of his cross-fence shouting matches, and decided that he would immediately come to embody the last insult he hurled during the fight. Now, as far as Frank was concerned, “shitface,” was a reasonably mild insult, but as soon as those last words were uttered, Frank felt a strange compulsion.
In Frank’s case, The Changer had decided the change shouldn’t be retroactive, but only affect him from the present onward. His obsession with shit was sudden, very strong, and by the weekend, he was hosting an orgy with all of his new friends at his home. The Changer hoped that all the shit he would be eating from now on would keep his mouth busy.

I love your stories! If posting here daily messes up your full length work, then cut back.
Actually, doing this blog has helped me stay productive, more than anything, because it forces me to actually sit down and write something most everyday. But the truth is, I’m a slow writer when it comes to my longer stories, and whether or not I’m posting here wouldn’t make much difference. At least this way I have something for people most every day–instead of just a few times a year.

Yeah, that’s it, lick my boot faggot. I told told you those cuffs were magic–the cop whose uniform I swiped didn’t believe me either, but he’s too busy suckin’ cock at the rest area to do anything now. Yeah, that’s right, that guy whose face you fucked? He was a cop–now he’s mine, and you’re mine too. The question, though, is what kind of faggot you’re gonna be?
Well, you sure do love that boot, so how about we make you a foot faggot? Yeah, you’re gonna love it, cleaning and shining men’s boots with your tongue, licking the sweat and grime from between their toes, sucking their filthy socks, and the only time you’ll cum is with a foot up your ass–how does that sound?
…Why am I doing this? Because I hate faggots, but if you’re here, then you might as well be useful. All my buddies are gonna know you’re here, ready to shine their shoes and clean their feet whenever they want. Now get that boot off and suck my sock–I haven’t got all night to get you trained.

“No Officer, you know what? I don’t really think it matters how fast I was going. I think what really matters is how good that rubber feels against your skin. You look surprised–don’t you remember putting your uniform on earlier this evening, thinking about how hot you look with the blue latex pulled tight against your muscles? Go on, rub them–damn those webbed gloves are really pervy. I bet you’re a total pervert, aren’t you? You’re just a giant rubber pig cop, aren’t you? Don’t shake your head like that–I mean, it’s pretty obvious from that mask you’re wearing. Go on, grunt. Grunt like a pig while you rub that hard cock in your rubber pants. Now, you wanted to ask me something officer? What was it?”
“Sir, *grunt* I need you *snort* to step out of your car, Sir.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I’ve been a very bad pig Sir, *grunt* I need a cock up my ass sir, I need it bad. Please *oink* give me your cum sir? Please?”
“Well, alright. I guess I can spare a moment for a pervy pig cop like you…”
I love all of your stories and they are the only things i look forward to see on ncmc, would you be opposed to writing another raunchy pig story about a confident and cocky guy getting his just desserts? i know it seems vague but i know you out of anyone can take that story in many cool and interesting directions
Thanks. That’s a pretty common theme in a lot of my stuff, so I’m sure there will be many more stories along those lines. If you did have something more precise in mind, I’m always open for tumblr commissions as well.
Would love to see more development of the Slutitis story… Fun idea with great potential. How is it contagious?
You know, I’d mostly meant the word Slutitis as a play on the whole doctor/patient theme–I hadn’t actually thought it might be a disease!
I don’t know, to be honest–I hadn’t really thought about developing it further.
Gifts from a Magi – Part 1
Jake had a problem. Well, not so much a problem as a set of circumstances which were conspiring together to make him as unhappy as possible. First, was the fact that he was graduating this coming weekend, ending his college career and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He had no job lined up, barely any money in his bank account, and after he’d come out to his family a couple of months ago, he…wasn’t exactly going to be welcomed back there with open arms either. Then there was Rand, on the left in the photo.

He was Jake’s best friend. They’d lived on the same floor during their freshman year, and had lived together ever since, even renting an apartment together as seniors. Rand was the first person Jake had come out to, and Rand in turn had been one of Jake’s biggest supporters at college. He was the one who’d convinced Jake to come out to his parents and quit living the big lie. Of course, this culminated in situations three and four, where Jake had fallen in live with Rand–even though Rand was straight as could be. Jake was…annoyed by this fact, but he treasured what relationship they did have, or at least what they had for the moment, because Rand was flying out the monday after graduation to start at his new job across the country, leaving Jake here…alone. And so, in his desperation, Jake was willing to cling to anything which might resolve this in someway which didn’t end with him alone, and possibly on the streets. Even a crazy idea like this one. He pulled the strange leather cocoon out of his drawer again and turned it over in his hands.
Jake had a thing for BDSM. He hadn’t delved into it too much, but he did like going out to leather clubs and hooking up on occasion. He’d been to most of the fetish gear shops in the city around the college, and had become pretty friendly with some of the regulars. He’d even played around with a few of them, and found a few fuckbuddies, but he’d always felt like he was saving himself for Rand, as sad as that was. He was talking about his problems with one of the shopkeepers when a strange man clad from head to toe in a shiny leather uniform had come up and introduced himself. His hand had been strangely cold and clammy to the touch, and something about his eyes bothered Jake, but he’d listened to the man’s offer. After getting the rundown on Jake’s situation, the man pulled out a strange, leather bodybag and gave it to him. When Jake asked what it was, the man said it was a solution to his problems–all he needed to do was get Rand into the cocoon, and then, twenty-four hours later, Rand would be a whole new man–Jake’s man.
Jake had been appalled by the idea at first–who wouldn’t be? And the man had been vague as to what exactly was going to happen to Rand. The man said it would turn Rand gay, but he also kept mentioning other changes, which he never elaborated on. Jake had tried to refuse the man’s offer, but he’d walked away, leaving Jake holding the leather. He’d stashed it for a week now, but he was starting to feel like he didn’t have a choice–he had to try, even though it was wrong. Still, he had no idea what would happen when Rand got into it, or whether he would even survive in the hot leather sack for a whole day, but he couldn’t help but think he needed to try. Hell, if he ruined their friendship, at least it would be over before Rand left him for good, which is what it felt like. But Jake still felt like he had to be honest to Rand first, and tell him how he was feeling.
So, that afternoon, as Rand was packing, he brought him a beer and they sat down, and Jake told him everything–about his fears of joblessness, of his unrequited love, of how he desperately needed Rand in his life…and while Rand didn’t freak out, he told Jake that he couldn’t be everything Jake wanted him to be. That he had his own life to live, and his own dreams, and that while he would always care about Jake–as a friend–he needed to leave, and Jake was furious. That settled it–he had to try the cocoon–he had to.
He went to the kitchen, popped open a couple of beers, roofied one of them, handed it to Rand and proposed a toast to life long friendships…and an hour later, Rand was so out of it couldn’t stop Jake from lying him down in the cocoon, apologizing and professing his love the entire time he fit him into the leather and zipped it up over his face. As soon as the zipper came up over the crown of Rand’s head, the tag broke off and the teeth disappeared, leaving only a stitched seam. Rand struggled inside for a few minutes, Jake watching with something between terror and horny fascination as his movements grew weaker and weaker–and then he was still.

Jake came over and could feel nothing, neither a breath nor a heartbeat, and his first thought was that Rand had suffocated and died. He tried prying apart the leather, cutting at it with scissors, a knife, stabbing it, anything he could do to rescue the man he loved, tears streaming down his face, but nothing marred the impervious leather. He thought about calling the cops, or an ambulance, but what would they say? What would they think? What had he done? He had to find that man, the one who’d given him the cocoon in the first place. It was his only chance. He left the apartment, giving one last look to the leather encased Rand, and drove downtown.
He trolled the leather bars and the bathhouses, he searched the fetish shops open late and the adult bookstores, but he never found him. He was reduced to wandering the streets, too terrified to return to look at what he’d done, but the eventual light of dawn, and his own exhaustion drove him home. Rand was still there, on the floor where Jake had left him…but something was different. The cocoon was a slightly different shape, like Rand was growing larger inside of it, and the leather itself had changed, gaining creases and cracks in the surface like it had been spent years uncared for by anyone. He put his ear to Rand’s chest, and faintly he could hear the pulse of a heartbeat, and the sheer joy he felt was overwhelming. He was alive in there–and changing. Perhaps the man had been right after all.
Despite his nerves and residual panic, Jake fell asleep and woke up in the early afternoon, rushing to check on his friend. The cocoon was looking quite worn now and almost…brittle, but even though it appeared weak, it still refused to be cut. The cocoon had continued growing, while remaining skin tight against Rand’s form, though it was looking quite a bit less like Rand at this point. Jake realized that he had no idea what was going to happen once the twenty-four hours had past–would Rand be a completely different person? Jake felt his nerves start up again, as he checked the clock. When exactly had he done the deed yesterday? He couldn’t remember. It had to have been sometime between five and six in the afternoon, and it was now four…this wait was going to kill him, but he couldn’t leave…what if Rand woke up and no one was here to meet him?
Jake tried watching TV, he tried reading, but nothing could take his eyes off the cocoon for long. Eventually he pulled over a chair and just sat down, watching and waiting for something to happen–though he had no idea what he was waiting for, exactly. He found himself getting caught in fantasy after fantasy, Rand emerging from the cocoon transformed into his own ideal man, with rippling muscles beautiful blow job lips and a tight hole. Jake had always fancied himself a top, and as he thought about what might come out, he found his fantasies turning more and more twisted. He would show Rand for denying his love–he would beat him. He would lock him in chastity. He would train him to love him as much as Jake loved him back, and they would be happy forever.
Rand’s first movement caught him off guard, the odd lurch and groan from inside the now thin, leather skin. Jake knew he should do something, but he could only sit and watch as Rand’s struggling increased, and he began ripping and tearing at the cocoon crumbling around him, and Jake caught the first glimpses of the new Rand. He had stripped him down to his underwear before putting him in the cocoon the day before, so when a leather booted foot burst out, he was taken aback, especially when he saw the thick hair covering the thigh, and he grimaced.
Jake had never been a fan of body hair–he was more one for smooth muscle. He’d actually suggested to Rand that he start shaving his chest a year ago. As more and more of Rand emerged from the casing, he realized that Rand whad become someone far removed from his dreams and fantasies. He was hairy, for one–really hairy, that glimpse of the thigh had been the tip of the iceberg. His chest was covered with a thick pelt, and when his head burst out, framed by a mane of wild, greying hair with a thick, long beard beneath, he couldn’t help but let out a sound of disgust. He couldn’t even bring himself to get down and help him as Rand struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair and plopped down into it with a gasp.
“Fuck…” Rand muttered, his voice deep and gravelly, “God I need a smoke…” He pulled a carton of cigarettes and a lighter out of his vest, lit one and took a deep drag, letting out a thick plume of smoke into the room.

Jake’s face twisted up. He hated smokers…it was a filthy, disgusting and deadly habit. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He was so caught in his disgust, that he almost didn’t register Rand talking to him. “Hey–Hey! Jake, what the fuck did you do to me, man? What the hell was that thing?”
Jake almost couldn’t get the words out, but the did come, and he told Rand the story, told him about the man, and the cocoon, and that he couldn’t imagine living without Rand, so he’d drugged him and forced him into the cocoon. Jake left out the part about how he now found Rand absolutely repulsive…but he started noticing how Rand was was now looking at him, while he played with his pierced dick.
He finished his story, and they both sat in silence for a moment, before Rand spoke. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted–I have to say that you look damn cute over there–so if this is the way things are going to be, I could get used to it. Now how about you come on over here and give me a hand with this? Daddy’s fuckin’ horny.”
Jake couldn’t move for a second, he couldn’t even speak. Rand had become everything he was least attracted to, an old, dirty smoker with a thick pelt of body hair, he fought the urge to vomit at the suggestion of even coming into contact with him. “No…No you don’t understand, this isn’t what I…I mean, I’m not…”
“Hey, you’re the one who did this to me,” Rand said, “And I’m touched Jake, that you wanted me, and now I want you…oh fuck do I. I can’t wait to plow that hot ass of yours.” Rand got up out of the chair, tromping over towards Jake who quickly got up and put the chair between them.
“Stay the fuck away from me, you’re fucking…you’re disgusting!” Jake said, and Rand stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing.
“What–You think I’m…” Rand said, his face growing redder, “You’re the one who fucking did this to me, Jake. You’re the one who wanted me to fucking love you, to want you, and now I do. This is what you fucking wanted–and I don’t give a fuck whether you want me or not, I’m gonna have that ass of yours, bitch!” He grabbed the chair away from Jake who tried to run around towards the front door and escape, but Rand tackled him to the floor. Jake fought, and he fought hard, hitting and scratching at Rand’s face until the big man pulled back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rand shouted.
“Get out you fucking freak!” Jake screamed back, “I didn’t fucking want this, get the fuck out before I call the fucking police!”
Rand looked back and forth, from the crazed Jake on the ground to the door, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. He saw the clothes Jake had stripped off him the night before, he bundled them up in his arms and fled out the door, leaving Jake shaking and sobbing in the living room, alone.
*****
To be Continued Tuesday