How do you come up with the characters and their counterparts

Hmm…It varies a lot from story to story, actually, and really depends on how the story idea gets generated. Sometimes the story is less about the characters involved, and more about a particular plot device or fetish, in which case the characters are rather secondary to the rest of the story. Other times, the stories are all about the relationships formed by the characters. In that case, it’s always about conflict. The characters have to be in some kind of opposition, and to make these kinds of stories work, it usually requires an opposition rooted in power dynamics. These power dynamics can be personal (two friends, where one is the leader and the other a follower) social (the relationship between boss and worker, or father and son) or broadly cultural (the power disparity between a wealthy urban tech worker and an unemployed redneck, say). Then, you start playing with those power structures–inverting them, twisting them, manipulating them in various ways, and that generates a story.

This is just one example, really. Some characters are inspired by real people (usually people I dislike/hate/etc.). Some characters have an entire mythology within my stories, and because of that, they serve more allegorical roles than anything else (Rod from Pigtown, for example). In the end, it all depends on the story itself, and what it needs to succeed.

brackenousjunk:

I’ve been a bit lax about the usual Wednesday ask and answer session, so I have a bit of a backlog which I’m hoping to get through today, as well as anything else you might have in mind!

Also, I’m still open for commissions, from now until some future undetermined date. I have quite a few people interested in longer stories, but I also have flash fiction and captions at a bargain rate if you’re on a budget! If you have any questions about those, this would be a find time to ask that as well. There will be captions today as well of course! And thanks for reading as always.

Do you generally write faster on commission or is it about the same speed?

The same speed, which is generally fast. I’ll be honest, I make my money here through quantity, so my goal as far as commissions go is to write them at a rate of $20-$30 dollars an hour, which is about 1000-2000 words an hour. But that’s how fast I write pretty much everything, so quality is the same as just about everything else I write. That time also doesn’t include time spent consulting on the idea and editing the final product–I try to edit commissions better than my usual stuff, of course.

Have you thought about writing an “origin story” for Rod? Maybe he was one of the first to be transformed by Pig Town some older, noisy, stuck-up fellow who lived nearby when the place opened.

Rod has had about four or five origin stories over the years actually, but nothing has ever really stuck very well. I will say that Rod is one of the earliest characters in my writing–he’s the person “Losing Control” is being narrated to, by Micah (though he’s unnamed in that) and also a key character in “Sinful Revenge”, which is more of a direct sequel to “Losing Control”, and is the main antagonist in “Dangers of Smoking”! He’s all over the place, once you start looking for him.

These new Pigtown captions owe a good amount to @rbbrpigmen who revitalized and riffed on the idea as more of a neighborhood than as a bar, which is where this newer version of Rod is haunting.

As for his relationship to Pigtown–as far as canon goes, Pigtown has always existed, or at least existed before Ron (and Micah) got involved. Micah, in every version, is a wizard. Ron is a young college guy, usually an athlete of some variety, with some magical potential who gets involved with Micah, and then…<something something something>…Micah is “gone” (unspecified) and Rod then an older bear and the new proprietor of Pigtown, whatever Pigtown might be–I still don’t really know what it is myself.

I’ve been a bit lax about the usual Wednesday ask and answer session, so I have a bit of a backlog which I’m hoping to get through today, as well as anything else you might have in mind!

Also, I’m still open for commissions, from now until some future undetermined date. I have quite a few people interested in longer stories, but I also have flash fiction and captions at a bargain rate if you’re on a budget! If you have any questions about those, this would be a find time to ask that as well. There will be captions today as well of course! And thanks for reading as always.

Satyr Hills (Flash Commission)

Commissioned by @musclelover4826

Dan leaned lightly against a tree, his ears straining for the song. The wind had picked up as he’d climbed higher through the hills where he’d been walking, making it harder to hear, but there! Yes, that was it, a light trill, but enough. He had only been planning a short walk through the lands surrounding the greek villa he was staying in for his week of vacation, but he’d heard someone playing some strange, lilting tune, distantly on the wind. It had glued itself in his mind immediately, and he found himself desperate to find the person playing it. He trudged away from the path, and was now miles from where he’d began.

He knew he should be worried, but every time the song caught him he was again drawn to it. He also hadn’t been prepared for this long of a walk–while by no means out of shape, he was not much of an athlete–skinny, more accustomed to days in studying at the library than fields and pitches–or even long hikes like this had become. He took his glasses off to wipe sweat from his brow, thankful for the breeze to cool him down somewhat, and kept going. Half an hour later, the woods thinned slightly–he came around a trunk, and there, sitting on a wide stump was a satyr, panpipes at his lips, playing his song, Dan’s song. His jaw dropped, and he tried to stop and stare, but whatever tune the strange beast was playing pulled him closer still, the breeze now even colder against his bare skin.

Bare skin? He looked down, and then around behind him. He’d…lost all of his clothes, and they were nowhere to be seen! He’d been so hot, walking, had he taken them off to cool down? It had seemed so reasonable in the moment, but…but the song pressed against his mind, and drove out his worries again, bringing him to the satyr’s side. He looked a bit older than Dan, in his mid thirties, with a shaggy brown made of hair coating his head, and also his legs–but two huge ram horns sprouting from his temples implied that the beast was likely much older than Dan could guess.

At last, he set down the pipes, but the tune was still caught in his mind, playing over and over again, a seamless loop binding him to the satyr’s side, no matter how hard he struggled against the compulsion. “Good to know, after such a long sleep, the world still has beauties such as you,” he said to Dan, as one sharp nail ran it’s way down Dan’s front to his cock, the satyr licking his bearded lips before leaning over and running his tongue along Dan’s cock from root to head. His cock began to tingle, a new sensation filling his mind–lust, pure and simple. He’d never had much desire for sex, but soon, he was heaving for breath, eyes rolled back, no thought of resisting as the satyr stood, bent Dan over the side of the stump, and turned his attentions to the young man’s hole, licking and probing with his tongue, feeling the tight cherry begin to unknot and loosen.

Dan kept trying to fight back, but now the lust was overwhelming even the song still running through his mind. He reached down with one hand, and helplessly stroked his cock. It was still slick with the satyr’s saliva, but it felt…different. Thicker and longer than it had, and so much more sensitive than before. It began to leak, precum dribbling onto the surface of the stump, the scent of fresh cum driving him even more wild, the satyr pulling his mouth from his now very loose hole, lining up it’s own cock, and slipping it in deep with a long, loud moaning bleet of pleasure. Dan felt himself explode, a massive torrent of cum pouring forth from his cock, and yet, he could sense, somehow, that it was more than just cum leaving him, but also…himself. His memories, his elevated desires, his sense of self, his sense of humanity. He felt crippled by the overwhelming joy, and had no time to recover before a second, equally massive orgasm ripped through him, shimmering cum spraying across the surface of the stump where it was absorbed by the wood, with no trace remaining. This continued for what felt like hours, but could have been minutes, the Satyr’s hands exploring his body, until, at long last, the beast’s pace quickened, and with a cry that echoed through the hills, he came deep in Dan’s hole as well.

It was like a fire burning inside him. The Satyr pulled out and stepped back, and Dan rolled over onto his back on the stump, his insides aching, but his hands couldn’t leave his cock. The shaft grew longer, but his balls, which had shriveled slightly in the wake of his orgams, swelled again, fuller and thicker than before. The skin thickened into a hide, and a dusting of deep blonde hair grew in, coating the sack before spreading it’s way down his thighs, muscles thickening even as his legs shortened, ankles and feet contorting until he no longer had feet, but cloven hooves at the base of his new legs. The rest of him was changing as well–his lithe body bulging with newfound muscle, a ridged six pack, hard pectorals, strong arms stroking his thick cock, feeling the heat begin to claw through his mind, emptying it out of everything beyond the most basic of desires. Food. Wine. Pleasure. Sex. Service. He could see so clearly–not only without glasses, which had long since been smashed under the satyr’s hoof–but the path forward as well. There was only pleasure, in the end; why had he ever let things become so complicated? As Dan came one last time, two small horns pushed their way out from the side of his head, each an inch long–nothing like the ones adorning his new master, but perhaps in time…

The satyr took his new thrall again, both of them enjoying Dan’s new body through the evening and deep into the night, and then resting together, the old satyr playing one of his favorite lullabies to lull them both to sleep–though not as deep as the one he had just woken from. No, he had seen a glimpse of this modern world’s men–he thirsted for more, and this one would help him. Together, they would make many more brothers for themselves, living happily in the hills and forests, just as they had in centuries past.

Features & Bugs (Part 5)

I tried the door, but my body wouldn’t even open it. I tried climbing out a window, but even if I could have fit through, my body refused to pass an invisible threshold. Anger gave way to doubt, into terror. He really had done something to me, and I had no idea what it was. We’d been dating for months; was all of it a lie? Or was it just this? Who even was I? I didn’t dare go near the computer–I was certain that had something to do with all of this. Instead, I ate. I ate like a nervous wreck. I couldn’t stop myself. Around three in the afternoon, I realized I still hadn’t had a shower all weekend, and I reeked of cum and piss, but my body wouldn’t even touch the water when I tried to get in. I ransacked his room, his office, looking for anything, a clue, something. All the while, the horniness just kept building. Plugs helped, but they kept falling out until I found one the size of a toddler’s arm.

I wanted to watch the videos again. What would those pigs have done, in my position? I knew this was a terrible question to ask, a terrible idea to even be having, but it comforted me. It comforts me, I mean. I…really do want to be one of them, you know. That’s impossible to deny. Maybe not always, but now? This thing I am now? I do, I really do. But I resisted. I resist. I don’t know why. Austin came home that night at around seven, and I’d emptied to house of food. Sure enough, the man was with him–who I’d seen both at work and at the club–smoking, even older than he’d been, now at least in his fifties. As soon as I see the terror in his eyes, I know he’s in the same position as I am. Aware, but unable to articulate anything, unable to disobey. We both followed Austin down into the basement of his house, and he locked us into two sturdy wooden chairs he has rooted in the concrete floor, and he told us the story, from the beginning.

He’d only been intending it to be mind control, he told us. It had worked like a charm, the first version of the program, when he’d made me gay. Made me attracted to him, and we’d started dating. But something strange had happened when he’d tried to make me a bottom–he’d included in the programming a video clip of an older chub getting fucked…and when he’d used the conditioning on me, I’d become older, and fatter–just like the man in the video. This last week–this had all been version 2.0. He talked a lot about brain waves, about sensitivity. He’d gotten access to company medical records, and discovered that the two of us were the only ones the program would have that effect on, and sure enough…here we were.

He hadn’t expected me to catch on of course. He also hadn’t expected either of our minds to hold together as well as they had. Of course, neither of us could remember anything about our old selves, but we could remember that we’d been different. I don’t know if it was cruel or kind to show us old pictures he’d lifted from social media–I’d been thin and young. Muscular even. I’d had a girlfriend. We’d been engaged, and talking about having kids together. Now, I couldn’t even remember her name. I realized he could have shown the pictures of literally anyone else, and I’d have the same relationship with that person as this one. What made that old me realer than this? How could I mourn something I could barely believe? I think I took it a bit better–the daddy, Daddy Mark, he was screaming and crying by the end, screaming and shouting and cursing…I just listened. Maybe it was the pig in me, that made it easier to resign myself to what was coming next. After all, pigs were meant to be used. At least…I’m being useful still.

Now, we’re both at the forefront of Austin’s testing, blazing a path towards a version 3.0. It’s features will include remote brainwave recalibration, and mental pathway revision to go with memory repression. He’s going to kill what remains of us both, he’s already getting closer. Mark is losing it already, I can hear him over there, becoming who he’s meant to be now. Rough older daddy, smoking like a chimney, desperate to dominate anyone in his path. I’ll be next, when Austin figures out how to break me open, finally. I’m…looking forward to it. To being a real pig, finally. I’m tired of being caught in the middle here, and it isn’t like I can go back. Austin’s promised me that he’ll make me a good master. A hard, rough, muscled skinhead master to brutalize me right. I’ll be in films of my own, I hope, one day, crawling around on the concrete, head finally empty. I want to forget. I’ll forget anything if it means I can forget this. This tape will remember me, but thankfully…thankfully, I won’t.

Features & Bugs (Part 4)

Now that I had been away from the damn computer for a moment, the sense that something was…different was only growing stronger. I could hear Austin in the kitchen, cooking I assumed, and so I went into the bathroom to get a look at myself, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with my reflection, even though, I somehow knew that it wasn’t quite right. I mean…later…but then, at that moment? I looked at myself–at the beard, at the extra hundred and fifty pounds, at the tattoos and piercings, at the hair falling off my head in clumps…and I honestly couldn’t see anything wrong with it, and befuddled, I found Austin and ate, and ate, and ate. Dinner was massive, but my appetite was larger than I thought possible, and I stuffed myself. In the end, it was ten at night when we were finally ready to leave the house. I had no idea where we were going that late, but I went with Austin and climbed into his car…which was now much smaller than I thought it should be, and we drove into the city, parked, and walked a couple blocks to a rundown club, in a alley, and I followed Austin inside.

It looked like the setting of the videos I’d been watching–dingy, all tile and dim lighting and bodies pressed too close. It stank of musk and piss, and my little cock got hard instantly. My doubts started to fade, and I remember I was drooling uncontrollably as Austin led me deeper and deeper into the club, men crowding their way around me, touching me, smacking me, shouting at me. I don’t really know what happened when. I drank piss. I sucked cock and got fucked by who knows how many different men, all of them raw. At some point, strangers dragged me over to what looked like a converted sawhorse. They bent me over, strapping my hands and legs to the frame, the top cutting into my huge gut, and they opened up my hole how I’d…I’d always wanted. Fingers and cocks, and then fists. I don’t know how deep they went, or how many, but I was begging for it. I was in those videos, I was one of them, my fantasies were real.

I do remember one thing. Something I now know I wasn’t supposed to see. Austin hung around a bit at the beginning, but he soon abandoned me to the mob, once he saw I wouldn’t be trying to get away or resist. I was sucking cock, and trying to keep an eye on him, in case…he needed me, I suppose. And I saw him talking to someone, an older man in a leather uniform smoking a thick cigar. I wasn’t jealous or anything–I was just a pig after all, he could talk to or fuck around with whoever he wanted. No, for a while, I wasn’t even sure what had caught my attention. I thought I knew him, somehow. Recognized him from somewhere, but why would I know anyone here? It wasn’t until Austin and the man got closer, Austin pushing open the leather jacket the man had on, revealing his firm gut and the lines there, the lines I’d see forming through that crack in a door. It couldn’t have been him though, right? There was no way! He’d been…young, and thin, and this man was old, and sexy, and powerful and…and I knew it was true, but I was too horny to think, too weak to do anything. All I wanted was for him to come use me too–both because I wanted him, and because I wanted to see if I was right.

If two points make a line, how many until a shape forms in front of you? I couldn’t really see it, because I was too close–inside the boundary of the entire event, but everything linking up around me, the room spinning…it was too terrifying, and so I pushed it away. I focused on being a good pig, but doubts don’t go away that easily.

It was four in the morning, the bar was closing. Austin unbound me from the horse and helped me stand. The air on my hole felt so strange, as he helped me from the bar. I think I shit myself, but it might have just been a wad of cum running down my leg, I didn’t want to look–either possibility was horrifying. The cum more so. If it was cum…if it was cum, part of me wanted to eat it. We got back to the car, we drove back to his place, both of us exhausted, and we fell right to sleep. Sunday, my entire body ached, but it was a good ache. It was a hunger as much as a pain. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to do it every night. The excitement scared me–I couldn’t anticipate my own thoughts. I expected to feel disgust, but all my body told me was how good it felt, how much I wanted even more. And the doubts, the shape forming. We fucked all Sunday long, but come Monday I was going to get answers.

That morning, he tried to sneak out, but I got up with him, telling him I needed to go into work too. He told me he’d already called out for me, telling them I wasn’t feeling well. I got angry, said I was going, and he got angry. Frustrated, might be a better word, looking at me like I was just another computer not working like it was supposed to. It all came pouring out soon enough. I demanded to know who that man had been, and he denied at first, and then refused to tell me anything else. I wanted to know what I’d looked like, last week. I demanded to know what he’d done to me, what he’d done to both of us. He smiled, and promised me that he’d tell me everything when he got back from work that evening, but for now, I was to stay here, and not leave under any circumstance. Then, he left and shut the door behind him, locking it.

Features & Bugs (Part 3)

The office was small, and the man’s desk had been against a wall to the side. The man was there in his chair, staring at his computer screen–his shirt was unbuttoned, his fly too, and he was jacking off. Something was playing on the screen, some video, but at the angle I was crouched at, I couldn’t get a good look at anything other than him…and something was wrong with him. When I’d helped him the day before, the guy had been young, slender and wiry, clean shaven and hairless as far as I could tell. Looking at him now, I wondered if my memory was simply wrong, or if something else had happened to him. His body had grown larger, more muscular, and was much hairier than I would have expected. He had more than a five o’clock shadow–somehow he’d grown a short beard overnight. He must have been older than I’d thought as well, because it was flecked with grey, and I could see his hair receding slightly. But then something else happened, something I knew I couldn’t explain as easily as all that.

I could see him in profile, and he twisted towards me slightly in his chair. For a while I was focused on his cock–easily the same size as the dildo I’d had in my ass the night before, if not a bit larger. But something else caught my eye as well, something happening on the gut he’d grown overnight–there were lines on it. Black lines. I thought they were a shadow, but shadows didn’t move like this, they didn’t…grow. They were forming shapes on him, which I didn’t recognize at the time. The sight was enough to jolt me away from the crack–I stood up and slipped the door closed again…and only then did I realize I’d had my cock out as well, jacking off while I was watching him, right here in the damn hallway! Thankfully no one had seen me; I zipped back up and fled back to the IT department, where I ran into Austin. I tried to tell him what I’d just seen, but couldn’t get the words out, once he started toying with me. He ended up fucking me in the bathroom stall, and then suggested we get an early start on our weekend, and I was only too eager to agree, and what I’d seen had slipped to the back of my mind.

I…don’t remember much of that night. We had dinner somewhere, but I was so horny all I could think about was getting back to his place for sex. He told me he had a present for me, sat me down in front of his computer, and showed me a twenty file movie collection, he had queued up for me…and I watched all of them, in a row, all night long. Most of them had that same pig in them, but some had others. They were all pigs too, but some were different. One had a fat pig bound up, getting stuffed with food. Another pig got whipped, and spanked, and pierced, and bloodied for over an hour. Always there was piss. Always there was rubber. Always there was humiliation and abuse. Always, there was this odd…flicker, that I noticed on occasion, but it never held my attention for very long. I didn’t sleep once. I think I remember Austin leaving me there and then coming back. In the morning, he set a heaping plate of food by me, and I devoured it with one hand and stroked off with the other. In my mind, I’d gone from admiring these pigs, to identifying with them, experiencing their humiliation and abuse vicariously, and then, I actually started to feel like I was one of them. Like I’d entered the videos myself, like I was watching videos of things that had happened to me. I ate again, at some point, and eventually, Austin turned off the videos, and the only sound in the room was me snorting, the sound of me groping my pig cock.

“That’s better pig,” he said, “You feeling more like yourself now?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question, but his cock was there, and just seeing it made my mouth drool. I swallowed it, sucking hard, and a minute later my mouth flooded with piss for the first time, and I drank it down, the taste so familiar even as the newness of it struck me. I felt different, I didn’t feel like me, but I didn’t know how to explain it in terms anyone might be able to understand. The flow slowed, and he went back to fucking my face. He was brutal, choking and gagging me, but I just took, enjoying the roughness, enjoying being treated like a pig like me deserved to be treated. The first time I thought of myself as a pig, the first time I realized that’s what I was, I came with a huge grunt, I was so happy to have figured it out!

Austin didn’t cum, he just pulled out, and told me that he wanted to go out that night. He’d laid out a few outfits on the bed, and he wanted me to pick what I wanted to wear, we’d eat, and then head out. I got up from the chair where I’d been sitting for a day–it was sopping with piss and cum…I must have been sitting in my own filth this entire time, but for some reason that didn’t bother me. I didn’t even think of taking a shower–I just lumbered down the hall to the bedroom, and there, sure enough, were a few sets of clothes: a business suit, some shorts and a t-shirt, and finally what looked like a collection of rubber gear. I made a beeline for that of course–why would I want to wear any of that other stuff? It ended up being a rubber singlet, black with a red accent up the side, like a tuxedo stripe, and the ass was open. It had seemed…big, when I started putting it on, but when it was finished, it actually seemed a bit small. I pulled on some black army boots to go with it, and felt…good, surprisingly. Sexy even. I’d never felt sexy in my life, I’d thought, what in the hell was wrong with me?

The place was a sty, sure, but they hadn’t seemed that bad at the bar. They weren’t exactly the kind of guys he usually hung out with–Barry was a bit of a social climber, and if he didn’t think someone had anything to offer him, he wasn’t likely to hand around for long. But these two, they seemed…different. So laid back and relaxed, working their basic jobs at the warehouse, smelling like they hadn’t showered in a few days. One of them had spilled their drink on his suit, and Barry had cussed him out; they’d bought him another one, stuck around to chat, and now here he was, at their apartment. Strange, he hadn’t even bothered to get their names! One of them went into the kitchen and brought back a round of beers for the three of them, handed one to Barry, and the night continued.

Three beers later…

Something definitely wasn’t right. His suit felt so damn tight all of a sudden! At first he’d thought it was just the fact he was a bit woozy with alcohol, but no, his clothes…really didn’t fit him very well all of a sudden. He took another swig of beer, trying to follow whatever football game the guys were watching, but he’d never been much of a sports guy, he was too wiry and short for that. He leaned back, trying to make some room, and a button popped free of his shirt, striking the TV, the guys turning…and leering at him, while Barry started down at his…his new gut in horror.

“Think he needs another beer man.”

“I’ll get it, why don’t you get him a bit more comfortable?”

The guy got up, walked over, grabbed the front of Barry’s shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere, and Barry’s hefty, and rather hairy gut spilled out. This wasn’t right.

“Guys, I think I should go…” Barry said, tried to stand up, but he couldn’t keep his balance.

“No way man, no way you can drive like this–best just stay over, you know?” said the other guy, returning from the kitchen with another can, “Here, have some more.”

He didn’t want it, but he took it anyway, swigging deep, and letting loose a belch. Did his gut just…grow when he did that? He knew that was impossible, but…

Four more beers later…

The two guys were still watching sports, but Barry wasn’t watching anything. The world was swimming around him, he couldn’t…quite feel his body. The worst part, however, was that he needed to piss, had needed to piss for ages it felt like, but he couldn’t, not here, not just…in his pants.

His hand moved up, pouring more beer in his mouth, though a good amount dribbled out. Beer was good, made him feel warm and comfortable, made it easier to just, let go of things.

Too late, he realized he’d let go of his bladder, soaking his suit pants. The guys had noticed as well, they were saying something, but he couldn’t hear what. One pulled the can from his hand and replaced it with a fresh beer, and he kept drinking as best he could. It felt like his brain was slowly being choked off, deadened.

Six more beers later…

Just a pig now. The guys had stripped it of all it’s clothes, and had it sucking their cocks, drinking their piss, getting it used to their scent. Nothing was left of the asshole businessman they’d decided to take down the night before, their ultra strong beer had made short of his weakass mind, leaving him with barely enough faculty to serve, provided they kept him provided with plenty of beer from now on, of course.

Drinking it all the time would only make him heavier of course. And hairier. But that was how the two friends liked their pigs. And when they got sick of it? It was definitely still a seller’s market.