Well, like I noted in the comment I left, once we start getting into how the changes occur, we’re no longer talking broadly about the stories themselves, but about specific devices within stories, in particular MacGuffins, which I’ve covered on tumblr before. That said, you could certainly add a third axis to my schema–but here’s why I’m reluctant to do so.

First, I don’t think adding more axes actually helps clarify the system–if anything, it starts obfuscating and complicating the very thing I’m trying to explain and systematize. I’d rather have a simpler system that can’t account for everything all at once than a complex system which might account for more phenomena but is so confusing we can no longer learn anything from it.

Second, adding a distinction between intentional and accidental changes in this discussion doesn’t do much to develop the other dimensions at all. The reason I chose to contrast the two axes I did (constructive–destructive and self–other) is because the relationship those two pose say something meaningful about each other and the genre. While adding another axis would account for extra kinds of stories, it doesn’t really draw out the argument I was trying to make, regarding why some people like particular forms of stories than others. The accidental–intentional distinction speaks more to how writer’s form plot, and how they plan character change, than it does about particular reader preferences. Of course, this isn’t true for everyone–the original commenter in particular who took issue with the system I was laying out for example–but overall I’d stand by the claim. 

None of this is to say that the incidental–accidental distinction can’t be important–it definitely is. However, that discussion wasn’t the right place for it in my mind, and leaving a simpler system and a more cohesive argument is more important to me than constructing the most accurate system I possibly can. Hope that makes a lick of sense somewhere in there.

“They’re very comfortable, sir, I promise you’ll love wearing these boots once you get used to them.”

“I’d really prefer something cheaper,” Bill said, but the young man–Trey, according to his name tag–kept turning the boot over in his hand so Bill could see it from every angle. They were great looking boots, and he loved the deep black of the leather, but they’d be dusty after one day on the construction site–not to mention they’d be worn thin by the end of the summer. “They’re too nice to wear for work anyway.”

“They’re tougher than they look, sir. How long do your usual boots last? A season? These will last you two or three years, especially if you maintain them well.”

“I’m not very good at maintenence.”

“Well, I’d be happy to give you some pointers, sir–I mean, if you’d like.”

Trey smiled up at him–he was a few inches shorter than Bill, and a bit rounded. Not exactly fat–but soft in all the right places–and from the way he was eyeing Bill, his eyes flicking down to his crotch and back up again, he had a thing for him as well.

The silence lasted a bit longer than either of them had intended, but Bill relented. “Alright, I guess I can try them on at least.”

“What size?”

“Thirteen and a half–wide.”

Trey hurried off to find the size, and Bill sat down on the bench, slipping his tennis shoes off. He glanced around the store again, but he was still the only customer–and there was only one other employee, a young woman bored at the register, immersed in her phone. Trey came back with a box. “I only have a fourteen wide, but this boot tends to run a bit small–do you still want to try it on sir?”

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose.” He didn’t really have any intention of actually buying the boots of course, but Trey seemed absolutely pleased as he got down on one knee and slid one boot onto Bill’s foot.

“How does that feel?”

It did feel amazing.

“Pretty good,” Bill said.

“Do you want to try the other one on?”

Bill gave a shrug of no commitment, and Trey slid the second boot on.

“Nice, right? And they fit really well. Go on, walk around and them, and tell me they aren’t the nicest boots you’ve tried on.”

Bill gave a sigh–he really didn’t want to spend the money, but he stood up and gave a walk for Trey, and then sat back down. “They’re really nice boots–but they’re still too nice for me to wear to work.”

“If you take care of them, they’ll last just fine.”

“I’m not really–”

“Or–” Trey said, and then looked a bit embarrassed. Bill thought it was because he’d interrupted him, but no, he was looking past Bill, towards his coworker, still at the register, her back to them both. “Or I could help you, sir, if you’d like…”

Bill cocked an eyebrow, and then saw the erection in Trey’s jeans that he should have noticed, but before he could say anything, Trey was on hands and knees, rubbing his face against the side of the boot, letting out a soft moan. Bill froze on the bench, heart pounding, watching Trey rub his cheek against the leather, and then lick it, leaving a shine trail of spit behind him. “Stop–stop! What are you doing?” Bill managed to hiss down, and Trey immediately sat back on his heels.

“You’re hard, sir.”

“Yeah, but–”

“We can go into the backroom, right there–”

“I’m not, I mean–”

Trey was up then, and he said, “Yeah, those are a bit big, let me check again for that thirteen and a half,” and he slipped back behind the curtain, leaving Bill there, still frozen in place, cock hard in the front of his jeans. He was actually thinking about it. How could he be thinking about this?

He stood up. The boots still felt odd on his feet, the heels pushing him up, his posture a bit higher than usual. He caught himself in a mirror on the wall, and wondered what Trey saw in him. All he saw was a rough laborer, a bit of a gut but bulging with working muscle, beard and hair a few months untrimmed–there was no one in his life to trim it for, really. The boots looked good on him–or did he look good in the boots? He walked as quietly as he could, but the boots forced out a thud on the hardwood anyway, as he ducked into the back, and he found Trey there in the bleak light of the halogens, head bowed. With the boots, Bill was slightly taller than him, or was Trey just hunching over slightly?

They just stood there for a few moments, Bill unsure of what was happening, slowly realizing that Trey was expecting something from him, some action? Stance? Command? His voice was caught in his throat, but his cock was hard, and he fumbled with the fly, pulling it out so Trey could see it, but still he did nothing, just stood there. He was looking at it though, he wanted it, and Bill wanted him to do it–

“You have a nice cock, sir.”

Bill didn’t know how to take that, so he stayed silent.

“What would you like me to do sir?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Bill fidgeted, he felt himself go a bit soft from the cold shop air, from uncertainty, from disbelief. “You…you know…”

Trey said nothing–he wanted Bill to say it, no, he wanted to hear Bill say it.

“”Suck–suck it…”

Trey fell to his knees, and before Bill could do anything he had his mouth wrapped around his cock, and Bill grabbed the back of his head, ran his fingers through Trey’s hair, thrusting, feeling more at ease but something still felt off, like Trey was still waiting for a command, and Bill found himself working a bit harder than he usually would have, leading the way, thrusting a bit more than Trey was sucking, but it worked out in time, and Trey swallowed his cum down as he shuddered, trying to stay quiet.

Please, that’s insulting to married couples. My husband and I never troll each other, because one of us would be strangled by the other within a week. 

And I would definitely be the one choked out on the floor.

It also doesn’t help to pick fights with someone who makes being a snarky asshole part of their online persona, but they seem pretty incapable of taking jokes, especially at their expense, so I don’t think they’ll catch on anytime soon.

Don’t worry, I’m sure there will still be other trolls to feed then too.

You do that, and I’ll pity you for possessing such a grand sense of false entitlement that you feel like you can judge a single person’s entire upbringing based on their responses to anonymous trolls made behind a pen name disconnected from their actual identity on the internetz.

I care about your manufactured umbrage and ad hominem arguments even less than your concern trolling.

Oh my goodness!

Oh, your self-righteous smarm has struck me at the weakest point huddled within my carapace of sarcasm!

Oh whatever will I do, now that you’ve deigned to correct me on the proper way to live my life! Oh Misery! Oh sweet, blessed death, take me!

lolz jk

See, you’re doing exactly what I just talked about–you’re concern trolling. In a very stern tone, you’re trying to let me know that I’m doing something “wrong” (read: something you don’t like) and you think that makes me a lesser person, and feel some obligation to let me know that I’m degrading myself through this “behavior”. All that’s rather beside the point though, because the fact is, you can take that self-righteous bullshit and shove it up your ass back where it belongs.

By the way–shitting all over your keyboard like that? That’s rather ill-advised, but do what you’d like–I certainly can’t stop you.

Stupid questions are a waste of my time, but not punishment by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, it might be punishment if I cared, but a bad question or a tasteless comment isn’t something I’m going to ever give a shit about. I suppose I could just delete them, but early on I’d decided to answer every ask I get, which I’ve managed to do for the most part. 

Still, some of you out there keep throwing dumb questions and concern-trolling at me and expect me to give a shit about it and not just laugh in your face. I do this for fun, on my terms. If you want to ask me a legitimate question, great. Ill answer it, and I’ll answer it as thoroughly as I can/want, like I have with many other questions. However, if you’re just going to use my inbox as a place to whine and complain about my writing, how much I’m producing, what kind of writing I’m producing, what fetishes I’m using, etc., then yeah, I’m going to laugh at you, come up with a snarky rebuttal, and post it for everyone to see.

See, here’s the thing–more people in my audience agree with me than agree with the trolls, so I figure I might as well give them some comedy to go with their porn.