Do you think cultural appropriation/exoticization/fetishization/etc. is an issue in erotic works?

It definitely is, in the same way that it is an issue in all works of literature–the difficulty here, I think, is that the exoticization and fetishization here is sexualized literally, rather than in broader cultural instances, where the act is merely normalized. However, at least within the MC/TF genre of erotica, it’s very difficult to create a powerful story without this sort of appropriation.

This is because, in the case of these stories, there are only two directions a TF can progress. It can either go–a) from one distinct individual to a second distinct individual, or b) from one individual  qua class to an “other” individual qua class. That’s a lot of gibberish with some Latin thrown in, so let me explain, and try to sound like less of a douche. In a pure body swap story, we have two characters, Andy and Bill, and over the course of the story, A and B swap minds, and nothing else–a pure switch. This story then, is about two distinct, defined individuals inhabiting personalities and bodies which are already defined within the story world. This is the only instance of a story fitting into the first category (a) above. Everything else–every other story–falls into the second category.

So, what exactly do mean by individual qua class? [note: read the word qua as “as” and that helps too. It has a slightly more precise meaning I won’t go into, but that gets the idea across.] Well, whenever we talk about stories, say, “I want a jock to turn into a redneck slob,” or “I want a businessman to become a caveman,” or “I want an older middle aged straight guy to become a leather daddy,” or “I want a rich white guy to become a black thug,” we aren’t talking about individuals–we’re talking about classes of individuals defined by a series of shared (and imagined) qualifiers. None of the characters in the story are going to be able to step outside the boundaries of their respective classes–except for at the moment of transformation–where the breaching of that class boundary is presented as an erotic act.

However, none of these classes are actually presented fairly–they are all presented as stereotype–in a sense, we all know what the above stories I summarized will probably look like–and therein lies the problem. Every single one of those classes–racial, class, age, sexual orientation, fetish, and even imaginary ones like ‘cavemen’–come with a built in set of assumptions about what “those people” are like. The vast majority of my stories rely on these common preconceptions, especially within my captions which are very limited in space, for readers to “get” what’s happening, and hopefully I can add a limited twist as I do it. However, that doesn’t change the fact that these characters are simply stand ins for the classes of individuals that they represent, for good or for ill.

So, here’s how I manage it. I try to avoid racial change and racial issues entirely. Unfortunately, that means defaulting to “ whitewashing” my stuff, as much as I hate it. However, if I include a caption of a non-white character, the expectation will be for readers to add in racial expectations, so even if I see a hot pic of a black guy, I tend to self-edit, something I really, really need to stop doing entirely, because that’s a real shit move. Second, I do my best to render the classes I use as cartoonish as possible, because at the end of the day, it’s all fantasy. None of these characters can possibly exist, because they exist as a representation of a class, not as actual characters. It’s hardly a good solution, in fact, it’s not a solution at all really, but that’s the genre, and I enjoy writing it. However, it’s impossible for me to take it the least bit seriously, and I hope no one else does either.

“Well, I’ve always been a believer that size matters,” the shop owner said, “I like a long cigar–thick ring–I’ve always felt they were the most satisfying. Still, I know it’s a matter of taste. These are going to be too small for a guy like you though, I promise.”

“I’d still like to try one, if you don’t mind,” Jed said, a bit annoyed at being sold up, but the owner just cut the short cigar Jed had selected and lit it. Jed took a couple of puffs before he let out a yelp, the cigar dropping to the floor from his mouth, and both of his hands went around to his ass. “What the fuck?”

“Sure, it seems big when it goes in, but here, let me show you,” the shop owner said, quickly undoing Jed’s belt and dropping his pants and underwear, before reaching around and sliding the four inch, slender buttplug out of Jed’s ass, “See? Way too small.”

“What the fuck was that thing doing in my ass?” Jed said, but the owner had already picked up the smoldering cigar from the carpet and put it out, before retrieving a foot long cigar, as thick as a beer can from behind the counter, “Now, this will definitely fit you better.”

Jed tried to fight him off, but the owner shoved the cigar in his mouth and lit it, and as soon as he inhaled, he nearly screamed through the cigar. Something massive had materialized in his ass, and the owner peeker around him and chuckled, “Well well, I guess you’re into baseball, eh?”

The man bent Jed over the counter and started working the metal bat in and out of Jed’s wrecked hole, and while he protested for a while, after his first orgasm, Jed started enjoying it–even relishing it–especially after the owner took out the bat and replaced it with his fist, driving it deep into his now starving hole. When the owner finally let him stand upright again–Jed’s suit was gone, replaced by a leather harness and vest, the words “FIST ME” tattooed across his lower back, with a huge ring hanging from the septum resting on the massive cigar he hadn’t finished smoking yet. Jed, unable to stand the empty ass, grabbed the scummy bat from the ground and worked it back up into his hole with a groan.

“I think I’m gonna need a few dozen of these ones, I think,” he said around the cigar, “Size really does matter.”

“See? ” the owner said, “I told you,” and rang up the sale.

Jackson grinned as he checked his email, and saw the email, the subject line: Your custom file. Jackson was a bit of a hypnosis freak–in particular, he liked the idea of being hypnotized into becoming a rough, muscular leather master. He was just a fucking middle manager at some massive corporate firm, completely powerless, but with hypnosis, he could at least be somebody. And his own custom file, from one of his favorite writers. He didn’t like most of his stories, but he had a way of making the files and stories seem so real, when he was in a trance–when he found out that the guy made custom made, tailored guided imagery, he couldn’t help but order one.

He plugged in his special headphones and pulled his cock out of his suit pants, letting himself drift off as the induction played, as the voice he was listening to started talking to him in that soft, soothing voice…

Fuck you’re horny, just can’t stop touching your cock on the work site, can you? Feeling it in your grubby work pants, go on, slip into that porta-potty there, drop those pants and sit down on that grimy seat a bit wet from one of your mate’s piss, but you like that, don’t you?…

What was this? This isn’t what he’d asked for. He tried to take off the headphones, and stop the file, but he…he wasn’t at a computer, was he? He was…was…

Rub that cock in that dirty jock of yours, feel those cum and piss stains you’ve been building up for months, but you need a cigarette too–what’s a good wank without a cigarette? You pull one out and light it up, feeling that rush, feel that throb in your cock. You savor it for a moment, your reeking pits, the stench of the filth beneath you. Your cock is dripping now, soaking the front of your jock…

It was so real, so more real than the other ones, he could feel his body, his pudgy gut, the stubble on his face, his hard hat as he slipped his cock out of his filthy jockstrap and started jacking it, taking a few deep draws off his cigarette.

Getting close aren’t you? Thinking about your mates outside the toilet, their musky, sweaty bodies. Good thing they all know your a faggot right? A nasty, cocksucking faggot, drinking their piss, slurping down their cum like a total slut. You love it, you’re so close now, you nasty fucker…

Jackson groaned as he came, shooting cum all over the front of his suit, still zoned out, and the file still had close to half an hour remaining. And he would listen to it many, many more times over the coming months, coming closer to his new ideal–rarely showering, smoking like a chimney, slurping up his own cum and piss at every moment–and ordering more files of course. As many files as he could afford with his severance pay, after he was fired for pissing all over himself in the bathroom at his job.

“I just want to see it on you, I’m curious.”

“It just isn’t my scene, man. Besides, we don’t even know where it came from.”

“Come on, it’s just a mask–put it on.”

Noah rolled his eyes, took the rubber gas mask from Jake’s hand and looked it over. It had arrived in a package earlier that day, with no recipient marked, but his boyfriend seemed strangely interested in it, and so he started to pull it over his head, when the straps came to life and clamped down around his head, cinching the mask against his face. He tried to pry it off, making muffled shouts, and he saw Jake stand up, shocked, and then his vision was blocked by some sort of mist…or smoke.

It was coming from him, from the mask, he could feel it in his lungs, he could feel it burning him up inside. Jake was there, trying to pry the mask away from his face, but the smoke coiled into a knot and flung itself at Jake’s face, shrouding him for a moment before condensing into a solid rubber hood, choking him down as Jake felt the smoke reach deep into him.

Punish, a voice said in his mind, Punish him.

He stood up, unsure of what was moving him, feeling the gas shroud his body, forming into a tight rubber suit, belted down with innumerable straps, wrapping around his cock, turning it to rubber, eleven inches, as thick as a bear can, already lubed and ready for the victim’s ass, Jake, hooded, on his hands and knees, and he rammed his new, rock hard cock deep into his ass, gas flowing out of him, coating Jake’s body in slick latex, just another rubber drone for punishment, for him to master, but there would be others. He would gather many more drones to pleasure himself on, and abandoning Jake, now a hunk of rubber encasing a chunk of human soul, and wreathed in smoke, Noah stalked out of the apartment, searching for his next drone.

you said that a lot of authors like you have taken to using their personal blogs to post their writing. do you have any suggestions of blogs for people who really love work like your’s?

Here’s a few:

http://bearpipe.tumblr.com

http://malechanges.tumblr.com/

http://agingtime.blogspot.co.uk/

http://batdonald2longus.tumblr.com/

http://malebodyswap.tumblr.com/

http://maletfstories.tumblr.com/

Not many of them have been updated very recently, and some have stuff other than stories, but those are a few I know of.

You mentioned the NCMC is slowly dying. Is there a comparable resource to which the high caliber TF/MC writers, such as yourself, are flocking? I’m aware of CYOC and mcstories but that’s about it. You have had a hand (or fist) in growing my addiction to TF stories so I’d say you’re slightly obligated to help ^.^

None that I’ve noticed. That said, I doubt the NCMC is anywhere near it’s last gasps–but without a system for comments or a forum, and with all of the spammers everywhere, I really don’t want to be on it. Not that I was fond of the community in the first place–but you post wherever you can post, for better or worse. So, it isn’t that I want it to die–mostly I’d love to see it replaced by something better…but that something better doesn’t exist yet. 

At the moment, it seems like a few authors other than me have taken to blogs and tumblrs as places to post their own stuff, but there isn’t really much of a system for collecting the posts together, and no one seems to be posting as much content as I am anyway. So, if anyone has ideas, I’d be happy to plug them and help out, but since I have zero programming experience, I can’t do much beyond getting the word out.

Metawriting #8 – Erotic Triggers Part 1

So far in these metawriting entries, I’ve discussed story structure and plot development in fair detail, however, one thing I haven’t addressed nearly as much is how we make a story erotic at all. Certainly having a story with strong MacGuffins and character motivations is going to go far to making a strong story, but if it doesn’t actually arouse anyone, then what’s the point? Arousal is more than just packing a story with fetishes–or rather, it’s how a fetish is integrated into the story that counts. The way I think about integrating a fetish is through specific triggers. A trigger is any part of a scene (it can be in many forms–description, dialogue or action) which cues into a particular fetish. A trigger does not necessarily include the arousal of a character–it is simply a scene which arouses the reader. So, a description of a person gaining weight is going to be a trigger for a weight gain fetish, a daddy character calling someone his “son” in dialogue is going to trigger an incest fetish, or someone pissing themselves is going to trigger a watersports fetish.

Some points to keep in mind. Triggers are always related to fetishes, and some triggers can be related to more than one. For example, someone being tied down and force fed is going to trigger both bondage and weight gain at the same time. If a reader is “into” both of those fetishes, this can be more powerful for them as they read it, but if any reader dislikes one or the other, the effect can be ruined altogether. Second, MacGuffins can, at times, be triggers–but not always. For example, a pair of filthy underwear that transforms someone into a slob is both a trigger for a slob fetish and a MacGuffin. The more general a MacGuffin, however, the less likely it is to make a good trigger.

Triggers are relatively easy to write, however, so a concern here isn’t that someone is going to leave triggers out of a story entirely (although I have read some “erotic” stories which somehow manage to do just that) rather, the concern is that the triggers that are included are not going to be as effective for a reader as the author expects them to be. The question that needs to be asked is what makes a particular trigger effective for readers. This question is deceptively difficult to answer for a couple of reasons.

First, triggers are susceptible to the law of diminishing returns, a psychological law which states that the more someone is subjected to something which elicits an emotional response, the intensity of that response is going to diminish the more they are subjected to it. So, which someone being force-fed might be very erotic  the first time I see it, but by the hundredth time, it’s bound to be a bit less arousing. So, part of making a trigger work is ensuring a certain amount of originality which can surprise readers in a genre which seeks to jade them all the time.

However, there’s a second force which works against this one, which is that the things which tend to arouse people the most are things which they are familiar and comfortable with. If something breaches that comfort zone, any arousal they might have felt is going to evaporate instantly. Even if the amount of arousal they feel towards a certain trigger diminishes over time, a reader is going to favor that old trope in the favor of something entirely new which they haven’t ever encountered before. So a writer is caught in a catch-22–in order to arouse anyone, the triggers an author employs need to be original and surprising, but anything too surprising will backfire and fail to trigger arousal at all. In a second entry I’ll address some techniques that I’ve found useful to circumvent this challenge, but I’m in the middle of trying to move out of an apartment, so it’s going to have to wait for another day.