Recently it occurred to me that in most tfmc stories the transformation to a position of a dominant leather master is almost always reserved to people taking revenge on someone, who undergo it more or less willingly. It seems like the stories where people get transformed into tops unwillingly and don’t accept it right away are pretty rare. So as an expert of the genre, do you happen to know any such stories by any chance?

The only one that’s really coming to mind is one of my favorite pieces by Onix, a part of his Big Mage on Campus series, Part #6: Sloth. Oddly enough, I have a story like this from a commissioner on my docket that I’m going to get around to writing soonish (I hope).

Still, the “Unwilling Dominator” isn’t a very common fetish. The only place I can think of also seeing it are in stories where the changer is what I call a “Submissive Aggressive” (i.e. in direct communication they take on a submissive role, and in indirect communication they are aggressively dominant–they are submissives who forcibly create tops for themselves) but even in those sorts of stories, the tops aren’t usually “unwilling” they’re just oblivious.

The more I think about it, the more I’m recalling stories where I’ve seen it used, but I can’t recall names of the stories or even the sites I might have read them on. I seem to recall on being written by AgainstMyWill (this one I think? It doesn’t have any TF though, and I don’t think it quite has the tone you’re looking for). I think there are a few more on MCstories, but you’re going to have to get lucky there, because finding stories with specific elements like that is easier said than done.

Was this going to be enough? Would he finally be satisfied? Erik knew inside of himself that he wouldn’t, even as he trudged through the manure in the barn, the scent of the muck already making his dick rise up inside the stiff crotch of the overalls he’d taken from The Wall at The Center–the place which claimed that it could find work for everyone that came in, and in addition, promised that everyone would enjoy their new jobs. If they still didn’t feel quite right in their new positions, they could come back the next day, where they would be given a new occupation until they found the right one for everyone.

This was Erik’s fourth job he’d gotten from the Center so far. He’d worked in construction the first two days, finding himself enjoying the act of getting dusty and dirty, muddy and grimy and musky, every day finding someone around to fuck with in the mud. On the third day, which he spent emptying porta-potties, he’d fucked a nasty laborer inside one, stinking of shit, and cleaned out his filthy hole before fucking the shit out of him literally. And now, the overalls he’d picked from The Wall had landed him cleaning out the manure on a farm, and when he caught eyes with his fellow shit shoveler, they ended up rolling around in the muck, fucking and pissing and cumming over and over again.

He learned then, that The Center wasn’t really meant to provide people with jobs–it was designed to condition people for the jobs no one in their right mind would request. The next morning, he found himself pulled to the shit covered rubber overalls and gloves, he pulled them on and went to the gay bathhouse where he worked as a full service toilet. Still, by the end of the night, his now dull mind couldn’t imagine having any other job, and he knew he was lucky to be paid to do something he truly loved doing.

Really? Are we fetishizing brain eating parasites now?

*sigh*

Look, I don’t really want to go through the modern history of sci-fi movies and how they have built up a wide variety of specific and general tropes and MacGuffins which have, in turn, been fetishized and sexualized both within mainstream entertainment, the genres of horror and sci-fi, and the MC/TF genre in particular, so let me just go ahead and point out that I am definitely not the first person to write a story with a brain-eater MacGuffin.

So, are we fetishizing this now? No, we’ve had it fetishized for years. Maybe open your eyes to the wider genre here, and pay attention to what other people write, because as much as I like educating people about the genre, your sarcastic, condescending bullshit of a question makes me want to hunt you down and pry out your eyes with a spoon.

Not really–sorry, I’m in a weird mood tonight.

A lot of the guys in the frat have been acting really strange lately, and I had no real clue what was going on with all of them. It all started when Johnny brought home that funky meteorite from the field that he found, and he’s been obsessing over it lately. Like, in a really unhealthy sort of way–carrying it around with him, not letting anyone else touch it. But more than that…well, the guys who hang out with him have all started acting really…strange. Faggy strange. Louis is wearing these really tight, hot pink clothes, and I saw him carrying around this massive dildo the other day. Noel started wearing all of this leather gear and I swear he and Louis have been fucking around in their rooms. Carter can’t seem to stop eating and masturbating–and he’s watching gay porn too. I don’t get it.

I head to my room today though, and now it all makes sense. See, Johnny was waiting there, and he explained everything to me. See, he’d always been a total pervert–and a gay one at that, and now, the alien living in his head, the one slowly eating his brain, it’s letting him push all of his twisted fantasies onto his frat mates in exchange for devouring it. Of course, that means the alien will be planting it’s larva in our minds too, but those won’t grow to maturity for close to twenty of our years. Sure, I fought hard, but as soon as I felt his tongue burrow into my ear, the slimy worm pushing its way down my ear canal and burrowing into my brain, I knew exactly what to do.

I’m a pig now, you see? It makes so much sense! I wear these filthy clothes all the time now, and I stink of sex and piss, and it makes me so hot, I can’t even tell you. Nothing is too extreme for me. I clean out Louis’ sloppy hole after Noel finishes fisting him. I beg Noel to take me into his dungeon and make me scream in pain. I suck the piss out of Carter’s filthy boxers, since he’s too fat and lazy to even get up off the couch anymore–I love it. Too bad Johnny can’t do anything about it–he just sits and drools in his room now, brain gone, but hey, he’s living the dream! I can’t wait to be like that in twenty years too–it’s gonna be so sweet.

Can you do more splits off the TF contagion story Bracken? I just think it would be so cool to possibly update and add scenes to it…

At the moment, I don’t have time I don’t think. That said, if you had particular branches you wanted to see, you could always commission them at the CYOC rate.

(Partial sequel to this caption)

Of course, these mirror spirits weren’t always interested in justice or anything high minded like that–they simply enjoyed the opportunity to twist and manipulate the lives of the beings who dictated their every movement on the other side of the glass. They were envious of our free will, and as soon as they discovered that they could wreak a little havoc in return, they simply couldn’t stop.

Derek was proud of the fact that after six months of job hunting, he’d finally managed to land a decent job at a tech firm downtown. He was dressed to impress, and very excited for his first day on the job, and feeling happy with himself, decided that he might as well document the occasion with a quick selfie in the mirror. However, the image that popped up on the camera a second later couldn’t be right…he was wearing a harley davidson tank top which could barely contain his gut, a old faded tattoos running up his arms, and his hair and beard looked like they’d been grown out unattended for years.

However, when Derek looked up from the camera in into the mirror in front of him, he watched that same man’s jaw drop–it was him! But that’s not possible. He looked down, feeling his grimy body, and realized he couldn’t go to work like this–he couldn’t even leave the house looking like this…but something else was wrong. In the mirror, he saw the room around him start twisting and contorting until he was looking at the reflection of a rundown, filthy trailer, not the inside of his apartment. “No!” he shouted, clawing at the mirror, “Change it back! Change it back!” but all he could hear was the echoed titter of something on the other side of the polished glass, laughing at him. The spirits knew that he would try to fight it, but that before too long, Derek would be just like his reflection, an alcoholic, unemployed piece of trailer trash–just what he’d never wanted to be.

The Loser Part Three

Wilton froze, trying to remain hidden and quiet in the stall, hoping the janitor would leave for a moment so he could slip away unobserved. However, in a moment, his phone chimed loudly–another email.

“Hello? Is someone in here?” the janitor asked, and Wilton hurried to check the phone, and found a new task.

Lightning round! It’s your final task!

Beg the janitor to let you suck his cock. If he refuses, you lose. If you can’t get him to cum in five minutes, you lose. If you don’t cum in your new diaper before he cums down your throat, you lose.

“Fuck!” Wilton said, and then covered his mouth.

“Sorry, are you busy? I can come back in a few minutes…” the janitor said.

“No! No, hold on,” Wilton said, bumbling out of the door, realizing a moment too late that all he was wearing was a sopping wet diaper. The janitor was a young guy, probably in his early twenties, and Wilton gulped as the guy looked at him in shock. “Hey…uh…hey, can I suck your cock?”

“What the fuck kind of faggot shit is this!” the janitor said, and backed away.

“No! Please, you don’t understand, I need to suck your cock!” he said, and tried to grab the janitor before he could leave, but the kid turned and punched him in the face, and then booked it out of the bathroom, and he heard another chime on his phone, and dreading what it could be this time, he looked at the new email.

God, you’re such a loser. This game is over–but here’s your final change.

Congrats–you’re now 78 years old. In addition, since you failed so badly, you’re also going to become a complete faggot pervert, one who particularly likes paying young men to humiliate and abuse you over webcam or at your house while you worship their young, muscular bodies.

Enjoy your new life, loser!

It was too late. When he looked up from his phone, Wilton was back in his home, now retired, the diaper he was wearing soiled beyond belief, but at the thought, he found his cock starting to harden in the front of it. He sat down at the computer, grinding the shit up his crack as he did, and turned on his cam. Maybe he could find a hot stud to ridicule him tonight–he was such a loser, he definitely deserved it.

The End

The Loser Part Two

Wilton was sweating a bit as he waited for the email to come in. The game was still going on–and it was the end of the day, finally, and he’d done his best, but so far he’d lost every round. He hadn’t managed to eat enough during lunch, and ended up trading 25 pounds of muscle for 50 pounds of fat, giving him quite the paunch suddenly–though at least his clothes still fit. Another masturbating challenge came next, and he almost passed that one, but he’d had to go to a meeting before he could finish shooting the second load in thirty minutes, and squirmed in his seat as his cock shrank two inches and went from cut to uncut. But the current task had been strange, simply telling him to wait in his office and keep working until everyone else had left.

His last coworker walked to the elevator and stepped inside, and almost immediately a new email arrived. He opened it with a bit of dread, and read:

Well done! You actually managed to win a round. No changes for you this time.

Your new task: Go into the restroom and strip naked. Then, lick every toilet seat clean. You have fifteen minutes.

It can’t be serious. He sent an email back with that written down, and all he got back was:

We’re serious. Thirteen minutes.

He went into the bathroom and stripped out of his suit, went into the first stall and looked at the seat, but felt himself gag almost immediately at the thought. Still, he powered through for a few minutes, before throwing up into the bowl and flushing it down, and he just gave up, waiting for the last few minutes to run down, before a new email came into his phone.

You lose! Guess you’re afraid of toilets. Good thing you’ll be diapered and incontinent from now on, you big baby. Still, we think you’ll like the feeling of a full, dripping, stinking diaper. In fact, forget about changing your diapers regularly. Dirty diapers are the hottest fetish for you now, so you wear them for at least a week before putting on a fresh one.

“Wait…what? No!” Wilton said, but it was too late. Looking down, he saw the diaper had already appeared around his waist, and a second later, helpless, he felt piss flood into the front of it, warm and…and kind of nice. In fact, it was really nice, and he felt his soft cock start to harden in the front of the diaper, and he whimpered a little bit. He tried to take it off once he’d finished pissing, but for some reason it wouldn’t come undone, and as he struggled with it, he got fully hard and switched to rubbing his cock through the diaper lustfully, or at least until he heard the door open as someone entered the bathroom–the janitor.

To Be Concluded…

So when somebody tells you he masturbated to your story do you take it as a legitimate compliment or are you a bit weirded out by this?

Umm…lol, I don’t write these for my own personal amusement, lol. Of course it’s a compliment. However, I especially like getting the notes which usually are like:

“Man, I’m not into scat or anything but <insert story where I used scat> was so hot!”

I like the possibility that I have a corrupting influence on all of you.

*Cackles evily*

Thanks! I do understand your dillemma, but it is sad that I cannot expect many racial transformation stories from you. As an Asian guy myself, I sometimes try to write racial tf stories, (since I am not so good at English, only in my own language) and yes, it is so hard not to be “racist” while I’m playing with those stereotype images. And it’s even more complicated when I think about being transformed into a Caucasian lower class. (p.s. This discussion reminded me “Mark’s mistake” from NCMC.)

Ha, yes “Mark’s Mistake”…

As much as everyone on the NCMC hated that story (but there aren’t many stories the NCMC community likes at the end of the day) there was something honest about it, I think. That story, at least took the question of what it means to be “turned black” and dealt with it realistically. The fact that the dominator had also transformed himself into the stereotypical southern white supremacist makes it even more complicated. “Mark’s Mistake,” to me, was less about racial TF’s, and more about the dangers of obsession. Still, it was pretty fucking racist, lol, but informatively so.