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hope you continue that workout pig story you made earlier. I’m not into pigs persay, but that just hit a cord. On a side note. What do you think is the mass appeal for pigs being the go to for complete humiliation? Does it get you off

I’m not sure which story from last week I’ll be developing yet, so it could very well be that one. As for the connection between pigs and humiliation, I think our culture just sees pigs (as animals) as being deserving of humiliation, since they seem to enjoy wallowing in filth etc. It’s just an easy symbol to grasp, I suppose. As for me, I probably wouldn’t write it if it didn’t get me off lol.

There comes a time on Halloween night when you don’t want to be out after dark, and the four young men had entered that witching hour without realizing it. Coming home from the gay bar, they were cutting through a back alley on their way to the apartments where they lived, when a lightening bolt thundered through the clear sky overhead, struck the pavement, and a hulking, eight foot man, clad all in leather, stood in front of them.

“I am the Master of the Hunt” the man said, “And I need a pack.”

Before any of the young men could do anything about it, three collars attached to leads shot out from his hands and wrapped their away around the throats of three of them, the men struggling with them even as they began changing, their clothes disappearing, fur sprouting over their bodies. They remained human, but the collars grew up over their head into leather dog muzzles, and they all crawled over the their new master, and growled at the one man left standing.

“What…what about me?” the man whimpered.

“You? Why you are the prey,” the Hunter said, and cackled. The man turned and scrambled away, the baying and howling of the pack nipping at his heels, and he prayed that he might survive the night.

Metawriting #7: MacGuffins

Alright, so, this is a topic which has come up before in these entries, but I haven’t really delved into what they are in detail, and there’s a few reasons why I think they need an entry all their own. First, they’re kind of hard to wrap your head around, both because they’re kind of a slippery topic in and of themselves, and because I use the word in a slightly different way than it is used conventionally. Second of all, I’ve been reading some stories by writers who are relatively new to writing these sorts of stories, and they’ve been struggling with it in each one I’ve read, and once fixed, it’s something which makes their works immediately better.

So, what, again, is a MacGuffin? A MacGuffin, in conventional usage, is an object which is introduced to the plot which goes mostly unexplained, but which allows the whole rest of the plot to function. The quintessential example is the briefcase from Pulp Fiction, but we also have the Tesseract from Captain America and The Avengers, and the Death Star plans in Star Wars Episode IV. In each of these movies, these objects move the plot forward, by giving the characters motivations and goals, usually in pursuit of the object in question, but they largely go unexplained, and the story unfolds around them. So, a well placed and well thought out MacGuffin is crucial to driving any plot.

Like I said, though, I use the word a bit differently. In the context of the MC/TF genre, MacGuffins are those objects, powers or attributes used by characters to control and manipulate the minds and bodies of other characters. They are the amulets, watches and rings; the musk, the gaze, the touch; the books, the clothing, and the spells. Every story has one, and most every story’s MacGuffin has some problems, but we’ll get to that in a second. Let’s focus first on what kinds of MacGuffins MC/TF stories can have. We can break them down into a few different distinctions.

  • Limited / Unlimited: Some MacGuffins can only do so much, while some can alter every aspect of reality they so choose. The Chronivac 4.0 on CYOC is a fine example of an unlimited MacGuffin. Limited MacGuffins are simply anything for which there is something which it cannot do. So, the watch that can only hypnotize a subject is limited. The curse which can only strike a certain person and affect them a certain way is limited. Both are good, but unlimited MacGuffins tend to be problematic plot-wise,  because by giving the characters who wield them unlimited power, they tend to eliminate conflict, which can make a story boring. In the end, best to go with limited–they’re more interesting, but in a big story with lots of TF’s, sometimes a universal MacGuffin is best.
  • Character-Specific / Transferable: A MacGuffin is character-specific if no one else can use it, or if it is a part of their physical or mental being. A  MacGuffin is transferable if another character can use it. Examples of the former are a hypnotic gaze, or musk, or a family amulet that only the proper owner can use. Examples of the latter are rings, ray guns, books, etc.–anything that more than one person can operate. Never use a character-specific unlimited MacGuffin. Just don’t–it’s boring as fuck. Transferable MacGuffins on the other hand open up lots of interesting plot twists, with characters stealing MacGuffins and changing each other back and forth.
  • Mental / Physical / Hybrid: Some MacGuffins can only change minds, some can only change bodies, and some can do both. All are fine, what’s important to be clear, from the beginning, which is which.
  • Controlled / Wild: Some MacGuffins always do what the user wants–some have…a mind of their own. The quintessential wild MacGuffin is the Genie who just can’t get his wishes right. A measure of chaos in a story is always good, but having a MacGuffin go too wild just makes a story a muddle.

I’m sure there are more types and distinctions, but those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. As you can see, a MacGuffin can be designed to fit any story, but therein lies the big question:

How do we pair the right MacGuffin with the right story?

Every story is different, and I can’t begin to sort out how to answer this question in every case, but here’s a few points that should guide you as you write:

  1. The MacGuffin should fit the tone of the story: Are you writing a slob TF with smokers? Use a cigar or musk MacGuffin. A nerd to jock TF? A computer program or a football uniform. This is the easy part.
  2. Don’t be afraid to use multiple MacGuffins: Try not to make “swiss army knife” MacGuffins, which have a bunch of disparate effects. It can work in some cases (such as a spell book with multiple spells) but even then they ought to fit some common theme. Don’t be afraid to split powers apart and embody them in separate MacGuffins–often this is the best way to go.
  3. Occam’s Razor ought to rule the day: That said, if you can get everything in the story to change with one MacGuffin, don’t add a second one. If a MacGuffin doesn’t need a power for the story, then get rid of it. The MacGuffin ought to fit within the confines of the story–suited for the purpose, without overextending itself. If you don’t do this, you risk leaving out an unfired Chekov’s Gun.
  4. If you use two MacGuffins, make sure their respective effects are clear: If you use cigars and musk, both should have a distinct effect. Maybe the cigars are a physical MacGuffin, while the musk is mental. Maybe the musk is character-specific, but the intended victim gets their hands on a transferable cigar and tries to turn the tables in a battle of smoke. Just keep them separate. If they end up muddled, you probably need to go back to number three.
  5. If a MacGuffin has a rule, follow it in every case: If your using a curse with a specific trigger, say, whenever someone tells a lie, make sure it happens every time the trigger occurs. Don’t be inconsistent, especially not “to make the story work,” because your readers will notice, and it will just seem like bad writing, which it is.
  6. If you write yourself into a corner, don’t make up a MacGuffin to rescue you: No Deus Ex Machina please, it’s just sloppy. Go back and rework the story–don’t throw something in just to get you out of a tight spot.

Those are a few points at least. I’m sure you can break them all if you wanted to, but if you break one, make sure you break it for a good reason. A badly handled MacGuffin can ruin an otherwise nice story, so don’t fuck them up.

it would be so cool if Oscar were to discover that Mr. Williams is a thug slut as well :)

Nah, I don’t think Mr. Williams is a thug slut–I think Oscar would soon discover that he’s a muscle pervert. You know, one of those old guys who just likes to watch big muscled men work out while they jack off, who love feeling up muscled bodies, and smelling their work out musk. I have a feeling that Oscar would have Mr. Williams hanging out with his new thug slut a lot–a muscle perv would love watching him grow bigger every day.

Oscar’s New Thug Slut

“I really appreciate you being so understanding about this Oscar,” Mr. Williams said, “I just never knew that our son was such a thug slut, or we would have done something about it sooner.”

“I know!” Mrs. Williams added, “I mean, I always thought he was such a nice boy, but if I had known…” she gave a little shudder before continuing, “Well, let’s just say that it was lucky you were here, so you could spot the warning signs! I mean, if we would have sent him off to college, it would have been a disaster.”

“A real disaster–could you imagine wasting all those college savings on a thug slut like Quint?”

The two of them laughed, but Oscar just smirked, “Yeah, it would have been bad, I’ll tell you that much. But don’t you two worry, I’ll take good care of Quint, and make sure he grows up into the proper thug slut we all know he is.”

The front door to the duplex opened, and Quint trundled in, carrying a small box. “Here’s all of the stuff you said to bring, Master–I loaded the rest of my things into the back of my dad’s truck, like you told me to.”

“That’s a good job thug slut,” Oscar said, and gave him a smack on the back, making Quint wince. He still hadn’t taken the large bandage off the back of his neck and shoulders yet, from the tattooists yesterday. He was so happy Oscar had shown him what a thug slut he was–his life is going to be so much better now, that he doesn’t have to worry about college, or reading, or thinking for that matter. From here on out, all he would be doing with his life is working out, sucking cock, and whatever else his thug master wants him to do. “Mr. Williams–you’ll be a good man and take the thug slut’s things to the dump, won’t you? I’m going to be busy this weekend.”

“Oh, of course! Of course–I’d be happy to do that for you Oscar, you know we’ll do anything for you.”

“Yes, anything,” Mrs. Williams said, “all you have to do is ask.”

“Yep, just ask, and we’ll do it.”

“Sounds good,” Oscar said, “Fuck–slave, watching you cart all that shit around got me horny. Get down there and suck me off.”

“Yes sir!” Quint said, and got down on his knees, taking Oscar’s thick meat down his throat in a single thrust.

“Aw yeah slut, that’s good, real good…” Oscar said, puffing heavily on his cigar, and Mr. and Mrs. Williams were looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“You know, why don’t we just leave you two to it?” Mrs. Williams said, “Come on dear.”

“No, you fucking cunt, stay.” Oscar spat, “And you too fucker. We were having a nice conversation, weren’t we? And he’s just a thug slut, there’s no need to worry about him.”

“Oh…oh I guess so…” Mrs. Williams said, and the three of them chatted awkwardly about the neighbors and the neighborhood while Oscar smoked and rammed his cock down their son’s throat in front of them, finally tensing up and cumming all over Quint’s face.

“Alright, that’s good thug slut–head upstairs to the bathroom and wait for me,” Oscar said, and Quint got up, cum still plastered across his face, and went upstairs. Oscar turned back to his parents and said, “Alright, you two should probably be on your way now.”

“Alright,” Mr. Williams said, “And again, Oscar, thank you for helping us out with our thug slut son, you’ve been a great help.”

“Yes, we don’t know what we would have done without you.”

The two excused themselves and left Oscar’s side of the duplex they were renting to him, and he shook his head, smiling, and then bounded up the stairs after his slave, who was standing in the bathroom, waiting patiently. “Alright bitch, I’ve been wanting to do this for fucking weeks. That mop of yours has got to go–we need you looking like a proper thug scumbag, right?”

“Yes sir, whatever you say sir,” Quint said.

Oscar sat him down on the toilet and grabbed his shaver, and started working his way over Quint’s scalp, cutting away all of his shoulder length hair in long strokes. “This, thung slave, this feels good, doesn’t it? Me cutting away all the weight from your shoulders–I’m freeing you, I’m letting you be who you really, are, just a fucking thug slut–right?”

“Yes sir, I’m a fucking thug slut.”

“No bitch,” Oscar said, pausing in his shaving long enough to take the cigar from his mouth and stick it in Quint’s, “You’re not just a thug slut–you’re my thug slut–never fucking forget that.”

“Yes sir,” I won’t sir–I’m your fucking thug slut–no one else’s,” Quint said, taking a deep inhale off the cigar, and exhaling with a moan, his cock hard in his pants.

“That’s right slut–and we’re gonna have you all thugged out here soon enough. All that time you used to spend reading? Studying? Forget that–the only thing you care about now is working out–you’re gonna be one muscled thug by the end of the year, I promise you that–especially after I get those steroids from my buddy Zach–everyone is gonna want a piece of your bubble butt by the time I’m done with you. And that’s not the least of it–a new tattoo every week, and we’re gonna get you pierced too, starting with a fucking big ass PA through that cock head of yours. How does that sound, slut?”

“It sounds so fucking hot sir…”

“Damn right it does,” Oscar said, rubbing his hand over Quint’s buzzed scalp, and then grabbed a razor and some shaving cream, smeared it all over his his slut’s head and started taking the hair down to the scalp. “You know slave, you’re gonna learn something real soon, you’re gonna learn how fucking vulnerable it feels to have not a lick of hair on your head. You’re gonna learn what it feels to have some butch motherfucker grab your smooth head in his hands, and ram his big cock down your throat. You’re gonna learn what it feels like to be a real bitch, and you’re gonna keep this dome smooth for me, right? You’re gonna love the feel of a hand on your scalp pushing you down onto your knees so much, that you’re never gonna grow your hair out again.”

Quint couldn’t reply. He’d tranced out completely off the smoke from Oscar’s cigar, that his eyes had sagged half closed, but he was listening to every word–Oscar could tell, because he could see his thug slut’s hard on through the jeans he had on. Those were gonna have to go, he figured–even though he hadn’t settled on a uniform for his slut yet. Jockstraps? Gym shorts? Shirtless was a give in, of course, but he just wasn’t sure about the lower half yet–still, he had months to settle on a good look for his new thug.

He stripped Quint down, took the cigar back, and then had him hose his head off in the shower–no soap though–thug sluts smell like sex and musk and sweat–Quint was going to have to get used to stinking like his master did. He climbed out, and Oscar decided it was time to take the bandage off, and take a look at his slut’s first tattoo of many. He pulled it off and smiled–it was perfect–”Property of Oscar” in big letters that Quint would never hide–not that he’d want to. He was proud to be a thug slut–Oscar had made sure of that, as he ran his fingers along the still sore back, feeling Quint stiffen–and Oscar’s cock was stiffening again too.

Oscar bent the still wet Quint over the counter, one hand on his newly shaven head, and he worked his cock into Quint’s hole. the bathroom filling up with smoke–Quint roaring in pain at first, but he loosened up soon enough, and started moaning in pleasure. His master was right, the sensation, the vulnerability of that hand on his smooth head–it felt like his master could crush his skull in his hand, or palm it like a basketball–he could do anything he wanted with him, and Quint would accept it, would beg for it–he needed his master so bad–he’d do anything for him.

Oscar, grunting and snorting, started pounding his cock in as hard as he could, and then unloaded deep in the slut’s hole, both of them wet now, and he pulled Quint close–you’re mine bitch–mine for as long as I want.”

“Keep me forever sir, please–I’m yours,” Quint said, but Oscar pulled out his cock, keeping his distance. After all, he can’t get too attached to a thug slut–he’ll get sold off eventually anyway, after his hole can’t get tight anymore. Some whore house will end up with him, usually down in Mexico–if he got close to a thug slut, he might actually start feeling bad about it.

“Come on bitch, let’s get you started on a workout,” he said, and the rest of the afternoon was spent getting Quint up to speed on the workout equipment that dominated the living room in Oscar’s place. After a massive protein heavy dinner, it was back to working out, and Quint could almost feel his head draining, his thoughts moving slower, but maybe it was just his master talking to him the whole time, telling him how stupid he was, how he can’t even read, how he flunked out of middle school, how he can’t even remember where he lives–how he depends on his master for everything, how his master is everything to him–he couldn’t live without him.

It was around eleven at night when there was a knock at the door, and Oscar went over and answered it–it was Mr. Williams. “Hey…uh…the wife kind of gave me the cold shoulder tonight, and…well….I was wondering if–”

“Three hundred.”

“Three hundred? Isn’t–isn’t that a bit pricy?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Mr. Williams looked a bit annoyed, then pulled out a wad of cash, counted out Oscar’s money, and then walked over to where his son–no, where Oscar’s thug slut was working out. He wasn’t his son anymore–he didn’t have a son, Oscar had made that perfectly clear, that when Quint moved in with him, he’d have no relation to the Williams anymore.

“Hey Quint–you got a customer. Sit up and give him what he’s looking for.”

“Yes sir!” Quint said, sitting up from where he was pressing, and saw the man looming over him…he looked familiar, didn’t he? He tried to place the face for a moment, but his head just wasn’t working fast enough, and finally he forgot it, and started sucking his cock, listening to the older man moan. He didn’t last long–less than a minute, and then he came, Quint swallowed, and he left, giving Oscar a nod as he went, but Quint was already back down, returning to his bench press. He had to get big for his master. He was just a dumb thug slut after all–his hot body was the only thing he had going for him. Well, that and his hot mouth and ass. He was going to be a good thug slut for his master–the best thug slut Oscar had ever had.