Category: Uncategorized

Cleaning House (Part 1)

A couple weeks ago, I received a short story submission from a fan, who said I could publish it if I so desired on my site. The story was nice, but a bit short, and it ended just as things were getting to, well, the good parts. So, what follows is the story the fan submitted, lightly edited, which I then went ahead and extended for fun, into something more complete! Hope you all enjoy it.

“All of these jobs look boring.” I thought, throwing down the local newspaper onto the floor. I needed a job. My redundancy money was nearly all gone, but nothing was showing much promise, and the wages were ridiculously low. I couldn’t survive on this money! I went to have a frustration wank in the bathroom and came back and laid back down on the sofa. Looking down at the paper again I saw an advert that I didn’t see before. It read:

“Cleaner required. Minimum wage but meals included. Can also provide accommodation. Sense of humour a must, interested in rpg’s a bonus!”

“Okay,” I said out loud to myself, “That could be helpful. My lease on this place is up in a couple of weeks.” I phoned the number and spoke to a guy that sounded nice. Laid back kind of guy and we had a laugh so he invited me for an interview.

I drove down the lane towards this wooden log cabin. It was out of they way, but I kind of liked it. It was rustic and somehow… homely. I’d already decided that if I got offered the job I would snap it straight up.

I walked up the three steps to the door and then stood there for a minute. Why was I nervous? I’d been on loads of interviews and I wasn’t exactly shy. I put it down to the fact that it was a different kind of job. One that I wasn’t used to doing. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“C’mon in! S’open!”. I recognised the voice straight away from the phone call. I put on my best smile and opened the door. I wasn’t expecting to see what I saw. The place was a tip. Beer cans, pizza boxes, empty packets of crisps and sweets. They were everywhere. I couldn’t see the floor. It could have been carpeted or plain wood for all I knew. Joe (that was his name by the way) must have seen the look on my face because he laughed “Yeah, now you c’n see why I need a cleaner. Would’ve tidied up, but y’know.” I looked in the direction of the voice and my heart skipped a beat. I knew I was gay, so that wasn’t a shock, but what WAS a shock was my heart skipping a beat and a sudden twinge in my pants when I saw Joe.

He was big. No, that wasn’t good enough. Huge? Humongous? That was getting there. He was sitting there with a fag in his hand, resting it on him enormous belly. His legs were spread wide and his belly hung down almost over the edge of the sofa. But what made him look huge was that it was so wide as well. He had a massive chest which looked muscular and massive arms. It looked like his wrists were as thick as my biceps. He was also bald and sported an impressive manly beard. He certainly wasn’t my normal type. Yeah, I did go for guys with a bit of meat on them, but not this much. And his voice… deep, gravelly and countrified.

He stood up as I made my way over and shook my hand, looking down at me and smiling. He was about six inches taller than me. I could feel activity in my jeans and tried my best to stop myself from getting hard. It was a struggle, but upon thinking of Joe noticing that I was sporting a hard-on made it disappear quickly enough. I really wasn’t sure his views on gay guys and didn’t want to really freak him out. Or worse, send me packing with no job.

He let go of my hand and cleared a load of pizza boxes off a seat and onto the floor. “Have a seat. Fancy a beer?” I declined, saying that I was driving. “Ah, one won’t kill ya. And I promise t’feed ya before ya leave so yer not over limit.” I accepted and he opened a beer with one hand and passed it to me. It looked like a normal can in his hand but as soon as I took it I realised that it was a large can. I nervously took a sip and then tried speaking. “So…”, I just went blank. I didn’t know what to say.

“Haha!”, Joe bellowed out a laugh, “Don’t be nervous. I think we got on okay on t’phone so I think we’ll be okay talking in the real.”

“Heh, yeah.” I said, barely audibly (“heh, yeah? What the fuck was that?” I thought). I took another sip of beer while he paused his game he had obviously been playing when I walked in.

We talked for hours. I’d had a few beers without even noticing and then I was starting to feel hungry and luckily Joe said he was going to order some pizza and within half an hour we were sitting there – one medium pizza for me and two large pizzas for him. Plus sides. He tried to talk me into more food but I told him I don’t have a big appetite. “Ha!” he laughed, “That’ll change when yer livin’ ‘ere.”

“So I’ve got the job then?” I thought I sounded more excited than I probably should have.

“If yer wan’ it, it yours.” he smiled.

A Dog’s Tale (Part 9)

CW: Bestiality

“It was the happiest I’d ever been, being Master Joel’s dog. Everything was so new! It was better than I’d ever dreamed.”

Fido was crying now. He was sitting on the floor in front of me. I’d sat down in my old recliner, smoking my pipe, and listened to my pup finish his story, but here, his voice caught, and he paused. Looking up at me, he knew what my next question had to be, of course.

“If he made you his dog–a real dog…then why are you human now?”

Fido wiped his eyes.

“I was his dog for a year–a year to the day. The next winter, he took me back to Pigtown…and left me there. I became human again, my gear was back, even my old clothes were back, and…and I was a man again. I hurried after him, but he’d just…disappeared. I can’t tell you how sad I was, I thought about jumping in front of a car–I tried to jump in front of a car, several of them, but my body wouldn’t let me. I didn’t find the note in my pocket until a while later, and…in it he told me what I had to do, if I wanted to be a dog again.”

He looked up at me, judging me somehow, wondering about me. Hesitant, but I’d come this far, and I wanted to know. Eventually, he spoke again.

“I had…to find men–men like I’d been before. Businessmen, obsessed with with themselves, obsessed with their work. Vain and prideful. I had to tell them my story–the whole story, with no lies. And then, if after all that, they…if you fuck me, I get to be a dog again. Your dog, sir. Your sexy fucking mutt, and you can fuck me all fucking day long, sir. You’re the sexiest master I’ve seen, and I want to be yours, sir. Please…please, fuck me.”

It was a rush, feeling everything come back to me suddenly. I looked around the room in a panic, I looked down at myself, at this disgusting, fat, hairy, old body I was in now, and I nearly screamed, my pipe falling from my shaking lips and landing on the carpet.

“This…this isn’t me, how did you do this to me?”

“Master, please calm down. It’ll be alright I promise. You…you don’t have to fuck me, sir, I understand. Not everyone I tell the story to does. It has to be your choice. But we could be happy here–you could be happy here. You wouldn’t have come this far if I couldn’t have made you happier than you were.”

Fido stood up, and stripped his way out of the costume. He looked…filthy, under there. Under fed and exhausted. He clutched himself, and I could…see how uncomfortable he was, in his own skin. He got down on his hands and knees, facing away from me, ass in the air. It was…shaking a bit, and I could almost imagine a tail there, at the small of his back, swinging back and forth in eager anticipation, and my own cock–this cock, I mean–was stirring at the thought of giving the mutt a proper plowing, feeling my cock in his tight doggy hole, fuck!

“No, this is fucking sick, this–I’m not some disgusting dog fucker, this is so fucking wrong!”

“I know sir, I know.”

His voice was quiet, just a whisper.

“If I…If there was another way, I’d do it. How do you think it feels for me? You’re…this is the seventh time I’ve done this in the last week, you’re the seventh time I’ve tried, after I lost my last owner a month ago. I hate it, sir. I hate doing this to people, but I need it, sir. Master. I can’t stop, and so…I understand if you leave, I do. I’m…broken, and there’s no fixing me. I’ll find someone eventually though, I always have…I could tell that you’re too–well, you’re not like the others who owned me, sir.”

He turned around and got on his knees, looking at me.

“They were all…cruel, sir. They fucked me because they wanted to control me. I could feel how much they hated me, and everytime, they abandoned me, sir. They got so…disgusted with themselves, that after a year, they’d kick me out, and I’d change back–but they keep their new lives…they forget all about me and my story. But you aren’t cruel, sir. You think you are, but you aren’t. You…remind me of who I was. Following orders, doing what I thought the world was asking of me, but not happy at all. I’m happy now though, happier than I ever thought I could be, and I just…I just know I could make you happy too sir, that you’re happy like this, even though you know you shouldn’t be.”

He picked up my pipe from the floor, tamped it down gently and relit it with a match from the box on the table beside the chair, all while still on his hands and knees. I couldn’t help but feel impressed–proud, even, at his skill. I didn’t…want to admit it to myself, but in a way, he was right. I hadn’t been happy. I’d been lonely, and trying to fill every void with work, and this last evening, just…being. It was the first time I’d felt at peace. This apartment was filthy, I was filthy, but here…here there were no conference calls, and no meetings, and…and was this so bad? No one would have to know, right? That…that I’m a fucking pervert?

Fido crawled over, my pipe in his teeth, and I take it from him, and take a deep draw off the cheap smoke.

“You aren’t going to leave, are you? I don’t…I like you sir. I’ve always wanted to be a dog, sir, but for the first time…I don’t just want to be a dog, I want to be your dog, I think.”

“I bet you tell that to everyone, Fido.”

He shook his head no. I let him take his hand in mine, and pull me back towards the recliner. I stripped off my clothes, looking at my heavyset frame, my rough hands, the tattoos covering my arms and chest. I sat down, and Fido started licking at my feet, and then worked higher until he was licking at my cockhead. I don’t know if it’s too late now–I can…see him changing, and I can feel my memories starting to fade away. He’s…getting a bit smaller now, his arms and legs growing thinner as the hair on his body fills in with a brindle pattern. His ears are shifting up to the top of his head, and I give my pup a scratch behind them as he licks at my manhood, and I…fuck, he’s one sexy fuckin’ mutt, and damn smart too. Always fuckin’ knows what his master needs, that’s for damn sure.

He backs up, turns around, and goes down, presenting his hole to me again…and who the fuck am I kidding? I know I’m gonna fuck it. I’ve…always had a thing for mutts, ever since I was a dumb kid. I get on my knees, chuffin’ on my pipe, and slide into him, trying to ignore the crack of his bones as he changes, the pants and howls of pleasure as he gets what he fuckin’ wants…and to my fuckin’ surprise, the anxiety, the terror…it melts away too. Just a man and his best fuckin’ friend, right? I cum deep in Fido’s hole, and the big mutt–probably some lab hound mix–turns around and starts licking at my face, thanking me.

“Easy boy,” I say, and reach under, feeling how hard his rocket is, slick from his sheath. “I ain’t the only horny fucker here, am I? I sure could use a fuck too–ya up to it boy?”

He gave a loud bark, and I got on my hands and knees in front of him, and like an old pro, Fido got up and fucked his way into me in return, and I knew I’d found a partner for life.

A Dog’s Tale (Part 8)

CW: Bestiality

“Please–please. I know I don’t deserve it. I know you probably don’t even want me, but I need this. I can’t explain it, sir, I can’t, but this is everything that I’ve ever wanted–or, at least, as close as I can get.”

He was on his knees in the light winter snow before Joel, still in the pup gear from the club. The only way he’d been able to catch up was to skip changing entirely, and as terrified as he was that some early morning commuter might see him in this kinky gear, he had to tell Master Joel how he felt. If he had to go through another week hiding this, he didn’t think he’d be able to survive.

Joel looked down at him, appraising him. “And what do you want? What do you really want?”

“To be a dog! A real fucking dog, and I want to be your dog, sir. But you know that! But it’s impossible, I can’t actually…and this is the best I can get, and you’re the best master I…I love you! I love you so hard that I can barely handle being away from you, and you know that and you keep leaving! You just leave me. I know I wasn’t a good person, but I’m trying to be a good pup, sir, I’m trying to make up for it, and…and…” he gave a long, loud whine which seemed to articulate the frustration better than any words could at that moment.

Joel got down, smiling at him, and gave him a pat on the head. “Boy, take a look at yourself, and you might be surprised by what you see.”

Confused, he looked back at himself, and to his surprise, the pup gear he’d had on in the club–it was gone. He was completely naked, but it wasn’t cold, because a thick pelt had grown in all over his body. Looking down at his hands, they were quickly becoming two paws, pads on the fingers and thick claw like nails. He whined again and tried to express his gratitude, but his face was stretching and contorting–before too long, all he could do was bark and yip and jump around on all fours, his bones aching terribly as they shifted into their new forms, but he didn’t care. It was happening! It was really happening to him, he was going to be a dog. He was going to be his master’s dog, and he loved his master so much. He rammed his face into Joel’s crotch, licking at the leather pants he had on, his own cock shifting into a bright red dog cock in a furry sheath, sliding out in excitement. He wasn’t any special dog–just a mutt, really, but he didn’t care. He was a dog, a real dog, just like he’d always wanted to be, and looking up at Master, he knew he would do anything for him, for the rest of his life–however long that might be.

Joel watched the last of the changes of his new dog’s body settle in, the tail fur filling in as it grew to it’s full length, wagging to and fro, his flesh nose darkening to black, and the brightness of his human eyes dulling somewhat, as he lost contact with his humanity. He would still be smarter than your average dog–much smarter, really–but all thoughts of life as a man were locked away. For Fido, the only life he could lead now, was as a dog. “Alright boy–now how about we go home?” Joel said, clipping the lead he’d used in the club to Fido’s collar. He barked in agreement, and together they tromped off down the city blocks, Fido not even feeling the cold, and when they got back to Master’s apartment, he begged for his Master’s cock, just like any good dog should. He licked and licked, and then Master fucked his doggy hole too–it was tight, but it was what Fido wanted–what Fido had always wanted.

“It was the happiest I’d ever been, being Master Joel’s dog. Everything was so new! It was better than I’d ever dreamed.”

Fido was crying now. He was sitting on the floor in front of me. I’d sat down in my old recliner, smoking my pipe, and listened to my pup finish his story, but here, his voice caught, and he paused. Looking up at me, he knew what my next question had to be, of course.

“If he made you his dog–a real dog…then why are you human now?”

Fido wiped his eyes.

“I was his dog for a year–a year to the day. The next winter, he took me back to Pigtown…and left me there. I became human again, my gear was back, even my old clothes were back, and…and I was a man again. I hurried after him, but he’d just…disappeared. I can’t tell you how sad I was, I thought about jumping in front of a car–I tried to jump in front of a car, several of them, but my body wouldn’t let me. I didn’t find the note in my pocket until a while later, and…in it he told me what I had to do, if I wanted to be a dog again.”

He looked up at me, judging me somehow, wondering about me. Hesitant, but I’d come this far, and I wanted to know. Eventually, he spoke again.

“I had…to find men–men like I’d been before. Businessmen, obsessed with with themselves, obsessed with their work. Vain and prideful. I had to tell them my story–the whole story, with no lies. And then, if after all that, they…if you fuck me, I get to be a dog again. Your dog, sir. Your sexy fucking mutt, and you can fuck me all fucking day long, sir. You’re the sexiest master I’ve made, and I want to be yours, sir. Please…please, fuck me.”

A Dog’s Tale (Part 7)

Needless to say, listening to my mutt’s description of that first night out in gear, I was understandably horny as fuck. Still, even in that costume, I could tell he was genuinely sad about the memory–I gave him a scritch behind his ears and that seemed to help him perk up a bit. “Sorry sir, thinking about Joel always makes me a little sad, and I don’t like being sad.”

“Ya don’t gotta be sad Fido–ya sure got me horny as fuck, talkin’ about that shit. I got a bone right here for ya, if ya want boy,” I said, showing off the outline of my hard cock in the crotch of my overalls. Fido stared at it, whined, and then looked away.

“I want to sir, you know I do. But we need to get home, don’t we? And I’m still not done with the story. I can’t…not until I tell you the whole thing, sir.”

“Yeah, probably best not tah fuck mah pup here, where everyone can see, as hot as that would be…” I said, and tapped the ash from my pipe out onto the cement and stood up, sliding it back into my pocket. “Come on boy, let’s catch the next train–I’m feelin’ a whole lot better now.”

“Yes sir!”

I admit, a part of me was still struggling to accept this, a part of me trying to insist that I’d missed some conference call, trying to tell me that my loft was on the opposite side of the city. But every time I tried to get my thoughts in order, the mutt was give me a nuzzle to make sure I was still paying good attention to his story, and so I figured it would be best to give the mutt what he wanted, let him finish, have a fuck, and then I could get my own shit straightened out.

The mutt told me about how horrible he’d felt for the next few days, about how horrible it had felt for giving in like that, but at the same time, it was craving more. It went back the next weekend, and the treatment was much the same–Fido did his very best to please Joel and all of the other men at the bar, but once again, it wasn’t enough. Joel kept abandoning him, time and time again, and he kept trying to understand why every time it happened he was so devastated.

“Finally…I realized I was in love with him. I was in love with him, but he didn’t give two shits about me, not really. I wasn’t…I was a toy, something to play with, I wasn’t a human to him at all. I don’t even know if he saw me as a pet. But I loved him unconditionally. Just seeing him would make me grin from ear to ear, and my tail would wag, and I’d get so excited because he was there again, he was back with me. I’d feel whole again. But then he’d leave–he’d always leave.”

We were off the train now, and walking through some poorly maintained apartment buildings. Fido seemed to know where he was going, and so I was following along behind, smoking my pipe again, now that we were out of the underground. It took me a moment to realize he hadn’t kept speaking, and he was looking back at me with…a strange look in his eyes. A loving look, but also desperate, and it…scared me, honestly. “So what, is that yer story, mutt?” I asked gruffly.

“Almost done. Let’s go in though, sir.”

He pointed to a door to one of the buildings, and I pulled out a thick ring of keys from my pocket, and sure enough, one of them let us into the building. The key was marked with the number “607”, so together we hiked up the stairs–the elevator was out–and arrived at an apartment. I opened the door and stepped inside, and immediately I felt…like I was home. The air smelled of my musk and my smoke–and it smelled like…Fido, too. There were dog toys all over the floor, mixed in with the grungy work clothes I tended to leave lying around. Still, it was home, but it wasn’t familiar. I didn’t know this place, even if this place seemed to know me. Fido stepped inside as well, a but cautious, but I could sense how excited he was about being here finally. I shut the door behind us, and he walked around, sniffing the air.

“Well? Here we are mutt–are you going to finish the story or not?”

He turned to me, face beaming, and nodded.

“So…I loved him. I loved Joel like I’d never loved anyone before in my life, and once I realized it…I realized he knew how I felt. He’d known longer than I had, and he hadn’t…done anything. But I needed to be with him. It didn’t feel like a choice, it was a desperate compulsion, and so one night, outside the club, I managed to chase him down, and I begged him. I begged him to…to let me be his pup.”

What is it about change and transformation that seems to go hand in hand with erotic writing?

I’m not actually convinced that they do, actually.

I mean, if you look at the vast majority of erotica and romantic literature out there, the vast majority of it has no connection to either mind control or transformation at all. Most of them are just pure hetero fantasy–sexy ladies pine and fuck sexy men–the characters are so flat, that they rarely change at all over the course of a story.

That said, if we start restricting our question away from erotica at large, and start looking more closely at stories that utilize BDSM elements, both MC and transformation begin to pop up with regularity, and I think this has less to do with stories being erotic, and more to do about MC and TF being two primary methods for characters in erotic contexts to overpower and control one another.

Because that’s really what these themes are about–they’re about control, and usually about controlling people against their own judgment and wishes.

This, I think, sets up a more interesting dichotomy in erotica, I think, between what I might call “wish” fantasies and “control” fantasies. A wish fantasy is simply about a character being given what they want–whatever that might be–but the character is generally passive. They are largely receiving whatever the plot decides to give them, but in some cases, people really enjoy that feeling of helplessness, and idea that in a desperate situation a Charming can appear and whisk them off to a happy ending. Cinderella, in my opinion, is the archetype of this kind of story–she really takes very little action through out the story–instead, the plot is enabled by everyone around her–stepmother and stepsisters, fairy godmother, the prince, etc. Her passivity is rewarded, in the end, with what she desired, a man.

The other side, I think, is the control fantasy, where a character is not given what they want immediately, but they are given the means by which they can get it. They are, at their heart, power fantasies. To stick with the Disney theme, the flip side of Cinderella, I think, is probably Aladdin. He is a scrappy fellow, given a tool by which he can control and transform the world around him, in order to pursue the woman he desires, and win her over. These characters have all of the power, and they are rewarded for their cunning, their resourcefulness, and their vision.

These two archtypes exist as two diametrically opposed, gendered fantasies. The wish fantasy, in popular culture, is generally reserved for a feminine protagonist–even a story like “Frozen”, which is generally regarded as nominally feminist, relies of the wish tropes to deprive the sisters of agency in the story, and instead pass them over the the men pursuing them. On the other hand, the control fantasy is largely masculine. The protagonists of those stories are nearly always men, pursuing women who are passive/imprisoned/helpless. 

I think that when we start talking about queer fiction, these categories start to blur together and twist into something else, but a lot of homoerotic literature, in my opinion, relies on the control tropes much more heavily than wish tropes, which is, I think, why they feel a lot more universal than they are.

You have guys getting fat and hairy and dirty but I’d like to read a story where a guys is disfigured, or disabled?

I don’t do it often, but I have done it. The most recent example I can recall was a story called “Father’s Rules”, where the character ends up losing limbs at the end of the story. There’s a few stories that feature disfigurement, usually with inanimate TF components, like “The Trophy” that might interest you as well.

If you had complete control over a man, in mind and body. Having to deal with no repercussions from it,what would you do to them?

It would depend a whole hell of a lot of who, exactly, I could have control over. If it was a stranger, I don’t think I’d feel a whole lot of interest to do much, personally–I’d rather have control over someone I know, whether I like them or hate them.

If it was a friend, or someone who enjoys my writing, I think it would be pretty fun to give them their fantasies–but probably push them further than they would have ever imagined themselves going. Someone like @pugsleypig, for example–I’d have a lot of fun turning him into exactly the kind of piece of shit faggot he longs to be, or someone like @suitedsubmissive, making the coward finally walk the talk, find a nice blue collar master for him to serve, and make him ditch that shitty white collar life of his in the most humiliating way possible.

And that’s what I would do to the people I like. I don’t think anyone really wants to hear the fantasies of shit I’d do to people I don’t like. Well, some of you probably do, I suppose, that’s why you’re here.

Your writing is such a break for me from my day to day work life. I work in a professional environment and love taking a break from reality with your wonderful and sexy writing. Do you receive lots of comments like this and how you offer a chance to live out some amazing fantasies?

Thanks, I’m glad you enjoy it! I definitely get a few comments like this one, from a lot of people. Plenty of people are looking for an escape from late stage capitalism, so whatever I can do to help ease people ennui is a good thing, I think.