September Patreon Suggestions Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

This month’s suggested stories are done and ready for all you patrons to download! 

Each month I take suggestions, and use them to write a few short pieces based on those prompts. This month, there’s a sequel to an older story of mine called “The Audition”, some weight gain and mind drain, piss addiction and mind control, and an inanimate pipe TF and some pipe bear fun to go with it! All it takes is one dollar a month to be able to submit ideas, and read the completed stories. To give you an idea of what these look like, here’s a suggestion I took from August.

Loopholes

Barron could, in some possible world, forgive one of his neighbors for having a dog, even if it was against the rules of the building. He had, in fact, tried to be patient. Most of the time, in fact, the dog seemed to be well behaved, or at the very least quiet, but this was the third Saturday in a row where he had been woken from a dead sleep at six in the morning by the sound of the mutt yapping its head off through the wall. He dialed the number for the building office below, but got no one–maybe it was too early. In any case, something had to be done–Barron was sick of it. He threw on some clothes, left his condo, and pounded on his neighbor’s door.

It was a few moments before the door opened, and a younger man peeked through the crack. He was new to the building–in fact, Barron hadn’t even gotten the young man’s name yet, but this was as good an introduction as any. “Hey, I’m your neighbor–I can’t help but hear that you have a dog in there–through my wall. You know this building has a no pet policy, right? It’s in our contract?”

The young man smiled, “Ah, I had a conversation with the office about that actually, and we worked out a clarification to that. See, it isn’t a no pet policy, really, but a no “animal” policy. I found that to be fair for me and my pup.”

Barron just stared at him confused.

“Look, step inside and see for yourself! He’s very nice, and he loves strangers,” he said, and opened the door so Barron could step inside. He did so, and in the living room, he found himself looking at…well, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even he had to admit that it wasn’t a dog. It was a man. A man in a rubber suit of some sort…but even that wasn’t quite right, because looking at him, on all fours…his body was all wrong.

“Isn’t he cute? His name is Rover Collins. Say hi Rover!”

Rover turned in a circle and gave a bark, giving Barron a chance to see all of him–including his face, the lower half of which was obscured by a rubber mask, which wrapped up the side of his head to a pair of floppy rubber ears. The eyes–he knew those eyes. “Wait, Robert?” Barron asked, “Is that you?”

Rover didn’t reply, but Barron knew it had to be him–Robert Collins, another neighbor of his on this floor.

The young man came up behind him, and Barron turned and saw that he, too, was wearing a rubber suit, with a generous opening for his cock and balls in the crotch. “Robert and I had a nice chat a couple weeks ago. I told him how much I missed having a pup, you see, and he was more than willing to help, right Rover?”

“This…what the fuck is this?”

“But I thought, why stop at puppies, you know? I have so many ideas, and so many neighbors! Like you. I was hoping you’d come by today, Barron–I’ve had Rover barking his head off, just for you.”

Barron shoved his way past the young man and ran for the door, but he ran right into someone standing in the doorway. Looking up, he recognized the face of Mr. Harrison, the building supervisor, leering down at him with a cruel grin on his face, under the rubber hood he was wearing, and the rubber shirt, and vest, and pants, and boots. “See? Part of my understanding with management was that Mr. Harrison was going to help me with…enforcement, right Harrison?”

“Yes master,” Harrison said, stepped forward and began tearing at Barron’s clothes until he was completely naked, and then the young man grabbed him in his rubber coated arms, and he felt the rubber turn wet, and begin creeping over his skin. “Now now, just relax. You’ll enjoy being my big bull so much, trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Yeah, come on, that’s it,”

Barron moaned, a bit groggy, and tried to move, but his arms and legs didn’t seem to be working correctly, leaving him flailing on his side.

“Come on ya big lug, you can do it. Harrison, he’s heavy! Give me a hand.”

Barron felt four hands on his back, but instead of helping him stand upright, they rolled him towards his belly. He felt his arms and legs get under him, somehow, and he stood, shaky, looking down at the carpeted floor below him, disoriented.

“There you go, Mr. Bull! That’s very good.” The praise made his heart flutter a bit, but everything still seemed so…strange to him. What was going on? He didn’t remember much at all, beyond Robert, and then Harrison. The young man tugged something in front of his face, and he felt a sharp pain in his nose. “Come on, I want you to see.”

His arms and legs walked, but it didn’t seem to be in a way he found familiar. For one thing, why were his arms and legs the same length? He tried to look down and back under himself, but the young man kept his head up by tugging on whatever was attached to his face, until they arrived in front of a mirror, and he let Barron see his body.

The rubber…it was everywhere, but it didn’t feel like he was wearing it. It felt…like his skin, like it was a part of him. It covered his arms and legs, and they were molded to look like a cattle’s four limbs, with thick shoulders and haunches, and heavy hooves where his hands and feet ought to be. Were…were they in there? He couldn’t feel them at all. He lifted one front leg and shook the hoof, scared out of his mind. There was a rubber bull tail whipping above his ass, and his cock…what the fuck had happened to his cock and balls? He saw a thick, black cock slide out of a rubber sheath running along his belly, close to a foot long, but his balls…they didn’t look like balls anymore, they looked like an udder. His face was covered mostly in rubber, like Robert’s was, aside for the eyes. His mouth was twisted into a bullish snout, and in the end was a thick steel ring–that’s what the young man had been tugging on.

“What do you think, Mr. Bull? You’re going to be providing a lot of milk for me and the rest of my pets. From now on. Good, healthy milk.” He got down, put a bowl under Barron’s udder, and tugged on one rubber teat. He moaned in pleasure as a squirt of thick cum jetted out into the bowl, and then another, each tug like a miniature orgasm, and each time, he felt his mind shrink further and further away from him, until he was mooing and looing like a real bull, eager for his master to hook him up to the pumping station for the day, and drain him dry.

On Monday, Barron tugged the sleeve of his suit down self-consciously, did one last inspection in the mirror, and slipped out of his condo. Robert was leaving as he came out, but avoided making any eye contact with him. He couldn’t blame him, really–but he felt his cock slip a bit out of his sheath at the thought of how he’d fucked Rover’s hole on Sunday, while Master and Harrison had cheered them on. His balls gave a little squirt too, and looking down he saw he already had a stain on the front of his trousers from them leaking. This…this was going to be a challenge.

The door beside him opened, and Master poked his head out. “Shouldn’t you be betting to work, Mr. Bull?” he looked down, and smiled.

“I…I can’t go like this. Can’t you change me all the way back? Please? Just for work?”

“Then how will you remember that you’re my pet?” Master said, “Come in, I can do something else for you instead.”

A few minutes later, Barron left Master’s apartment, fiddling with his crotch, blushing profusely. A fucking diaper–he was wearing a fucking diaper. On the subway a bit later, to his horror, he felt his cock release a blast of piss into his pants as well–but true to his word, Master’s diaper sucked it all down. It seemed…hungry. Was it…a person too?

He pushed the thought away, and focused on getting to work. Keep Master happy, and everything would be fine, he told himself. Be a good pet, and everything would be just fine.

September Patreon Suggestions Ready for Download! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Arctos: Cable (Part 2)

“Come on, bro, get off me–I’m late for my fuckin’ class…”

Jared pushed mah head up, ‘n I moaned–how fuckin’ much did I fuckin’ drink last night? I mean, I ain’t no stranger tah hangovers by any fuckin’ measure, but this one was like someone had dropped an engine block on my noggin. Beside me, Jared gets up and stretches, givin’ his big jock gut a nice scratch,’n then heads fer his room–in front a me, the TV is still on, but unlike the night before, it ain’t holdin’ mah attention–just a fuckin’ rerun. I know all these Mechanic Stars episodes by heart anyway.

I haul mahself outta the deep indent in the couch, but it seems a bit…harder than it should be, fer some reason, ‘n give a good belch, mah gut rumblin’ when I do.

“Nice one, bro!” Jared shouts from his room.

“Plenty more where that shit came from, trust me–’n git a load a this!” I hike up a leg, give a shake, and pop outta fart fer him too, hearin’ ‘em chuckle as he’s gittin’ dressed. “Fuck, what fuckin’ day is it, anyway?” I mutter.

“Tuesday–don’t you have work, bro?”

Fuck, Jared’s right–I gotta be at the shop in a few hours. Still–first things first, gotta take a leak. I heft myself into the bathroom, stand in front a the toilet ‘n let loose, the sharp stench a beer piss in mah nose, ‘n I grunt. From the sound a it, I’m gettin’ most in the bowl at least, but I ain’t never been one tah aim real good. Doesn’t help I can’t fuckin’ see mah cock either! I give it a shake, and go to back out, when I see mahself in the mirror…’n I freeze.

I freeze ‘cause the fucker I’m seein’? That ain’t the fucker I ‘member bein’ the night before.

I mean, sure, I remember mahself good enough. Three hunderd pounds a beef right there, huge fuckin’ gut, hefty moobs, covered in a whole lotta fur. Fat jowly face with a big goatee–same style as Mick on Mechanic Stars, cause he’s mah favorite–shaved head too. I see all that–I know that’s me, but at the same fuckin’ time, I know it ain’t right, but I can’t pin down why I fuckin’ think that!

“Make way bro,” Jared says, and squeezes past me to the toilet, adding his own load a piss on top a mine. I wanna ask ‘em if he…thinks this is right. I mean–he’s the one in college, right? Not that he’s smart ‘r anythin’, he’s a meathead jock, really, but I’m dumber than he is.

“Jared–is there…do I look right to ya this mornin’?”

“I mean, ya could do the world a favor and take a shower, but you’re the same big pig as always, Mike.”

“Yeah, but…coulda sworm I was…that we was…”

Jared finished pissin’ ‘n squeezed back past, my cock doin’ a little throb when his gut slides by. “Sorry man, gotta go. If I’m late to class again, they might kick me off the team.”

“Yeah, sure–a’ight…”

Mah belly was growlin’–I never can think ‘bout shit on a empty gut. I git in the kitchen ‘n cook mahself breakfast–Jared eats a bit and then runs out the door, wearing his usual grungy looking gym gear a ain’t never seen ‘em wash in his life. Still–smells damn fine. So does breakfast–might feed a regular family a four, but I sit down at the table ‘n inhale all a it by mahself, lean back and let out a long belch, feelin’ a whole lot better. Still, I’m havin’ a hard time shakin’ the feelin’ that somethin’ just ain’t quite right ‘bout all a this, ‘n I try ‘n think back tah the night before.

I swear I was studyin’ shit, ‘n then I got sucked intah that marathon a Mechanic Stars…Yeah! ‘N when I got home yesterday, Jared was zoned out too, in front a the fuckin’ game! Did…did the fuckin’ TV do this shit tah us?

I hear a click, ‘n the sound a the TV flippin’ on all by itself.

“Think we have ourselves a smart one in here, don’t you Mick?”

I know that voice–it’s one a the mechanic stars! I look out at the TV, ‘n see Mick ‘n JD from the show on the screen, just…starin’. Starin’ at me.

“Have a seat, Mike.”

Their voices ain’t right. They ain’t got the drawl they usually do. I should run, but instead, I waddle back intah the room and sit back down on the couch.

“Yeah, there’s the stupid fucker, look at the fucking slob.”

“Keep your eyes here Mike–we know what you want–what you like to watch.”

The two mechanics turned tah one another on the screen, ‘n started makin’ out, sloberin’ all o’er each other’s fuckin’ faces, greasy hands, grubby clothes, ‘n I can’t fuckin’ tear mah fuckin’ eyes away. I feel mah cock throb again, ‘n reach into my nasty boxer shorts tah start strokin’ it, mouth open, drollin’ intah mah goatee.

“Yeah, I think the pig likes it, don’t you Mick?”

“Of course he likes it–he’s just a stupid, disgusting mechanic pig like us–what else could he possibly be?”

“Probably spends all night slobbering over that sexy jock roommate of his, begging him to fuck his dirty piggy hole with his cock, smelling his old jockstraps while he jacks off.”

There’s….somethin’ in mah hand. I bring it tah mah face, ‘n sure ‘nough, it’s one a Jared’s rank jocks. I take a long snort a his musk ‘n feel mah cock start leakin, I shove the thing in mah maw and start suckin’ on it.

“Yeah, that’s a good piggy–give in. Let yourself go. TV knows what’s good for you, TV knows what you are. You’re a nasty fucking piggy, and you’re happy as can fucking be.”

It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true. I can feel those old memories just drainin’ out mah head, I’m so dense anyway, can’t remember much shit at all! I’m fuckin’ close though, strokin’ hard suckin’ on Jared’s jock ‘n sniffin’ mah filthy pits–mah cock explodes all over mah thighs, ‘n I’m pantin’ ‘n huffin’, sweatin’ all o’er but feel so fuckin’ good…

Then I look ‘oer, ‘n see Jared in the doorway–must a fergotten somethin’–yeah, fergot tah fuck his pig, a course! Fuck it if he’s late fer class–he knows he can’t leave wit’out plowin’ mah shit hole!

Arctos: Cable (Part 1)

A shorter something based off a caption I did for a pic over in the bear TF discord channel.

I knew something was up when I came home to the sound of the TV on.  Jared, my roommate in the apartment we shared, almost never watched TV–he spent almost all of his time holed up in his room, either reading or studying for classes. We were both fairly nerdy guys: quiet and reserved, and we’d always gotten along well, which is why we’d moved in together. Listening, it sounded like the TV was tuned to a sports channel, which was even stranger. I went inside, dropped my bag–and that’s when I saw him.

Jared–he wasn’t the Jared I remembered. He was on the couch in a pair of mesh shorts, jaw dropped, a bit of drool in the goatee he had somehow grown in the course of a day…but it was the belly that had sprouted which I found the most concerning. “Jared?” I asked, and he didn’t seem to hear me, “Jared!”

With a start, he looked over at me, eyes a bit dull…and I saw the empty beer cans scattered over the side table. “Hey roomie! What’s up? Some Arctos cable guy came by today, said we gots a free upgrade on the box. Picture’s fuckin’ great now! Sit down, let’s watch a bit.”

I didn’t know what to say–did he not see what had happened to him? I tried to point out how different he was, but he didn’t seem interested in listening–and before I could get him to pay attention, he was focused back in on the TV screen. Unnerved, I retreated to my room, keeping my eyes averted from the TV, and shut myself inside my room. Was I just imagining things? Jared certainly hadn’t seemed to notice anything wrong at all–and the more I thought about it, the harder time I was having trying to remember what, exactly, Jared had looked like earlier that morning. After all, hadn’t I left him right there, like usual, watching TV? He was always watching TV, wasn’t he?

I did my best to focus on my school work, but I swear Jared kept turning the volume on the TV up as the evening wore on. I went out to get some food and asked him to keep it down a bit, but he didn’t pay me any attention and just kept chugging the beer he had in his hand. “Whatever, bro,” he said to me, and let off a huge belch. I retreated back to my room, still keeping my eyes away from the TV as best I could. Once it came time to get to bed, however, I could hear the TV–and Jared snoring–through the walls of the apartment. I was going to have to go out there and turn it off at least so I could get some rest.

I crept out into the living room, and there Jared was, snoring away, his big hairy gut hanging out, cap on backwards, passed out drunk. What a fucking lout, I thought–what was I doing sharing an apartment with a fat, lazy pig like this anyway? I started digging around for the remote and eventually found it wedged under Jared’s ass, pointed it at the TV and tried to turn it off–but I must have hit the wrong button, because instead of turning off, the channel changed to something else. It wasn’t a show that I recognized at all, but at first look it seemed to be a reality show of some sort focused around a chop shop–a bunch of grungy looking mechanics covered in grease talking about the cars and motorcycles they were fixing and modding at the moment–however, it was the guy on the screen that caught my attention. He was speaking in a deep southern drawl, and this big, thick beard, and looked to be close to 400 pounds–just massive, and all of it packed into the grubby coveralls he was wearing.

After staring at the screen for a couple of minutes, I found myself becoming more interested in the content too–I decided to have a seat on the couch and at least finish the episode out. Then, when that one was finished, I discovered it was a marathon of the show…and I couldn’t very well watch just one episode, right? My hand found its way down to the side of the couch, where it fished up a can of beer–I popped it open and took a long swig, while my free hand started rubbing the crotch of my shorts, thinking about how sexy it would be to work somewhere like that–the smell of grease, the musk of my fellow mechanics, working with my hands. Still, I was starting to get tired, and while I tried to fight it as best I could, the beers were only making things worse. The last thing I remember is lying my head over onto Jared’s shoulder, and then I was out.

I think I remember hearing that you were down south? Anyway I was just thinking about Texas and other southern states that I’ve been hit by the Hurricanes. What’s your response to that? Or generally the attitude and actions have been taken and light of what’s been going on with regards to Emergency Response flooding and everything else

Nah, I’m up here in the Northwest. I don’t know much about what’s been going on with the hurricane stuff–we’ve mostly been dealing with a whole lot of fires up here. The rains finally come though, so that should be sorted out soonish.

Symbiotic Justice (Part 5)

CW: Rape, Violence

Lief’s mind struggled, in the end. It couldn’t help but struggle as the grey matter within his skull was pierced over and over my countless tentacles, and slowly drained away, the new knot of the alien’s thoughts overwhelming him. Lief didn’t exist anymore, not really. There were bits of him, in the beast’s thoughts–the occasional memory, and certainly plenty of the hosts intellect was preserved. The beast was thankful to have found a host with self-awareness. Usually it’s kind simply took over whatever creature happened across it, eventually consuming every lifeform on the planet, gaining sentience as it’s hive mind grew larger and larger. But to have taken over such a intelligent creature to begin with–this world would fall much more quickly than most.

The three wrestlers writhed in agony, and behind the parasite, the coach pushed himself to his feet, jaw sagging, eyes a pale, milky white. The same milky emptiness of Lief’s parents, of all of the new thralls it had made. It was the only fate reserved for those beings too weak to give it much nourishment, but who could still be of use to it, before the culling to come. “Get your car. Be around back, and ready to transport them,” the beast said. The words were no longer human, but the thrall knew what it’s master desired, and left the room, the parasite shuddering, growing, hair filling in across the rest of his body, writhing in delight, jaw cracking and breaking, his mouth widening as more teeth pushed their way through his bleeding gums. Claws long and sickle sharp, bestial feet capable of sprinting faster than sixty miles an hour.

When each young wrestler had been reduced to a husk, barely alive, the beast began to fill them with seed, like it had his brother and the other two jocks now in the basement of Lief’s home–which the parasite had converted into its lair. Half an hour later, the jocks were full, gelatinous and pale, barely able to keep their forms upright, but they followed their master back out of the locker room, and onto the track, where the coach was waiting. Together, they loaded the three into his truck–but it was too small for for the parasite’s now ten foot frame. He gave the coach directions, and bounded off into the evening, heading home its own way–through the field where it had been born.

And there, crossing that field, he found Jimmy. Jimmy, a junior at school, weak and frail, and picked on almost as much as Lief had been. Lief smelled him–no good as food, no good as a thrall…no good for anything…and yet the remaining bits of the host’s mind were clammering at it, demanding…justice. The parasite had no understanding of this concept, but saw no reason why its host couldn’t be granted its desire in this case. Before Jimmy could react, the beast was upon him, wrapping him in his three cocks, stinging and paralyzing him, before hefting his limp, bleeding body up over one hairy shoulder and carrying him to its lair.

The parasite beat the coach there–it took a moment to deposit the immobile, but whimpering Jimmy on the basement floor, and waited while the coach ushered the three flabby things which had been Erik’s best friends down into the dank, quiet space below. Erik–or the thing that had been Erik–muttered and groaned at the sight of it’s master, eager to please it, but it could do little now that the seed filling him had begun to grow. It was eating away at the rest of Erik’s body, the parts the beast couldn’t feed on, Erik’s arms and legs withering, his gut and body bloating, skin growing tough and leathery, head slowly melting into the rest of his body. The other two, Tommy and Mason, Lief had wanted to toy with them a bit longer, and they flailed over to the beast, licking and sucking at it, hungry for more seed, hungry to be completed, and the three wrestlers joined them–but the beast shoved them all away with a roar, grabbed Jimmy by the hair, and dragged him to where Erik’s decaying body was gently throbbing with new life.

It was close now, only a few more hours before the seed would be complete. The beast settled against the opposite wall, and allowed its other seed-carriers to service it, sucking at its cocks and nipples, licking its fur, hungry for the sustenance only it could provide them. Slowly, Erik’s face hardened, the eyes dying away, skin growing brittle and hard, until it cracked apart and crumbled away, leaving just a small, rocky ball where his brother had been moment’s before. Jimmy stared at it–it was all he could do, frozen as he was, and after a couple of moments, the rocky pouch pulsed, and burst–releasing a slimy tentacle which crawled over to him and latched onto his cock.

It would be a couple of hours, while the new beast bonded with his host–in the meantime, the parasite should hunt and bring back some food for them both–it would enjoy watching Jimmy feed, enjoy watching him learn the kind of power they could have now, the kind of power these creatures could give them. Garrett, on the lacrosse team, had always been particularly vicious to Jimmy, as had his father, one of the coaches at school. A bit…old and chubby for a proper meal, but delicious all the same. The beast hefted himself up, and noticed the coach was still there, at the base of the stairs, doing nothing. He could be bait, at least. He whispered in the coach’s ear, caressing him gently with his claws, and then they emerged from the basement and into the night. A new world, the beast thought, and what a delicious world it was.

I’ve been following the Alien story you’re writing rn, and this gave me some ideas. Have you thought writing about a brain parasyte which induces lust in it’s host and makes them extremly potent, while the parasyte itself wants to use the host’s sperm to breed? It takes over your body and enlarges your testicles and your whole body becomes extremly sensitive, the urge of planting your seed in someone else making you loose touch with reality and becoming either consumed, or consuming others.;3

It’s certainly a nice idea! I like it a lot, actually.

How do you maintain your self control when writing? By that, I mean, how do you keep from jerking off, killing your writing buzz, and abandoning a story? I’ve been in this boat too many times to count. The desire to write is there, but my hand gets in the way.

Well, learning out to write when you aren’t crazy horny is a good technique that I’ve slowly gotten better at. Beyond that, I’ve gotten better at edging over time, and just trying to keep my hand off until I’m ready to be done with writing for the day.

Mary try more General then how about this? The worst characters are in television movies and video games but there’s still in many ways on satisfying it least the sum and you’ve expressed some of this. What are aspects that you think can be more generally integrated into them and that you’re hoping to see but you feel are missing?

Alright, I can give some thoughts on diversity in media in general.

I think, when we talk about diversity, the conversation tends to get flattened into a question of representation–that is, the question usually becomes, “what sort of ratio of characters in media should come from marginalized and under-represented groups and populations?” This is an important part of the discussion for sure, but I don’t think increased representation is enough.

I think, rather, that what’s missing most is diversity at the creative, authorial level. It isn’t just important to have diversity is casting–if anything, it’s much, much more important to have diversity in storytellers. That is, we need to be doing much more to elevate and promote stories written by diverse groups, and making sure that they reach a broad, mainstream audience. 

I think we’re seeing some good progress on that front, and I think it’s beginning to be recognized as something that needs to happen. It’s excellent, for example, that Donald Glover just won an Emmy for best director, for his show “Atlanta”. I think the move “Get Out” is quite simply one of the best films I’ve seen in years. While I haven’t read it, I’ve heard that Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Black Panther is excellent story telling as well. In the end, we have to be more concerned with “good” representation, rather than “enough” representation, and the best way we can do that is to promote diverse creators and their content.

With regards to what is arguably a backlash to Greater diversity and Comics. What do you think are some of the things that been successful about Marvel and its attempts to expand its roster what have been failures. What are legit complaints what are spurious ones. And what are ones that you would have an advice you would have in order to change them

Honestly, I don’t follow comics much at all, so I don’t really know enough about it to be able to comment on it to the extent you’d like.