How much percentage of time and energy do you spent on writing? As a free rider it would be sorry to see you burnout.

It varies a bit from month to month, but let me summarize it this way. Here’s the base amount of words I publish in a month:

For the tumblr, I post around 1000 words a day seven days a week (currently), so that’s about 30,000 words, give or take a day.

For Patreon, I post about 8000-10,000 bonus content per month separate from that.

Then, for Patreon commissions, I write anywhere from 10,000 to 13,000 words, though some of that can overlap with the tumblr stuff.

That’s…basically anywhere from 45,000 to 60,000 words a month, at a minimum–I have months where I’m more productive than that, and I have some where I’m less (like this month, which was…a bit rough, getting everything done!)

If I’m writing at speed, I can do around 1500 to 2000 words an hour, so over the course of the month, if I’m working at my most efficient speed (hahaha, yeah right) then I put in around 30 hours a month writing. That doesn’t account for administrative stuff, like discussing commissions, editing, revising, managing Patreon, brainstorming, etc. I’m also not usually working efficiently, so I’d ballpark it at 40-50 hours a month, or 10-15 hours a week. My general goal is to write 10,000 words a week, and sometimes I can hit 15,000 if the stars align.

As far as burnout goes….that’s a legitimate concern. It hasn’t really reared its; ugly head as badly as it has in the past, I think, and I do have quite a bit of content squirreled away if I really hit a rough patch. Mostly I just need the money more than anything else, especially since income has been tight for us the last few months, due to some job struggles. If anything, I mostly feel bad that the daily grind of the tumblr posts really cuts into a lot of the longer form stories I want to write, publish and post someday, but which I just don’t have time to work on. For now, this is working, and I enjoy it, and I’m glad other people enjoy it, and anyone who can pitch in one buck, or buy one of my stories on itch.io, or hell, just pitch me a couple bucks on paypal or zelle or whatever has my unending gratitude.

Ever give any thought to doing some stuff with male pregnancy?

Thought about it? I suppose I’ve thought about a lot of things, but as someone who is…very against childbirth and people having children, I have a hard time finding anything relating to pregnancy arousing.

That said, I’m all for guys getting impregnated with something extraterrestrial or alien, rubber, eggs, monsters, strange shit like that, so I suppose it has to do with how banal of a pregnancy we’re discussing.

April 2018 Suggested Stories Ready for Download | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

The suggested stories from this month are also ready to download! One dollar a months gets you access to three or four vignettes, like the one below, each month (as well as all of those I’ve written previously!) It also gives you the ability to suggest ideas for these at the beginning of each month.

Milk the Fat Right Off

“Dude, you can’t keep eating like that! Coach told you that you have to start cutting–we have a meet next week!” Reggie said, as he watched Max pile up yet another full tray of food and start gorging himself.

“I can’t help it man, I’m fucking hungry.”

“Well no shit you’re hungry, you’re cutting.”

“No man, trust me, I got this. There’s this new fucking place in town, it’s fucking amazing. You go there, for free, and…I don’t know the details of it or what they do, because they put you under or something for the procedure, but when you leave, you’re fucking cut, like they sucked the fat right off of you.”

Reggie just looked at him like he was crazy…but Max had been acting kind of strange for the last few months, and his weight had been swinging wildly. He would gain 25 or hell, even 50 pounds in a few weeks, stuffing himself night and day, disappear for a day, and come back in time for a meet, and somehow slide right into his ideal weight class. It didn’t make sense, but Reggie was sure it was some eating disorder…and he was really worried about him. He’d gone through a real rough patch of binging and purging in high school, and he knew what it looked like, even if he’d never swung quite as wildly as Max managed on a regular basis. Still, Max kept eating, and Reggie decided he was going to follow him, and see what, exactly, this magical place was he was talking about.

The Friday before the meet, Max headed downtown, and Reggie followed him to a rather boring looking office park. There, he went into the Fat Studies Clinic, a place Reggie had never heard of. He gave it an hour, and then went in after him, just to see what was going on. He meant to ask the receptionist what they did there, but the nice young man chatted with him for a while…and there was an odd buzzing in his ear, something he couldn’t quite pin down. Before he really understood how it happened, he’d agreed to a trial–he was ushered into a small room, where a man drew some blood, announced he was a viable candidate (whatever that meant) and they took him deeper into the building, and the buzz kept getting louder, and his head kept getting more and more thick.

They got him undressed, and they gave him a shot–a very large shot–and one that hurt like hell, all over his body. He demanded to know what they had done to him, but they said nothing, and just dragged him into a room full of food–and as soon as he saw it, he had to eat it–he was ravenous. He didn’t know how long he stuffed himself in that room–all he knew was that he was still hungry when the men pulled him away, and when he looked down at himself, he was horrified to see he had somehow gained nearly 100 pounds of pure fat, a huge gut and two moobs hanging off of him, as the doctors, ecstatic at his performance, dragged him to another room, strapped him into a chair–and then he saw the thing filling the rest of the room, and started shaking.

He didn’t know what it was at first, just some heaving blob of flesh. As they secured the milking tube over his cock, he realized it was actually…a person. A massively obese person, larger than should even be possible, just staring at him, licking his lips…but the sound he’d been hearlng was even louder here, and Reggie found his disgust giving way to fascination, and then to arousal. He was…beautiful. So massive, so fat–it was good to be fat, but he…he didn’t deserve to be fat, no, he…he only got fat so he could serve him, his massively obese master, his god.

His cock was rock hard, and the doctors slipped a tube over it–and then the milking began. It ached for a few moments–but the flow of his cum began right away, and the pleasure was unlike any orgasm he’d ever felt before. The cum looked strange as well–too thick, and almost like cream. It flowed through the tube and over to the obese man, who drank it all down, from a massive pipe hanging over him on the ceiling, and Reggie watched it run down his multitude of chins–wishing it could be him devouring it, getting fatter and fatter…and to his horror, he realized he was shrinking. The cum he was putting out wasn’t just cum, it was all of his fat, all of the fat he’d just gained was disappearing. After an hour with the machine, he was more cut than he’d ever been in his entire life, but depressed and angry and sad at his body–a body he knew he should desire, but that he no longer wanted. Once they released him, he went right over to the massive man in his grief, over to his Master, his God, and began worshiping his fat, serving him, cleaning him, longing to be close to him, knowing that he could at least provide his god with the fat he desired, that he wasn’t worth of gaining any himself.

Max was there too, climbing over their Master, and they fucked for his amusement right there on his massive gut, both of them eager to do whatever they could for their lord–and that evening, they left with no solid memories of their time there. Both of them won their division at the meet that day, but the hunger never went away, the desire to gain, and Dennis discovered that everything they ate became fat nearly instantly. Reggie packed on the pounds especially quick–three days later he was back to being morbidly obese–not quite as large as he’d been in the lab, but close. He was horny too–so horny, but he couldn’t get off, no matter how hard he tried, even if Max helped. He…he had to go back. That was the only place he could get relief–that was the only place he’d find relief ever again.

April 2018 Suggested Stories Ready for Download | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Know where to find lots of rubber stories?

The #rubber tag on Gay Spiral Stories is a good place to start. https://www.gayspiralstories.com/newStory/search?tagList=rubber&tagSearchMode=or&useAlias=true&searchTerm=

You can also find some on MC stories under the fetish category, which usually involves clothing fetishes of one sort or another. The blue underlined stories are the ones with M/M content: http://mcstories.com/Tags/ft.html

There’s some good stuff on CYOC too, and the search function has been greatly improved as of late. Happy hunting!

can you have someone transformed into that pipe smoking grandpa in a harness that you liked in your next image story?

Maybe? Image stories are more of a spare time thing, and I haven’t had a lot of that recently. More than that, I don’t really plan my stories out like that–I usually mix and match pictures until I get a strange combination, and then write the story from that medley. That said, you can always suggest stories through Patreon, if there’s something you would like to see written in particular!