Weekly Patreon Roundup

There’s a new roundup of various stories from other authors for Patrons over on my Patreon page. If you aren’t a patron at the $5 level and up, you also missed the suggested story from this week, about a tax auditor ending up on the wrong side of a livestock farmer, with some mind control, weight gain, and some animal TF too. There’s also quite a few new caption stories up on my discord server as well, for patrons at the $5 dollar level and up! Thanks to everyone for their support, and if you’d like more information, you can find it here.

Patreon Roundup!

Here’s what you might have missed if you aren’t supporting me on Patreon! First, there’s a new weekly roundup up, if you want a summary of some good stories and interactives to check out this week, and there’s also a little sketch of something called Dumb Wishes #1 about a young man wanting to like what he sees in the mirror (it was not a smart wish). There’s also some bonus captions for supporters over on my discord page too! If you’d like to find out more, check out my page here for details.

Weekly Patreon Roundup

Hey all, here’s a summary of some of the stuff you’ve missed if you aren’t supporting me on Patreon! First of all, the weekly roundup of stories, interactives, and other content I’ve found and enjoyed is up for the last week for everyone supporting me. Then, for people at the $5 level and higher, there’s the final two unpublished chapters of “Sinful Revenge” that’s in early access. There’s also four bonus captions that I’ve put up on my discord for patrons as well. You can find out more details on how to help support my writing here, and thanks again to everyone who does!

Roundup (8/15/2017)

I promised one last week, but time got away from me, so here we go! 

Tumblr Blogs

  • @andyspen – He doesn’t write all that often, but if you like filthy workers and skinheads, he’s your guy. Check the archive for his stuff!
  • @str8conversion​ – Just short captions really, but a fun blog all the same.
  • @words-only-make-it-worse – comic style photo captions with a variety of content.
  • Archives

    On occasion, I run across older archives of stories from by-gone eras that are worth revisiting, because they usually have some very nice gems. 

    Stories

    Interactives & wikis

    There’s a new wiki up on Gay Spiral Stories called “All Hail the Emperor!” up if that interests you. It’s got a lot of uniform and rubber themes, and there’s a lot of interesting directions it could go.

    Also on CYOC:

  • World shift setting, women to bears 
  • Body swap, weight gain, humiliation
  • Anthro-bear / Anthro-Skunk TFs
  • Partial Body Swaps
  • Roundup (7/16/2017)

    Edit: Forgot the link for “Bodywork below! It’s fixed now.

    As promised, here’s a fresh roundup of stories for all of you! 

    Tumblr Writers:

    Some new writers have cropped up, or reappeared, or been discovered by me for the first time, and I want to give them a shout out.

    • @chaoticdjinn – A good writer of MC/TF fiction, whose stories tend to focus on muscle growth, incest, rednecks. A little too much wish fulfillment for my liking, but lots of other people are into that. 
    • @mcbaer – An excellent writer who’s blog has been silent for a bit, but he’s been posting weekly stories lately, and they’ve all been excellent so far.
    • @kinkygaystories – While not really within the MC/TF genre all the time, the stories are hot, and for people who love caption stories, it’s a good blog to add to your list.

    Stories:

    CYOC interactives:

    CYOC has been pretty dry lately.

    For this week’s last recommendation, you have to go offline! A month or so ago, @cigarpervdad recommended this book on his tumblr, and being the curious sort, I thought I’d check it out. I have a few…issues with it–the sex scenes are great, the love story is…overwrought, and the story world has some odd inconsistencies that bother me–that but’s worth a post of it’s own.

    On balance I’d say its worth a read, especially if you like detailed bondage and SM play. You can find it on Amazon here!

    mutabear:

    I was traveling to Germany for two weeks as part of my jobs cross training program. I worked in sales, and they like to send their new employees, especially ones straight out of college, abroad to get some traveling and work experience. I really love my job, and it paid very well, so I was pretty excited to be able to travel on the company’s dime. I packed up plenty of clothing for the trip, and the flight was a breeze. When I got to my hotel there, I was very excited to find out that I was in a single room. Most other guys on this trip had to share, but I guess I was the odd man out.
    I stripped out of my clothing after the trip, admiring my smooth lean body in the mirror. My long blonde hair came down to my neck in a fashionable and messy style, and my clean-shaven face and sparkling blue eyes ensured that I had the interest of ladies very frequently. I admired my fit, trim body too. I would try to go running every morning and lift some evenings in order to stay cut, and I looked great for 22. I slid into my casual clothing and planned to hit the bars since I did not have to do anything until noon the following day and the time zone change would keep me up anyhow.
    I woke up with a rather wicked hangover when my alarm blared at 10 a.m. I started to roll out of bed, and I noticed that I felt off for some reason. I tried to sit up, and I noticed I had substantially more of a midsection than I did before. Coughing a little bit, I stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the light. I was dumbstruck with what stood before me in the mirror. Gone was my youthful body, my preppy haircuts, and my young and innocent looks. Instead of man in his late thirties stared back at me. I had a bit of a guts and my body was completely covered in brown hair. My beard had grown in, and I could even see white hair among my face. I felt horrified, but also I felt like I was lacking something. There was a deep craving inside of me that I had not known before and I felt sweaty and anxious. I did my best to clean myself up in the shower, and I shaved my body for 30 minutes to get all the disgusting hair off. I towelled off and stepped out and looked in the mirror, and was panicked when I saw it all simply grew back in when I stop shaving.
    I went to go change into my slacks and sports jacket, but was pleasantly surprised to discover the closet filled with an array of fine suits. My anxiety eased a little bit as I began putting my clothes on. I slid the silk socks at my feet, and then I noticed I seems to only have bright colored jock straps for underwear. Puzzled by this, I grabbed a red and black one and slid it on. It caressed my much larger pouch comfortably, and would do for now until I got some boxer briefs. I slid on a white V-neck shirts and began getting into my button down. A nice blue one would do for today. I then started putting on the pants, a dark grey with a nice cuff at the ankle. The tire came on next comma and I expertly tied a double windsor with a Paisley silk tie. The belt and shoes came on next, polished black soft leather that I laced up carefully and swiftly. The jacket was last, and I eased into it.
    I looked at my reflection again in the mirror. I was still missing something from my morning routine. Yeah, I looked good and ready to go in to the shareholders meeting, but there was something else I was missing. I walked back out into my hotel room, and I noticed a carved wooden box on my bedside table that was not there before. The word humidor came to mind, but I was not sure what that was. I opened the box and inside were several earthy smelling cigars, two boxes of matches, and an engraved cigar cutter. Of course! I hadn’t had my morning cigar yet. I pulled one outs and unwrapped it, expertly cutting it before walking out onto the balcony with it and my matches. I lit up and begin puffing standing and looking out at the city before me, feeling the last bit of anxiety disappear when I began smoking. I would need to grab a cup of coffee and a pastry, but then I could comfortably walk into my presentation.
    I had heard the company had sent some young guys from the Stares to sit in on the meeting at observe, so I would get plenty of eye candy while I presented. I could feel my memories changing and rearranging the more I smoked, reinforcing my new life as a business executive. I could also feel my cock starts to tent a little bit, and I understood now why I wear jockstraps with my suit. I couldn’t have my fat cock leaving a trail of pre-cum inside of it and the large pouch jockstrap would be one of the only ways to keep me secure. I was also going to need to find a piece of ass tonight, as I could not seem to remember fucking last night. Yeah, it wasn’t too hard to find a cute hairy guy around here to come over and ride my cock. Just one of the perks of being a vice president I suppose. I finished my cigar, idly rubbing my bulge as I stared out over the city from my penthouse suite. I just had to get through the day, then I could smoke another cigar, hit up some cute guys, and live the high life.

    I’m on vacation this week! This is a featured author you should go support! I’ll be back with original content next week.

    The Filth in the Gym

    muskwriter:

    I’ve always hated the Eastside gym. I mean, over the course of wrestling season you get to see a lot of kinda run-down places, but Eastside seems to have zero maintenance or janitorial budget.

    You might think I’m exaggerating, but when me and my partner Laz showed up today, the handle had literally fallen off the front door; it was being held open by an overflowing trash can. The white rat groaned as we passed by it. “How does this place even stay open?”

    “People like us holding events here, I guess,” I said. The hall that led to the locker room was uncomfortably humid and smelled of mold. “Bringing an audience to a place like this probably brings in lots of pity cash.”

    Most of the lockers were busted open, and many were so bent out of shape they wouldn’t even close. A fellow bull was in the process of trying to bang one shut, muttering curses. I didn’t even try; I just dumped my duffel bag on what was left of the bench and started stuffing my street clothes into it.

    I heard the sound of running water on the other end of the room as some foolhardy soul attempted a shower. Now me, I know this place and try to come prepared to spend as little time here as possible—my shower waits till I get home, no matter how bad I stink—but some needs can’t wait.

    Like the need that comes on sometimes with the sound of running water.

    “I know I’m going to regret this,” I said, “But fuck it, I’ve got to piss.”

    I ventured toward the facilities.


    The restroom area was as bad as I’d feared. All the urinals were cracked or outright broken, one of the stall walls had collapsed, and a couple of the toilets were missing altogether. A layer of unidentifiable grime covered the vast majority of the room.

    “This has got to be some kind of health code violation.”

    I’d half decided it might be better to just find a discreet drain in the floor to let loose in when a gray-haired gorilla in red boxers stomped in.

    “I wouldn’t risk it, boss,” I said.

    He grunted and surveyed the room, then looked back at me. “You’ll do,” he growled, gesturing at an empty stall. “Get in there.”

    I scoffed. “What? I didn’t come here to cruise, boss.”

    I tried to push past him and leave, but he blocked me with his arm, grabbed me, and lifted me up in the air.

    Fuck, he was strong. Despite my professional efforts, he had no trouble carrying me back to one of the missing-toilet stalls and tossing me against the wall.

    “Now open up,” he said, pulling down the front of his boxers with one hand and hefting an uncut gray cock in the other, which was barely big enough to wrap around it.

    “The fuck, ’rilla, I don’t even know you.”

    “Ain’t a toilet’s job to make people’s acquaintance. Open your mouth or I’ll open it for you.”

    I flipped him off and tried to scramble under the stall wall, but he grabbed hold of my leg with his foot and started dragging me back.

    Who the fuck’s bright idea was it to give gorillas opposable thumbs on their feet?

    He pulled me back into the stall and grabbed my horn, holding me at arm’s length. “Once again,” he said. “You’re going to take my piss, toilet bull. Is it going to be the easy way or the hard way?”

    “Once again,” I said, “fuck you.”

    The gorilla’s fist moved so fast that I felt the pain in my nose before I even realized he’d punched me.

    Just let him fuckin’ piss on you, the back part of my brain thought. He’s too strong for you to put up a fight. My pride wanted to rebel, but I knew this guy had me where he wanted me.

    Yet when I tried to voice my surrender, I found myself unable to move my mouth.

    In fact, as the gorilla released my horn and stood over me with his dick in his hand, I found I was unable to move anything at all.

    “That’s right.”

    A stream of piss fired from his cock and splashed across my face before he was able to aim it at my open mouth. The taste and the smell of it made me want to gag, to spit it up, to do anything to get away from it—but instead I was stuck immobile, feeling it pooling at the back of my throat, unable even to swallow.

    I don’t even know how my mouth held it all; the stream of piss went on for at least half a minute and I never felt any of it spill until the gorilla had nothing more to offer besides the last drips.

    He put his dick away, unaffected by the resentfulness I was trying to put into my stare, and grabbed hold of my left horn again.

    As he pulled down on my horn, I was horrified to find my throat opening up and the mouthful of piss rushing down into my stomach.

    Somehow, it made my mouth water.

    “It’s all downhill from here,” he said, and left.


    Frozen in place, I tried to shake off the spell. I’m not a toilet. I’m a bull. I’m not a toilet. I’m a bull. I’m stronger than this.

    An enormous gray hulk of a rabbit looked into the stall, gave me a smirk, and shut himself in with me. I watched with trepidation as he pulled his cock through the fly of his shorts and aimed it at my muzzle.

    I’m not a toilet. I’m a bull. I’m not a toilet…

    Despite the exertion of my willpower, I was unable to keep myself from opening my mouth wider, my body anticipating the rabbit’s piss.

    The yellow stream was directed straight at the back of my throat, and my traitorous body accepted it—no, revelled in it, like some kind of golden reward. For being a good toilet.

    I’m not a toilet. I’m a bull. I’m…

    My mouth opened wider, eager to take in more of it, and I felt my body fusing to the floor and the wall. This time, when he pulled down on my horn, I didn’t feel the piss collect in my belly—it flowed all the way through me, to whatever pipe was carrying the waste away.

    Fuck, I’m a toilet…

    And even though the rabbit had finished pissing, he still stood over me, slowly stroking his dark gray cock.

    “Time to finish what my buddy started.”

    I was helpless to do anything other than watch as the rabbit’s unhurried strokes brought himself to full hardness.

    “Soon there’ll be nothing left of you but another grimy fixture in this awful place…”

    I was helpless to do anything other than watch as a strand of precum slowly developed from the tip of his cock, long enough to touch my— my instinct was to call it my lip, but at this point I could really only call it my rim.

    “Filling up on piss and shit and cum and paper till the inevitable day you get clogged and left to rot like everything else here…”

    I was helpless to do anything other than watch as his breaths quickened and his paw’s movements became faster and more erratic. I knew what was going to happen; at the edge of my vision I could see that where his precum had touched, my rim had become white, smooth porcelain.

    “Welcome to your new life, stranger.”

    I was helpless to do anything other than watch as thick ropes of cum shot from his cock and splattered across me, coating me from head to— from top to bottom in his seed.

    I could feel it completing the change—not just my shape and my substance, as cum and fur combined to create porcelain and plastic and stainless steel, but my mind and my desires as well. I was a toilet now, not a…whatever I had been.

    The rabbit squeezed the last drops out of his cock, put it away, and left.

    His toilet watched him go and wished for more.


    I heard a familiar voice calling a familiar name. “Targ! It’s go time! Hello?”

    The seeker came into the bathroom area. “Where the fuck are you?”

    A white rat in black-and-white–starred boxers came looking through the stalls. “What the…”

    He looked at me, and for a moment I had a flash of memory. Laz! He recognized me, he’d find a way to—

    “There’s a fucking clean toilet? Here?” He looked around behind him and made one last half-hearted call: “Ta-aarg?”

    When no Targ answered, he said “fuck it” and came into the stall, pulling it shut and dropping his shorts.

    The part of me that remembered being the rat’s wrestling partner looked on with dread as he rested his ass on my seat, while the rest of me was overwhelmed with an eager anticipation.

    And when I started to hear him going to work—the deep inhalation before the shallow grunt as he began to push—the last bit of resistance faded away. After all, that old life I thought I remembered must not have any meaning if a friend I thought I had would be so casually feeding me his shit.

    And then it started coming.

    Shit splattered across my bowl as the rat hurried through his bowel movement, irregular grunts highlighting his effort. From my perspective as a toilet, the smell and the taste of the scat were appetizing in a way that a rapidly-shrinking corner of my brain found mortifying.

    But there was no more fighting from that corner. I focused my full attention on the sound of the rat’s sputtering asshole as he gave me everything he had—the heavy dump of a guy who had clearly been holding it in for a while.

    I was filthy on the inside, water and bowl, and I loved every second of it.

    The rat finished after a minute of feeding me and reached for the toilet paper to wipe himself. I heard the sound of it tearing and then the unmistakable sound of an empty roll spinning in its holder.

    “Fuck me,” Laz said, making a token attempt to clean his ass with the two or three squares that had been left, dropping the dirty paper in my bowl and pulling up his shorts. “That’ll teach me to ever trust this place again.”

    He was so caught up in grumbling about it as he made his way out that he entirely forgot to flush.

    And as I sat savoring the taste of him, I decided that suited me just fine.

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    Gotta Love the Pig

    muskwriter:

    The diner was usually a quiet place—even though it had the best pies in the county, it had yet to be ‘discovered’ by the folks in the city, so the clientele was mostly farmers and the older folks who lived out in the sticks.

    Myself, I’d only found it because I was looking for work and I’d already run out of places to apply that were anywhere near where I actually lived. I was half disappointed when they actually did hire me: a long commute and a low paycheck? Awesome.

    Still, every day is an opportunity to get a little bit better, and I tended to that dining room like a boss in hopes that I’d be able to move up the ladder, such as it was.

    I’d been working there a few weeks before I first saw him.

    The farmer was enormous. Now, a lot of folks are on the portly side around here, but this guy was at least a head taller than me and he was wide enough he needed to take two seats when I sat him at a table. (With a gut like his, our booths would have been out of the question altogether.)

    Most people, I’m sure, would look at a guy like him with derision or contempt. And, well, while my first reaction may not have been the kindest, there was a part of me that wished I could follow after him. Not—not necessarily to be as big as him. But to just let go of what I thought I had to be, and be…my real self, whoever that was. Maybe a little more of a slob. Maybe a little fatter, sure. Maybe a little lazier.

    I took his order and soon was bringing him out a plate piled up mostly with sausage and bacon.

    “Gotta love the pig,” he said, as he started tucking in. “Don’t know whatever we’d do without them.”

    Gotta love the pig, I thought. The sight of him eating had caused a stirring in my pants, and I made a quick retreat to the restroom to hide my sudden needy boner.

    As soon as I got out of public view I couldn’t help myself—I scrambled to pull my dick out of my pants with one hand as I locked myself in the stall with the other and sat down.

    Fuck, I want to be a pig, I thought, pumping my cock as I imagined being under the farmer’s massive belly and servicing him as he ate. The fantasy deepened, the image of myself becoming more and more piggish, grunting and squealing as my curly tail wagged from side to side. I just want to be a filthy beast for him to use…

    I don’t know if it was the fact of me being in the restroom at the time, or just because it was the easiest filthy thing I could think of, but I couldn’t help but dream of taking it further—not just being a sex pig for the enormous, glorious man, but being a toilet pig for him as well. Why make him get up for anything when he could have a portable urinal on hand at any time?

    In my daydream I was swallowing down loads of piss straight from the tap, eagerly slurping down the sharp-tasting liquid from what I imagined must be an enormous cock buried deep under all that fat.

    The thirst carried over into reality. I need to be a pig, I thought, bending down to bring my face closer to my cock, and pointing its head at my mouth. I need—

    Piss shot out before I was even ready, drenching my face and splashing over my shirt before I was able to get the stream under control. I drank in the smell and the taste of it and felt the warmth slide down my throat.

    OINK, I thought. I’m a pig.

    The thought of getting off faded as my piss stream ended. After all, what kind of release could be better than that? I pulled my pants back on and left the bathroom stall.

    I was greeted by my reflection in the mirror: all too human. A little stocky perhaps, but definitely far from a proper pig.

    I was half disappointed before I remembered my shirt was entirely drenched in urine.

    I left the bathroom, luxuriating in the smell of myself, and called out to the manager that I’d had a rather bad restroom accident and needed to go home and change.

    “Do, and you aren’t coming back,” she said.

    “Fine.”

    I left, feeling the big farmer’s eyes on me as I went.


    Of course, I didn’t change when I got back to my apartment. Why would I? In fact, I’d taken the opportunity on the drive home to piss myself a couple more times. I was soaked, I smelled amazing, and I wanted more.

    I went online and typed PIG into the personals search. What came back was far more than I’d expected: piss pigs, sure, but also scat pigs, pain pigs, scent pigs, cum pigs, fist pigs…

    Anyone can be a pig, I thought. Anyone can let go of what they think they have to do, and pig out on what they really love.

    I knew what I wanted. I posted an ad inviting all men to come and give a pig some piss. I put my home address in, too, because who wants to wrestle with emails?

    At first I was a little worried about the kind of guys who’d just show up to an ad like that, but after the first guy—a burly biker type—came in, crammed a fat cock in my face, and made me gulp down every drop of piss that gushed forth, I realized I didn’t care.

    This was my element.

    The men started arriving. I’d have three or four lined up at a time. Most wanted to use me as a urinal, making me drink down all their piss. Some were happy just to drench me in it, soaking me from head to foot. A few shoved their dicks in my ass and filled me from that end. Sometimes they’d drop a load of cum in afterwards. I didn’t care, so long as I got what I wanted.

    For a while there was a lull, and I sprawled out on my couch—noticing that someone had done me the favor of soaking it and a good deal of the rest of the room—and thought of what a good pig I was. I could smell the individual scents of every man that had came through, and their tastes had merged together into a single golden river of masculinity.

    I was so lost in pleasure that I didn’t even notice I was face down and slurping piss from the couch cushions until I heard a tentative knock from someone in the doorway.

    The man at the door was big; he wasn’t the giant that the farmer had been, but being shorter only made him look all the more round. He waddled in the door, breathing heavily—my apartment’s up a flight of stairs—and came around to take a seat on the couch beside me.

    “Hope you don’t mind if I take a load off before I share my load,” he said.

    I couldn’t hide my admiration of the big man—my hands already moved to explore the sides of his massive belly as I knelt in front of him. “Fuck,” I said. “Make yourself at home. A man like you gets carte blanche with a pig like me.”

    He chuckled, reaching down to rub my chin. “Looks like you’ve been having all sorts of piggy fun already. But let’s give this snout a whiff of me.”

    His hand moved up the side of my face, tracing along my—

    My eyes crossed as I noticed the development on my face: my nose really had grown out into a snout. And I didn’t even have time to react before the big man hooked his fingers into my nostrils and pulled my head between his legs—into the dark, humid, musky space outlined by his thighs and underbelly.

    OINK, I thought. I’m a pig.

    The smell was even more powerful than I expected. At first I couldn’t tell if it was because having a piggish snout meant I could breathe in so much more of the scent of piss, or if—

    “You know, when your belly hangs this low, you can piss yourself a little in public and no one can tell.”

    I couldn’t help myself—I buried my face deep in that crotch and suckled as much of that stale piss from the denim as I could. After a few moments, I felt a new stream forcing its way through the fabric, and I planted my mouth over it and drank as eagerly as if I’d been thirsting for days.


    More guys came around after him, but it just wasn’t the same.

    I needed to serve a big man, I knew it now, and I already knew who that big man had to be.

    I took my ad down, waited a little while for the last of the men to finish showing up—big or not, I wasn’t going to let any man’s piss go to waste—and drove back out to the country.

    Of course, I’d been taking piss all day; evening was coming on now and there was no way the farmer would still be having breakfast at the diner. However, I felt a strange sense of ‘home’ in the area, like I knew where my…where my sty was, and how to get there.

    I drove down back roads as the sun started setting; I couldn’t help but stroke my piss-filled gut on the way. It felt huge and bloated, pressed against the steering wheel, and I couldn’t get over the way it jiggled—my dick was hard as I reached down to push my seat back.

    And it wasn’t more than a couple of minutes before my gut was swollen out against the steering wheel again, making me feel squeezed into my seat. The pig is coming out, I thought, feeling the wet clothes plastered against my body grow tighter. OINK. I’m a plump sausage.

    I saw the light of a house in the distance and somehow knew it was the farmer’s home—the place I belonged.

    I pulled up and tried to turn the car off, but found my fingers wouldn’t respond. In the moonlight I could just barely make out why: I didn’t have fingers anymore, and I couldn’t figure out how to make my trotters grab hold of stuff.

    I decided to leave it running. The farmer would take care of it. I opened the car door—which was a little easier, but only barely—and before I could make two steps out I tumbled onto the ground.

    That was silly, I thought, as I tried to work out what’d happened. Trying to walk upright. I’m a pig.

    I went on all fours to the front door of the house, feeling my belly dragging on the ground the whole way. I’m gonna be the best pig. I could probably have reached the doorbell with a bit of effort but what kind of pig would do that?

    I squealed long and loud until the farmer came to the door. My master, my owner, my farmer. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.

    Like a good farmer he recognized me right away, even though I’d changed a lot since last he saw me. “Gotta love the pig,” he said, sighing a bit. “C’mon, porker. Welcome home.”



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    I’m on vacation this week! This is a featured author you should go support! I’ll be back with original content next week.

    Roundup (3/18/2017)

     I meant to do one of these last week, but I got a bit distracted with various other life things–so there’s a good amount of stuff I wanted to link to this time around. Links are provided, of course.

    Stories

    “Redesigning the Architect” by Potentialsinner – The second part of this one was posted, and if you liked the first one, the second chunk is even better.

    “Hexes Anonymous: Daniel” by Imperatenor – A nice humiliation tale, with some excellent watersports content–in particular, I really like how this story treats incontinence.

    “Copping Out” – by Imperatenor – A solid masculine/aggressive cop TF. If you’ve got opinions on the intersection of politics, sex and TF, then the comment thread below might interest you as well. Mostly, I think the story could have been done in a more interesting/complex fashion, but *shrug*.

    “Queer Happenings” by @anothermeekone​ – This massive story dropped out of thin air, and it’s extremely hot. I also have metawriting things to say about it! Hopefully those things will get said at some point soon! If you’re in City of Bears withdraw and like furries, then here’s something you’ll love.

    “The Men’s Room” by Potentialsinner – another new chunk here, which is hotter, in my opinion, than the last two. A nice takedown of a wealthy prick into a new slave.

    “My Alpha” by Pupper – This is an exceptional story for a first time poster–I was super impressed. If you’re a fan of musk and pup play, then this is great stuff.

    “The Colony” by @xenoxephyr – Do you like SF stories with strange transformations? Because this is one of them. Very hot all the same, especially if you like weight gain.

    “Disappearing Act” by @vikingzombieboyfriend (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3) – It’s not the story I want from him (I really need more of Church’s Story) but I’ll take it all the same. 

    Interactives

    Note: If a story is relatively simple, I probably won’t offer much of an explanation. Links provided may not provide all of the necessary context to understand what’s happening in a story–I usually pick chapters to link where the action starts. You may need to back up a bit if things are confusing, to get the full story.

    Caveman TF 1 / Caveman TF 2

    Slob TF – I’ve gotten a few messages asking me to expand the bigfoot story, but I just wasn’t sure where to go with it in an interesting direction. I did finally post a bunch of additions to this branch, however! It’s got…quite a bit of scat, depending on how you feel about that.

    Jeans TF – One option is shitty werewolves, the other is slob focused. 

    Redneck TF – I linked to this one last roundup, and added a few chapters of my own, pushing things in…my sort of direction.

    Toilet/Urinal TF

    Pig/Skunk TF 

    Troll TF 1 / Troll TF 2

    That’s all I got! Enjoy.