April 15, 2014

“What did she mean though, when she said we both couldn’t get what we want, though? I mean, we should just think about this for a second, is all I mean.”

“What’s to think about? Either we get the bodies we want, or it doesn’t work.”

Jamie and Paul looked at the two identical potions the witch had given them—and they both drank them down in a single gulp. It was obvious, before long, that magic was definitely real, and Jamie felt his body lengthen, his gut and kid fat shrink away replaced by muscle, his small, three inch cock lengthening out to seven inches. He was hot! He was a fucking stud!

Laughing, he looked up at his friend, and his smile died on his face. Paul was looking down at his middle aged body, fat gutted and thin limbed, his dick as small as a straw, but when Paul looked up at him—it wasn’t his friend’s kind eyes, and a sneer curled under his mustache. “Get over here and suck me off, bitch,” he said, and Jamie tried to say no, but he couldn’t resist the compulsion. He got down and started sucking on his friend’s—no, his master’s tiny cock, but it was beautiful. It was his favorite cock in the world.

April 10, 2014

Sketch #9 - Mark and Jerry

Mark furrowed his brow, not entirely sure what to make of the email he’d just received from his boss down the hall. Part of it he could understand, but about halfway through it all just sort of…became a bunch of gibberish. Looking it over again, he didn’t want to have talk to him about it. Jerry had been acting strange all day, and he’d seemed a bit meaner than usual lately, and Jerry already hated Mark—he’d rather hire someone younger to replace him for half the wage, but Mark was too good and Jerry knew it. Any sign of weakness could become an excuse.

Still, he did need to know what in the hell Jerry was talking about. He got up, and brought up the email on his phone as he walked down to Jerry’s office, knocked on the door and stepped in before he could hear Jerry warn him not to. He gaped at the sight of his boss, naked aside from a pair of filthy looking, oversized underwear, tattoos coating his body that Mark had never seen, and was he jacking off?

“Get out! Get out, you fucker!”

Mark got out. He got out and he left work and he headed home before the shit could hit the fan, but something wasn’t right, a smell he couldn’t get out of his head, a buzzing at the base of his skull. He arrived home and immediately lit up a cigar—it was an old habit, but one that kept his nerves under control all the same—but this wasn’t the usual brand he smoked, was it? It was sharper and foul and…and…

Mark groaned and started rubbing his cock in his pants, his suit was changing, morphing around him into a pair of overalls that started out clean, but quickly became grubbier and full of holes, his beard whitening and growing long and tangled, his head balding aside from a thin horseshoe, but all he could think of was Jerry, that brief glance he’d gotten at the office, he couldn’t even remember what his face had looked like, but he wanted that filthy cock. He fumbled with his phone, snapped a pic of his dirty old cock and sent it to his boss.

horny wanna cum over

It was a few anxious minutes that he waited, until he got a reply.

still at office, cum fuck me daddy

Mark grabbed a couple extra cigars and climbed in his old, beatup truck. He had a boy to pick up, and they were going to have a wild night together.

April 9, 2014

Anonymous asked: Just wanted to say, you've awakened fetishes in me I never even knew I had - big fan, thanks for all the writing!

You’re very welcome, just don’t do anything too crazy lol.

April 9, 2014

Anonymous asked: What do you think ofthe suggestion of a third "accidental/intentional" axis to your quadrants in a few comments on NCMC? It seems to add some robustness to your categories.

Well, like I noted in the comment I left, once we start getting into how the changes occur, we’re no longer talking broadly about the stories themselves, but about specific devices within stories, in particular MacGuffins, which I’ve covered on tumblr before. That said, you could certainly add a third axis to my schema—but here’s why I’m reluctant to do so.

First, I don’t think adding more axes actually helps clarify the system—if anything, it starts obfuscating and complicating the very thing I’m trying to explain and systematize. I’d rather have a simpler system that can’t account for everything all at once than a complex system which might account for more phenomena but is so confusing we can no longer learn anything from it.

Second, adding a distinction between intentional and accidental changes in this discussion doesn’t do much to develop the other dimensions at all. The reason I chose to contrast the two axes I did (constructive—destructive and self—other) is because the relationship those two pose say something meaningful about each other and the genre. While adding another axis would account for extra kinds of stories, it doesn’t really draw out the argument I was trying to make, regarding why some people like particular forms of stories than others. The accidental—intentional distinction speaks more to how writer’s form plot, and how they plan character change, than it does about particular reader preferences. Of course, this isn’t true for everyone—the original commenter in particular who took issue with the system I was laying out for example—but overall I’d stand by the claim. 

None of this is to say that the incidental—accidental distinction can’t be important—it definitely is. However, that discussion wasn’t the right place for it in my mind, and leaving a simpler system and a more cohesive argument is more important to me than constructing the most accurate system I possibly can. Hope that makes a lick of sense somewhere in there.

April 9, 2014
Sketch #8 - New Boots

“They’re very comfortable, sir, I promise you’ll love wearing these boots once you get used to them.”

“I’d really prefer something cheaper,” Bill said, but the young man—Trey, according to his name tag—kept turning the boot over in his hand so Bill could see it from every angle. They were great looking boots, and he loved the deep black of the leather, but they’d be dusty after one day on the construction site—not to mention they’d be worn thin by the end of the summer. “They’re too nice to wear for work anyway.”

“They’re tougher than they look, sir. How long do your usual boots last? A season? These will last you two or three years, especially if you maintain them well.”

“I’m not very good at maintenence.”

“Well, I’d be happy to give you some pointers, sir—I mean, if you’d like.”

Trey smiled up at him—he was a few inches shorter than Bill, and a bit rounded. Not exactly fat—but soft in all the right places—and from the way he was eyeing Bill, his eyes flicking down to his crotch and back up again, he had a thing for him as well.

The silence lasted a bit longer than either of them had intended, but Bill relented. “Alright, I guess I can try them on at least.”

“What size?”

“Thirteen and a half—wide.”

Trey hurried off to find the size, and Bill sat down on the bench, slipping his tennis shoes off. He glanced around the store again, but he was still the only customer—and there was only one other employee, a young woman bored at the register, immersed in her phone. Trey came back with a box. “I only have a fourteen wide, but this boot tends to run a bit small—do you still want to try it on sir?”

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose.” He didn’t really have any intention of actually buying the boots of course, but Trey seemed absolutely pleased as he got down on one knee and slid one boot onto Bill’s foot.

“How does that feel?”

It did feel amazing.

“Pretty good,” Bill said.

“Do you want to try the other one on?”

Bill gave a shrug of no commitment, and Trey slid the second boot on.

“Nice, right? And they fit really well. Go on, walk around and them, and tell me they aren’t the nicest boots you’ve tried on.”

Bill gave a sigh—he really didn’t want to spend the money, but he stood up and gave a walk for Trey, and then sat back down. “They’re really nice boots—but they’re still too nice for me to wear to work.”

“If you take care of them, they’ll last just fine.”

“I’m not really—”

“Or—” Trey said, and then looked a bit embarrassed. Bill thought it was because he’d interrupted him, but no, he was looking past Bill, towards his coworker, still at the register, her back to them both. “Or I could help you, sir, if you’d like…”

Bill cocked an eyebrow, and then saw the erection in Trey’s jeans that he should have noticed, but before he could say anything, Trey was on hands and knees, rubbing his face against the side of the boot, letting out a soft moan. Bill froze on the bench, heart pounding, watching Trey rub his cheek against the leather, and then lick it, leaving a shine trail of spit behind him. “Stop—stop! What are you doing?” Bill managed to hiss down, and Trey immediately sat back on his heels.

“You’re hard, sir.”

“Yeah, but—”

“We can go into the backroom, right there—”

“I’m not, I mean—”

Trey was up then, and he said, “Yeah, those are a bit big, let me check again for that thirteen and a half,” and he slipped back behind the curtain, leaving Bill there, still frozen in place, cock hard in the front of his jeans. He was actually thinking about it. How could he be thinking about this?

He stood up. The boots still felt odd on his feet, the heels pushing him up, his posture a bit higher than usual. He caught himself in a mirror on the wall, and wondered what Trey saw in him. All he saw was a rough laborer, a bit of a gut but bulging with working muscle, beard and hair a few months untrimmed—there was no one in his life to trim it for, really. The boots looked good on him—or did he look good in the boots? He walked as quietly as he could, but the boots forced out a thud on the hardwood anyway, as he ducked into the back, and he found Trey there in the bleak light of the halogens, head bowed. With the boots, Bill was slightly taller than him, or was Trey just hunching over slightly?

They just stood there for a few moments, Bill unsure of what was happening, slowly realizing that Trey was expecting something from him, some action? Stance? Command? His voice was caught in his throat, but his cock was hard, and he fumbled with the fly, pulling it out so Trey could see it, but still he did nothing, just stood there. He was looking at it though, he wanted it, and Bill wanted him to do it—

“You have a nice cock, sir.”

Bill didn’t know how to take that, so he stayed silent.

“What would you like me to do sir?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Bill fidgeted, he felt himself go a bit soft from the cold shop air, from uncertainty, from disbelief. “You…you know…”

Trey said nothing—he wanted Bill to say it, no, he wanted to hear Bill say it.

“”Suck—suck it…”

Trey fell to his knees, and before Bill could do anything he had his mouth wrapped around his cock, and Bill grabbed the back of his head, ran his fingers through Trey’s hair, thrusting, feeling more at ease but something still felt off, like Trey was still waiting for a command, and Bill found himself working a bit harder than he usually would have, leading the way, thrusting a bit more than Trey was sucking, but it worked out in time, and Trey swallowed his cum down as he shuddered, trying to stay quiet.

March 31, 2014
New Metawriting Piece over at the NCMC

Someone asked me to put up my metawriting article over in the NCMC’s new “Theory” section, but as I was reading through them, I realized that a lot of them were kind of shitty. So, I’m going to rewrite them, and the first one is up there now, here. You can’t find it from the main page yet, so follow the link. It covers the topics of my first three entries in more detail. Have a look if you’re interested. I won’t post it here, mostly because it’s really long and I’d have to reformat it all over again.

4:08pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zv8K1v1Blsfwq
  
Filed under: metawriting 
March 28, 2014

Anonymous asked: Tell all the trolls to fuck off. They nag more than if you were married to them.

Please, that’s insulting to married couples. My husband and I never troll each other, because one of us would be strangled by the other within a week. 

And I would definitely be the one choked out on the floor.

March 28, 2014

Anonymous asked: Hey Anonymous, don't bother trying to reason with Wesley ... Have you heard the phrase "never argue with a man who buys ink by the barrel"? It's Wesley's blog and he's a prolific writer - you won't win!

It also doesn’t help to pick fights with someone who makes being a snarky asshole part of their online persona, but they seem pretty incapable of taking jokes, especially at their expense, so I don’t think they’ll catch on anytime soon.

March 28, 2014

Anonymous asked: Oooh, are we feeding the trolls? Darn, and I forgot all of my strongly opinionated responses at home... :/ Sorry comment trolls, I have nothing for you guys. Maybe next year.

Don’t worry, I’m sure there will still be other trolls to feed then too.

March 28, 2014

Anonymous asked: Not that guy but it really makes me feel sort of sorry for the things you must have experienced in your life to lash out with such hostility against very tame comments made obviously in good faith, of course to you, your responses might seem perfectly fine but that's even more telling on what you must be used to. While I'm not a big fan of your recent works, I still support you and sincerely hope you will end up in a better place someday.

You do that, and I’ll pity you for possessing such a grand sense of false entitlement that you feel like you can judge a single person’s entire upbringing based on their responses to anonymous trolls made behind a pen name disconnected from their actual identity on the internetz.

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