Models: Dylan Hayes & Max Konnor
‘So, like, are you coming or not? I’m dying of old age here.’
David was leaning against the doorframe with lips pursed and eyebrow raised sarcastically. He had been watching Maya perform a solo fashion show in front of the full-length mirror for the last twenty minutes, yet she was still no closer to picking out her swimwear. Even as he teased her she tossed another set onto the discarded heap of bikinis and swimsuits slowly building at her feet.
‘Seriously, how much swimwear did you even bring?’ he asked as she modelled yet another look. ‘I’ve got one pair of trunks for the whole week, and you’re looking at them,’ he added, indicating his jellyfish-patterned swim shorts.
‘Stop whining,’ Maya said with a dismissive wave. ‘We’ll see who gets the last laugh when we get down there and all the guys are looking at me instead of you.’
David scoffed. ‘I think you mean if we get down there. I hate to break it to you hun, but nobody’s going to be looking at you if you never even make it to the pool.’
Maya tried and failed to keep the amusement from her expression as she rolled her eyes. ‘Sheesh, what’s got you so antsy?’
‘What do you think? There could be handsome hunks getting out of the pool all wet and sexy right now, and I’m here waiting for my narcissist of a bestie to decide which bikini makes her tits look best!’
‘Alright, alright,’ Maya laughed. ‘If you’re that desperate to start ogling folks then go ahead without me. I won’t be long – and I’ll probably be finished quicker without the peanut gallery moaning at me every two seconds anyway.’
His face lighting up, David immediately sprang for the door. ‘You don’t have to tell me twice.’
Maya’s laughter followed him down the hall, along with a teasing remark advising him to make the most of the attention before she arrived to steal his thunder.
In truth neither of them were actually expecting much company by the pool. The hikers wouldn’t be back for another couple of hours at least, while the rest of the group would probably be chilling in their rooms. Still, it was somewhat surprising to find the northern pool completely deserted. David was sure Jessie and Luke had mentioned their plan to chill here after their morning yoga session – not to mention that the promise of seeing Jessie in swimwear usually drew in some of the shallower guys.
Nevertheless, David was alone as he spread his towel on one of the cushioned sunbeds, kicked off his sandals and shed his t-shirt. Rustling in the tote bag he’d bought along he produced a bottle of suntan lotion and set to work applying it.
As it often did when he was alone, David’s mind drifted onto the important matter of where he might find his next hookup. No doubt if he could snatch some time alone with Niaz they could make Fantasy Manor another notch in their shared bedpost – although, given that they had enjoyed a friends-with-benefits arrangement for the past few years, they had long since lost track of exactly how many notches they had racked up together. Failing that, David had a suspicion that Andre might be open to a little experimentation provided he’d sampled enough liquid courage.
But as was inevitable for such a freely lustful spirit, David was soon ranking every male member of the group in order of fuckability.
He was still working on his self-termed ‘Lust List’ when he finished applying the lotion and made for the pool. As far as he was concerned Maya had kept him waiting for a dip in the pool far too long already, and he wasn’t willing to idle around until she arrived before taking the plunge.
So, his thoughts dominated by the question of who was cute enough to take third place between Ace and Luke, David descended the pool’s broad grey steps and sank down into the warm waters.
David barely sensed the subtle tingling sensation that embraced his feet as he entered. In fact, distracted as he was, he didn’t even think to look down when it rose up his calves and thighs as he strode further into the pool. Then again, even if he had, the distortions generated by the rippling water would have made it easy to dismiss the transformation of his lower limbs as a simple illusion.
But the changes affecting his legs were no illusion. In fact, the legs holding up him up were no longer his at all.
David’s friends often joked that he was so skinny that if viewed from certain angles he became invisible; no matter how hard he tried he was never able to maintain any muscle mass, and though he envied some of his more well-built friends David had long since given up hoping he might share such a body.
But as the waterline rose up his legs it was followed by a tide of new strength. Formerly diminutive feet grew by several sizes as the tendons of his ankles thickened; calves once thin as a sparrow’s swelled with muscles that wound beneath tanned skin; thighs previously more bone than flesh more than doubled in girth, the muscle within subtle yet firm as they carried him deeper into the pool’s magical waters.
It was only when the water was lapping at his crotch that the transformation became undeniable. Because while above the waterline David wore his garish jellyfish trunks, the moment they entered the pool they simply stopped as if the liquid were some kind of selective acid solely eating away the material of his swimwear. By the time it was at his waist his shorts were gone altogether, their absence showing off a cock both thicker and longer than before, swollen balls and a crown of cropped pubes.
But David didn’t even notice he was skinny-dipping. Instead his eyes were closed and his head tilted back, bathing in the heat of the sun as much as the pleasure of his ascending transformation.
Soon the water was around his chest. Having granted him sleek abs that tapered in a soft V down to his groin, the pool now provided the pecs to match. His once waifish arms were wreathed in fresh sinews shot through with prominent veins snaking from knuckle to collarbone, and once in up to his neck David’s shoulders had bulked up in a similar manner. Despite the striking contrast to his former figure, nothing about David’s new body was hyperbolic in its masculinity. More athletic than ripped, he had no bulging biceps nor monolithic thighs. Instead there was a subtlety to his musculature – the lithe, lean figure of a man who preferred to get his exercise writhing under the bedsheets than hefting weights in the gym.
Though his head was so far unchanged, the pool’s influence was already encroaching on his mind. Compelled by the urge to fully submerge himself, to surrender to the strange pleasure of the water, David felt his thoughts being steadily washed away with a sense of detached calm. The erosion of his consciousness seemed inevitable, like a sandcastle succumbing to the incoming tide, and rather than panic or resist David instead chose to accept the sensual magic humming through his veins.
In the heartbeat before he sank beneath the waves he was struck by a flash of clarity: visions of everything he would do in his new body rushed through his mind like a reward for accepting the change. A promise from the manor that he was doing the right thing.
Then he was underwater and the sordid pool engulfed him completely.
For several seconds the pool seemed deserted, the quiet of mid-afternoon only broken by the lapping waves and the twitter of songbirds in the softly rustling foliage. Then an entirely new man rose up the stairs David had descended barely a minute before.
Dylan’s hair was short and dark, shaved close to the scalp on the sides. His lips were full, his jawline simultaneously firm yet soft, and his eyes – the same colour as the waves he now rose from – rippled with the sultry energy of the pool that had moulded him into this new form.
Emerging naked, Dylan savoured the warm kiss of the sun on his bare skin. With water coursing down the lines of his impressive physique, he strode across to his sunbed without any concerns about being sighted in the nude.
Just as he reclined upon the cushions a gruff, orgasmic cry cut through the lazy afternoon air. Deep and strident, it was undeniably the groan of a man in intense pleasure, and it immediately set Dylan’s mind racing with deviant ideas of what could have prompted such ecstasy – and how much he’d love to let the man take that pleasure out on his own eager holes.
Allowing himself to revel in the daydreams, Dylan lay back with an impish smile…
Maya waited until she could no longer hear David’s footsteps before slumping to her knees amongst the heap of swimwear. Burying her face in her hands she forced down her emotion with deep, shuddering breaths.
What am I doing? The answer to that wasn’t hard: she was hunting for the bikini that would make her look hot enough that everybody took notice.
Why do I want to look that way? Again, easy: she wanted their attention. Craved it even.
Why do I need their admiration? Alas, here the answers became more difficult to explain. And even more difficult to face.
Maya knew her confidence was the envy of more than a few of her friends. Hot, aware of her own appeal, and with more than a little exhibitionism about her, she had never put much effort into concealing her naughtiness, and as such it was generally taken for granted that wherever the group went Maya’s outfits would draw the most attention.
Despite her penchant for risqué costumes and shameless flirting, nobody considered Maya a slut. To most people that title came with far too many negative connotations for even the bitchiest of the group to brand Maya with it – although if she was honest, Maya didn’t consider the term nearly as insulting as most other people. Instead, her sexually liberated personality was a point of endearment, and her willingness to simply be herself – desires and all – had made her many friends among the group, all of whom appreciated that when it came to Maya what you saw was what you got.
And yet recently Maya had found herself questioning who she was at a fundamental level.
Not so long ago, Maya had been convinced she had found the one in Jessie. After crushing on her friend for over a year she had resigned herself to admiring from afar until one afterparty when they’d share a drunken kiss. Though instigated by the alcohol the passion behind it had been real and had sparked a relationship hotter than anything Maya could have imagined. What was more, quite apart from the incredible sex, Maya had found herself falling deeper in love with Jessie with each passing day.
In the end, however, the intensity of their shared flame had come at the cost of it burning out fast.
Because at their core Maya and Jessie were fundamentally different people. While Maya was all about lust and pleasure and fucking until she couldn’t think straight, Jessie favoured the kind of soft sensuality that ended with cosy cuddles rather than brainless drooling. It had broken Maya’s heart to admit those were things she could not provide, and they had mutually agreed that they should go their separate ways shortly after.
Only David truly knew how deeply their breakup had affected Maya. All her previous relationships had been arrangements of lust, so to have that same lust – the facet of her personality that had defined her for so long – be the gun that shot down her fledgling love had left her questioning everything.
Deep down, she knew why she craved the admiration of her friends. Since the breakup she had craved companionship every day, yet at the same time she was left scared that she would never find somebody capable of handling her. What if her lust was incompatible with a loving relationship? What if any hope at true affection was doomed to be snuffed out by the intensity of her raging libido? What if her horniness was just too much for a romantic partner to cope with? In the absence of genuine infatuation she was attempting to fill the void with old habits: risqué looks intended to attract hungry stares.
But it was all bittersweet. And as she slumped amongst the pile of swimwear she used to love turning heads in, Maya just felt empty.
Unable to bring herself to join David at the pool, Maya scooped up the heap of clothes and shuffled sullenly into the walk-in wardrobe. Just the sight of them made her feel dirty inside, so she hooked her foot into the handle of a drawer and yanked it open with the intention of stashing them all out of view.
Annoyingly, the drawer was already in use.
Unlike some of the others, David and Maya’s wardrobe was relatively empty. Yet it was not completely bare and the drawer was packed – ironically – with swimwear. Boardshorts, bikinis and swimsuits were all bundled inside, with a set of bright yellow briefs catching her eye on the top.
Dumping her cargo, she picked out the briefs without really knowing why. The material felt new, seemingly never worn.
At first the urge to try them on was just a niggling whisper in the back of her mind and easily dismissed as an intrusive thought. Yet the longer she held them, the more the strange idea grew, spreading ever further until all rational thought fell under its shadow. It was as if the briefs were calling to her, begging to be worn, their sordid influence etching two words into her thoughts in an endless refrain: wear me, wear me, wear me.
In the face of such seductive power all Maya could do was obey.
Without fully realising what she was doing, Maya slipped free of her bikini and allowed it to fall to the floor with the rest. Naked for barely a second, she immediately pulled on the yellow trunks as a replacement and was rewarded by an erotic tingle that flared out across her flesh wherever the briefs touched her, like the hands of a lover hungrily moving over her curves.
Then, as if they had been waiting so long for this moment that they could not delay for another second, the corruptive trunks savagely remade her.
Maya was immediately on fire. Although it felt as if lava had been injected into her blood and every organ replaced by hot coals, where there should have been excruciating pain instead she was filled by searing pleasure that was no less intense. The scorching ecstasy was like a flare in her mind that burned out everything that composed her consciousness – every hope, every dream, every memory lost to the glare – and though she threw back her head to scream that was likewise snuffed out, the sound seemingly lodged in her throat as the magic roared through her.
For one long second the internal inferno surged until Maya was sure she would combust. Then, like fresh magma bursting through a shell of cooled rock, all the transformative magic inside overwhelmed her in one fell swoop.
Maya’s transformation happened everywhere at once.
At the same time her bare breasts hardened into a pair of bulbous pecs, her soft thighs inflated with thick, bulging muscle; her shoulders, biceps and forearms all ballooned with masculine strength; abs like granite carved themselves into her torso even as her entire frame rose by several inches, her increased height a result of legs that were suddenly thick and firm as concrete pillars. In the blink of an eye Maya’s supple curves had been consumed by the hulking form of a huge black bull, her dark flesh pulled taut over muscles thick with prominent veins and decorated with a wealth of impressive tattoos.
And as her body changed, so too did her head, her dainty features almost instantaneously switched out for a rigid jawline dusted with stubble, a broad nose, intense eyes and – after her hair retreated back into her scalp too fast to track with the naked eye – a shiny bald head. Small black stretchers filled her earlobes and her brows were knitted together in a grimace of untold pleasure as her scream finally tore free as a gutturally orgasmic howl, so loud it rattled the glass in the open windows as it roared out into the quiet afternoon.
Her howl reached its peak as the crotch of the trunks abruptly bulged outwards. The already tight material was pushed to its limits as something monstrous grew inside, Maya’s eyes rolling as the blinding lust burned somehow even brighter in her mind.
Her entire transformation was over in barely a second. It was almost as if Maya had simply been plucked from existence and switched out for the massive hunk now standing alone in the wardrobe. The devastating magic was gone just as quickly as it had arrived, and it was immediately apparent that Maya’s mind had been erased just as thoroughly as her body.
Oblivious to the heap of bikinis at his feet, Max turned and strode out into the bedroom. Already he had forgotten his transformation and the accompanying orgasmia, that space in his head filled with fresh memories instead.
Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he allowed himself a moment to admire his god-like body with a somewhat narcissistic smile. After that he marched from the room and made for the pool…
Dylan had visited Fantasy Manor several times before. In that time he had met and fucked more than his fair share of fellow guests.
Yet every single one of those past lovers paled in comparison to the wet dream of a man that now came striding into view.
The big hunk looked like a Greek statue made mortal. Every inch of his body was thick with sinuous strength to the point that as he walked his dark flesh rippled in places Dylan hadn’t even realised it was possible to have muscle. In fact, the man’s hypnotic body was almost as enticing as the hefty bulge stretching his yellow trunks.
Almost.
Rolling onto his side to admire the new arrival better, Dylan didn’t bother trying to conceal his dignity. Neither did he deign to suppress the lust in his eyes, instead ogling the man greedily with a deviant smirk twisting his features. As the man drew closer Dylan’s mouth began to water.
The man came to a stop at the foot of Dylan’s bed. ‘Do you stare at all the guys like that?’ he asked, his voice as deep as it was sultry.
Dylan’s naughty smirk didn’t falter. ‘Like what? Like I’m imagining what it would be like having their cock burrowing down my throat?’
Shifting his weight onto one leg, the man hooked a thumb in the waistband of his speedos, pulling them down just enough to reveal a glimpse of dark pubic hair shaved close to the skin. The move filled Dylan’s head with ideas of what else lay within – and no doubt that had been the man’s plan, for the horny twitch of Dylan’s cock as his imagination ran wild prompted a flash of satisfaction in the man’s eyes.
‘Not quite,’ the man said. ‘More like you’re inwardly begging to made into a big black bull’s bitch.’
Dylan’s smirk spread into a fiendish grin. As a general rule, Dylan rarely met anybody as forward as himself, especially given that he was perfectly willing to hit on any guy who caught his eye even if they had only met mere seconds before. It was a trait that had earned him many long nights in the arms of some very hot guys, but typically he found he had to build up to things slowly before letting his inner nymphomaniac out to play.
This stranger, on the other hand, had no such reservations. Staring into the man’s lustful eyes, Dylan recognised the erotic hunger swirling within: it was the same amoral desire pumping through Dylan’s own veins, and he could tell that this was a man for whom inhibitions were simply irrelevant. A man for whom depravity was a way of life.
It didn’t take much imagination to deduce how this would end – in truth, Dylan suspected that even if he pretended not to be interested he would still end up as the man’s moaning cumdump.
‘Guilty as charged,’ he admitted. ‘Which is why I’ve been keeping this bed nice and warm, in the hope that my Prince Charming will arrive to put me in my place. I’m Dylan, by the way, just in case you planned on moaning my name later,’ he added with a wink.
His jaw set firmly, the man fixed Dylan with a gaze that cut down to the most sordid depths of his soul. ‘I think we both know it’s you who’ll be screaming mine, so I’m Max. And I’m no Prince Charming. But since you’ve saved me a seat like a good little servant, I suggest you move your ass before I move it for you.’
Shifting aside, Dylan bit back a delirious laugh as Max marched across and reclined on the sunbed. By now Dylan’s cock was flush to his stomach, the anticipation of what was to come rendering him rock hard and twitching. But even his impressive length was nothing compared to the goliath beginning to tent Max’s trunks.
After making himself comfortable, Max turned to Dylan with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. ‘Let me guess, boy – you’re here for a little rest and relaxation, right?’
‘Something like that,’ Dylan replied, holding Max’s intensely lustful gaze.
‘Well, don’t let me stop you.’ Though his meaning was obvious, Max spread his legs to emphasise his point. ‘After all, we both know what greedy sluts like you do to relax, don’t we?’
It was a good thing the question was rhetorical, because Dylan never managed to vocalise an answer.
Then again, as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.
Max could not hold back his groan as Dylan’s lips wrapped around his throbbing cock. The hot slut’s tongue was agile and experienced, swirling around his shaft eagerly, while the embrace of his throat as he assumed a giddy rhythm was hot and wet and served as rocket fuel for Max’s arousal.
‘Fuck yeah, boy, swallow it deep,’ he growled. Experience had taught Max that few men were able to swallow his full length, yet Dylan’s lips glided down to the base with ease and he didn’t so much as gag even as his neck bulged. Max bit his lip as he imagined what else this little cock-addict was capable of.
Content to let Dylan sate his hunger, Max slotted both hands behind his head and savoured the pleasure of the bottom’s oral worship.
As the CEO of a successful software business, Max was used to the finer things in life. Nevertheless, beneath the businessman there was an insatiable deviant. For Max, the need to fuck was as fundamental as the air he breathed or the blood that pumped through his lustful heart, though unfortunately for him his life in the public eye often made it difficult for him to act on the carnal urges that never left his thoughts.
Of course, that wasn’t to say he didn’t have ways of satisfying the animal within. For one thing, if you knew which clubs to go to you found that most guys had little interest in the identity of masked strangers so long as they were hot, hung, and willing to spend a few horny hours in a dark room. For another, when money was no object it was amazing the kind of silence you could buy, a fact embodied by the small yet discrete group of gay escorts Max could contact on those occasions when he craved a more personal encounter.
Even so, there was nothing that hit quite like this. Driven by nothing more than his own greed, Dylan was just a natural born slut compelled by the same shameless, uninhibited desire that burned in Max’s core. That was the kind of connection no amount of money could buy – and Max had no intention of wasting this serendipitous encounter.
Dylan’s noisy wet slurping echoed around the pool and Max could practically feel the horniness radiating off him. Though his addiction to Max’s meat was obvious in the increasing fervour of his pace, Max suspected it wouldn’t be long before Dylan would need to take things to the next step.
And while he couldn’t deny the idea of watching Dylan ride him needily was a tempting prospect, Max had his own cravings to satisfy.
‘Such a fucking greedy bitch,’ he said, his lips twisting into a devious smirk. In a blur of motion he suddenly forced Dylan back, his massive hand closing around his lover’s throat almost before his cock slid free of the bottom’s throat. Max growled as he ran his thumb over Dylan’s flushed lips. ‘But I think it’s about time we found out if you’re really up to the task of being my plaything. And if you’re not… well, let’s just say you won’t be eyeing up any other guys for a while after your brains have melted.’
Max surprised even himself with how forcefully he drove Dylan onto his back. Shifting a pillow beneath the man’s hips, he spotted a small bottle of lube nestling in Dylan’s tote bag.
‘Always prepared,’ he said as he picked it out and popped the cap. ‘You’re my kind of whore.’ Lathering his rigid shaft with a copious quantity, Max then applied another heaping dose to the ass he was about to invade.
Beneath him, Dylan’s face was alight with gleeful anticipation, his nymphomaniacal streak on full display. Already his hand was around his own cock, jerking it feverishly as he waited for the inevitable.
He wasn’t waiting long.
The tight grip of Dylan’s ass around his cock made Max’s eyes roll as he sank inside. With the bottom’s feet clutched in his goliath hands he had total control over the spread of his legs, an advantage he made full use of by extending them wide while feeding in his shaft. Every inch deeper bought with it an exponential surge in his arousal – and from the low moan that frothed on Dylan’s lips, Max guessed he was in a similar state of pleasure.
After what felt like forever, the soft skin of Max’s balls kissed Dylan’s cheeks. It took a moment for him to gather his senses, though when he did he looked down to find Dylan slumped back on the bed, a brainless smile on his lips.
Savouring the view, he held himself there for a few more seconds before pulling back slowly until only half of his cock was sheathed within his new lover. The motion seemed to return some of Dylan’s senses, as if his intelligence was directly tied to how full his holes were.
‘I knew it was a good idea coming down to the pool today,’ Dylan smirked.
‘That makes two of us,’ Max agreed. Though he couldn’t explain why, he had woken that morning even hornier than usual, and had spent most of his day jerking off in bed. Eventually he had decided to head to the pool in the hopes of distracting himself. Admittedly Dylan was not the distraction he’d had in mind, but the man’s eager ass was exactly the outlet Max needed right now. And though he’d started the day alone, Max had no doubt that he would have company in bed tonight.
‘Go on,’ Dylan breathed. ‘Don’t hold back. I can see it in your eyes: all you want to do is fuck me senseless. So do it. As deep and hard and dirty as you like. Don’t just make me moan. Make me yours.’
Max didn’t need asking twice.
Allowing the rage of lust roiling deep in his soul to take over was like coming up for air after being underwater for far too long. With his iron grip on Dylan’s ankles there was nothing to stop Max from railing the boy’s tight hole. Pumping with ever increasing urgency, Max simply let the animal within come roaring to the surface and soon enough they were both gasping and groaning in a state of vacant orgasmia.
Max lost track of all the filthy things they did over the next two hours. All he knew was that the pool was far from quiet; their united cries of ecstasy hung thick in the afternoon air, drawing down an atmosphere of dense lust that clung to their bare skin and seeped into their pores.
Later that night snippets of their poolside depravity would come to Max in flashes of clarity. Hammering into Dylan’s vice-tight hole in that initial position until they were both dripping with sweat and hard as steel; time spent on his knees with his face buried in Dylan’s ass, rimming him voraciously; fucking hard and deep in an endless cycle of positions, from doggystyle to cowboy to simply pinning Dylan beneath his hulking frame and driving into him from above to the loud crack of their colliding flesh. At one point Dylan even returned to blowing him, albeit this time the bottom was spread on his back with his head jutting out over the edge of the sunbed as Max fucked his face so deep his neck bulged down to the collarbone – a position which, inevitably, end in a frantic and sloppy sixty-nine.
Neither man had any concern about being discovered – if anything, the prospect was somewhat exciting to them both. As such, it was almost disappointing that their noisiness did not draw the attention of any other guests. Then again, the chance to indulge their most carnal fantasies together more than made up for that.
By the time afternoon was flirting with evening, Max was in a clear enough frame of mind to realise that this week was going to be much more fulfilling than he had anticipated.
Max was not naïve enough to believe this was love; in his experience the fires of his lust always outshone such things anyway. Yet when the hot, needy bottom twisted back to face him as they fucked doggystyle once again, Max saw himself reflected in Dylan’s eyes. And in that moment he understood what their connection truly was: gluttony. They were gluttons for lust, both of them, and this secluded manor was now the stage for their performance of greed.
‘You know, I’ve fucked a lot of holes in my time, boy, but yours just might be the best.’ As if to emphasise his point, Max slowed his pace and took the opportunity to thrust slow and deep, pressing hard against Dylan’s prostate and prompting his eyes to roll.
‘Glad I could show you a good time,’ Dylan panted. ‘You’ve certainly done the same for me.’
‘Of course I have. And I’m not finished yet. I hope you didn’t think you were getting off with just a poolside fuck. Oh no, I have plenty more ideas of how I can use your holes. After all, I’m here all week. What about you?’
His face a mask of dumb pleasure, Dylan giggled in a way that suggested his mind was clinging on by a thread. ‘I can’t even remember anymore. I just know that as long as you’re fucking me this good I’m not going anywhere.’
Max’s smirk was a wicked thing. ‘That’s right, you’re not. You’re my cumdump now, and you do as a say.’
‘And how do you want to use your cumdump next?’ Despite the fragility of his rational thought there was still a note of mischief in Dylan’s tone. ‘Because if you’re interested, I have a few ideas.’
Raising an eyebrow, Max slowed his pace still further. At this point his hips were rolling back and forth so gradually Dylan could feel every contour of his shaft gliding between the muscles of his ass. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, I did notice a private sauna in the manor when I arrived. I was hoping to use it to relax at some point…’ He trailed off. Smiled. ‘And we both know what greedy sluts like me do to relax, don’t we?’
Thanks for reading!
I’ll be the first to admit that this one gets a bit deeper into the characterisation than it probably needs to. I totally get that most (if not all) of my readers are here for the smut, not multiple paragraphs exploring the psyche of a heartbroken pre-transformation character. When it comes down to it though, these are the stories I let myself have fun with and if that means going hard on the emotions of the initial characters then I’m happy to let that be the case.
Given that I was writing non-erotic stories long before I ever turned my hand to TG content, it’s basically automatic for me to ask myself who a character is inside: what are their motivations? Their hopes? Their dreams? Their fears? What makes them tick? Of course, in most content I write there isn’t much time to get into the nitty gritty of that stuff, but my longform work allows me to do that and at this point I’m happy to indulge myself. And if I’m honest, I think those are the stories I come out most satisfied with at the end; the deeper I can dive into a character’s pre-transformation psyche, the more I can weave that through the actions of the people they become after transformation, which is a real buzz for me as it really helps tie things together. It also allows me to implement thematic elements throughout the piece, which isn’t always possible without that existing background information.
What I’m basically saying is yes, this is almost certainly longer than it needs to be – but I don’t care, because I love it!
Image gallery: https://www.boyspornpics.com/gallery/img1711036-dylan-lays-back-to-feel-t.html
