Nandita To Nandini
- 4 years ago
- 282
- 0
An Fictionalized Treatise On TG Fiction And Similar Fare: Chapter 1 free porn video
An Fictionalized Treatise on TG Fiction and Similar Fare: Chapter 1
by
escape421521
Life, is, was and will always be, a confusing affair. And humanity, for
all its meddling, only serves to tangle the web that is our complicated
lives. After walking through my artsy phase for a while where I
envisioned myself the next Scorsese(cum-Oscar(don't get any funny ideas,
it's only Latin)), Roman Polanski, Quentin Tarentino. You get the idea.
Walking out of this phase, with a much more realistic outlook on life I
decided to write a Tg story. Yes, I do realize the irony. But anyhow, I'm
looking through FM and segments of the BEA, when I started to realize how
shit-poor some of the writing is. (Please don't kill me.) Little side
note about FM. Somehow, the lower rated a story is the better the
writing. I call it the IPP Inversely proportional porno. Keep in mind,
every rule has an exception.
As with any medium of fiction there are two main issues that define tg
stories. These are content and language. Language is much easier to
define so I'll begin there. First, and foremost, use a spell checker,
maybe even self edit if you can't bring yourself to show a friend. I
cannot stress this enough. As strange as this may sound, when you write
something and then post it on a site that gets upward of 10,000
views(just spitballing), you do have to plan that someone is going to end
up reading it. If only I could imagine the rapture, Dan now Dan(ielle)
gets as "her bearsts greaw and then poppped, orgasmind in the pain."
Aside from writing correctly, there is also a bit to be said about
writing well. Now the biggest problem with trying to do this this is that
9 out of every 10 TF writers are writing smut, or something so close to
it, it doesn't really matter. I quote an article I had the chance to read
an article about writing a good sex scene. The general consensus was, as
odd as it may sound, be as euphemistic as possible. Chances are if
someone is reading a sex scene they have some general idea of what is
happening. I may not adhere strictly to this but it seems pretty
reasonable. I personally provide no solution to this problem but only
note its existence.
This problem is only magnified in the area of content. Especially when
you're writing porno, however well intentioned you are starting out, you
come to realize that despite all your, hard work, you are going to have
to come up with some contrived way to make two people happily-or
unhappily in some cases- fuck each each others brains out. In the case of
FM and the BEA, this is synonymous for, cross dress, turn into a girl,
turn into a guy, dress up as a girl, inflate, inflate and pop, turn into
a girl then inflate, dress up as a girl then turn into a girl than
inflate, turn into a girl then inflate and pop, turn into a furry,? dress
up as a girl then turn into a girl than inflate then pop, turn into a
balloon, dress up then turn into a furry balloon girl(vixens and bunnies
work the best) inflate and then pop. All of which happens at the behest
of a person or people with the following: drugs, air tank, drugs and an
air tank, magical potion(also drugs), magical remote control, magical
TV(sorry), or some random magical item that "looks" like it does
something you want it to do but then doesn't and backfires bringing about
some magical change(Bill Hart I am SO SORRY.) While I have no problem
with this and it does make for some very entertaining fics, I wrote this
story(to come later) trying to attempt to bring originality back into the
life of FM and Tg fics everywhere. Hell, I may even throw in a BE scene
just for the hell of it. Did someone say age regression?
My inspiration for this story was... Well, no direct inspiration just a
lot of stoff in general. Not exactly true but anything I'll say will give
away too much of the story. Maybe I'll put it in the closing.
I will credit Glen Duncan for what is the best "waking up dead(or drunk)"
scene ever written which I paraphrase as my opening paragraph. For those
of you who have read Death of an Ordinary Man, you know what I'm talking
about.
At long last(gasps for breath) my very own TG story.
Anybody whose done a fair bit of traveling can tell you about hotel
mornings. Those first mornings in foreign hotels you opened your eyes and
knew nothing: where you were, how you'd got there, who you were, even.
You could be anyone.
Like that but without the hotel.
In John's case, he woke up with one of the nicest racks he'd never seen.
He didn't notice this immediately. His first concern was the mind-numbing
aftermath of what he could only assume was one of the best nights of his
life. John happened to be a junior in college. An out of stater, he
attended some fairly competitive college in some fairly interesting
city(insert life here). Because he was only twenty, it wasn't fairly
unreasonable to assume that he got drunk off his ass every chance he got.
That being said, he had a fairly reasonable idea of what his limits were,
and whatever he had done last night had to have been some, to use his
description "really fucked-up shit". All this speculation was mostly due
to the fact that he had no recollection as to what had happened last
night. Or, for that matter, anything proceeding it.
Now as many people can tell you one of the absolute worst things anyone
can do when they have a hangover-or any thing else like a headache-is to
listen. Seriously speaking, sound can be a person's worst enemy in a
situation like this. Every noise sounds like someone taking a sledge to
any and every exposed segment of you're brain. Oh, any you've just woken
up in the middle of brain surgery to boot. That being said, it is safe to
assume when John's roommate knocked over one of the roughly 20 half
drunken bottles to the ground, the resulting noise inflicted pain roughly
equivalent to that of having a crazed Gothic chick with 5 inch nails try
to disembowel you then pouring hot wax into every bodily orifice
including the one that she opened with her, repeated here for emphasis,
FIVE INCH NAILS!
"Oh, god, I am so sorry!"
In case I forgot to mention this earlier, when you have a headache, even
worse than noise, is trying to talk to someone. Just trying to
concentrate on what the other person is saying, combined with the
noise... Worst, thing, ever.
"Did I wake you? You feeling alright? You look like you're in immens-"
"I AM SO STUPID!" Still not helping, John unhelpfully noted. "I mean, I'm
not surprised, that must have been one hell of a time you had last
night." Looking upward he notices a pair of legs, nicely tanned, just the
right curve. He notices the spiral of a tattoo on her inner thigh now
just barely visible under her skirt. No wonder those legs looked so
familiar. It was Nikki, his girlfriend. For those of you who know nothing
about John's life, Nikki, is not only his girlfriend, but also his on,
off, on again girlfriend.
This isn't my room, John realizes. This realization is only slightly
underscored by John's realization that the two of them must of hooked
back up at some point during the past night. Must have been really drunk
to forget that, he mused.
Now responding in a drunken stupor, "So, how was your night then?"
"So, so. I mean, I really don't know. He was nice and all, but in the
end, nothing special."
Too confused and hungover to marvel at the spectacular blow to his ego,
John eagerly avoided any more conversation with Nikki by summarily
falling back asleep.
"I'll let myself out then. Key's under the mat if you forget anything."
Later...
Hangover almost gone, John picks his head up slowly. TEN THIRTY! Shit!
Campbell's gonna be pissed! It was while he was trying to climb out of
bed that John was able to confirm that he was not, in fact, in his room.
This was mostly due to the fact that he didn't own a pink comforter. The
dildo on the side table was a giveaway as well. It was also at this time
John realized that he wasn't as far out of his hangover as he had
previously thought. Stumbling to the floor he only made it about a step
when he managed to trip over yet another empty beer bottle laying on the
floor. HOLY FUCK, that hurt! He thought. Did I land on broken glass or
something? A cursory glance around didn't show enough to qualify an
answer. He did however manage to note a few important things. First was
the notable absence of his "penis" XD. And by "penis" I meant that
instead of his normal equipment he was the not-so-proud owner of his(her)
newfound pussy. The C cups on his chest didn't help things much.
A psych-major, John was able to calm himself down rather quickly, sparing
me(the author) the task of writing about half a page of exposition where
he has a quick little meltdown. I'll probably end up paying for it later
though.
Being one of the few people between the ages of 2-25 who actually have
the presence of mind to keep themselves together in times of crises-of
which waking up as the opposite gender certainly is one the more taxing
ones-John was already fast on his feet trying to think of ways to cope.
Checking the nearby computer, he confirmed his suspicions that the life
of his "female persona" closely followed his own. Even their computer
password was the same. A closer glance at some of her personal belongings
confirmed they still had, the same classes and schedule. An even closer
look confirmed that his "old" dorm and "her" new one were actually
adjacent to each other. This was a fact that John took advantage of often
sneaking downstairs past the lax guards for a "midnight snack". Their
first breakup happened right after one such occasion. After spending ten
minutes trying to break into your girlfriend's dorm, finding another guy
in there is the LAST thing you want to do.
Even more interesting, his roommate. Former roommate, he corrected, now
seemed to be his boyfriend. To make matters worse, it didn't seem like
wasn't the only one. A look at "her" buddy list confirmed a large number
of past and present "boyfriends."
Another look at the clock confirmed he didn't have too much time to
ponder his dilemma. If he wanted to figure out how this had happened to
him, he'd need to know exactly what had happened last night. And there
was no way he could do that if he got himself kicked out school. If he
wanted any chance of getting his former life back, he'd have get to his
classes first. And that meant plunging himself full force into his new,
feminine life.
To be continued...
DOT DOT DOT!!!!!
Maddy
- 03.12.2022
- 19
- 0
Quando una sera Achref venne a casa mia per fare l amore
- 3 years ago
- 50
- 0
Quando una sera Achref venne a casa mia per fare l amore 4
- 3 years ago
- 40
- 0
