Megan withdrew a slick hand from her panties, gasping for air.
Slutmaker had brought her to climax, again, with another one of his scintillating erotica stories. She let out a relaxing sigh, staring at an image of a girl on her knees, eyes filled with lust as she sucked a cock. Slutmaker was so damn good at getting her hot. It was like he was inside her brain, causally flipping through the pages of her every desire.
She closed the Tumblr page and opened up her own, shoddily written story. Letting out another sigh, this time of disappointment, she slumped in her chair, wondering why she didn’t have ability to craft stories as vividly as Slutmaker did. He had been the whole reason she started writing in the first place; she had wanted to impress him, but after her first few stories had received little to no likes or reblogs, she was now considering giving up.
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Feeling frustrated and inadequate, Megan had messaged Slutmaker for writing advice. He even had been kind enough to respond:
Thank you very much for the compliment, it’s always a pleasure to hear from adoring fans. But, to the matter at hand, you’re having trouble writing “good” erotic stories? I think the best advice I can give you is to really immerse yourself in the content. Start following more porn blogs and scroll through your Tumblr feed as much as possible. Imagine yourself as the women in the pictures and stories, it may help you generate sexier and more creative ideas.
Megan had taken Slutmaker’s advice, adding roughly twenty blogs to her feed and stealing glances at her dashboard whenever she could. It actually kind of helped too, she was feeling much more aroused all the time now and could hardly stop the flood of new sexual fantasies from popping into her head. The problem was, now that she was spending most of her free time looking at women being used like fuck objects, she was finding less time to write, and even when she did, Megan found it increasingly difficult to articulate what she wanted to say.
A few days and zero progress later, Megan messaged Slutmaker again. After thanking him for his previous advice, she explained how it was helping her generate more fantasies, but that she was still having trouble putting her thoughts down in a coherent manner. He again replied with much coveted advice:
Hmmm, that’s ok, and it’s good that you’re having more sexual visions in your head, so you should keep doing that. I…don’t want to get too personal, but are you cumming while you scroll? You should be getting off two, if not three times a day, and that’s not exaggeration. The pleasure you feel will rid you of any inhibitions that you have and make the writing process a freer experience overall. Also, and of course this is your choice, but have you considered acting out some of your fantasies in real life? I’m not saying you have to, but it might help if you had some first person experience. I think that it could be a turning point for you creatively if you really got “down and dirty” as they say. Let me know if you have any more questions, I’m always happy to help a girl in need.
Megan finished reading the response, a look of mixed shock and arousal plastered on her face. What Slutmaker was suggesting was completely out of her comfort zone. However…it had also instantly made her picture herself on all fours, begging a random stranger for his cock. She began to moisten at the thought and decided that it was proof enough that she should once again follow Slutmaker’s advice.
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The cock hung an inch from Megan’s mouth as she looked up hungrily at the man it belonged to. He’d picked her up at a bar, as she’d hoped he would, and as they made their way back to his condo, she had put her plan into motion. Now, here she was, burning with desire and filled with a need to drink this man’s cum. She could hardly wait until she got home and was able to tell Slutmaker about the entire experience…
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Hi Slutmaker! Your last advice was like, really really really good! It’s been only a week and I’ve already fucked three different guys! And I got to act out some of my FAVORITE fantasies. I’m still looking at Tumblr all the time too. It’s like, a good way to keep me horny and think of more ways for guys to fuck me :) Anyway, I’m writing you because I tried to add more to that stupid story I’ve been working on. I tried to think of stuff, but I just ended up staring at my screen for like, 30 minutes. Then I just started getting horny again so I opened up Tumblr to play with myself. Do you think you can help me or should I give up?
Megan read over the message and, once satisfied it was perfect, clicked Send. Sitting idly at her computer, she pored through her “likes” page on Tumblr. She vaguely noticed that her more recent additions contained less text and more graphic images. Photos and gifs of women being degraded and used in ways that would have seemed absurdly perverted just weeks ago. She sighed, letting her brain relax and focus on the pleasure. Suddenly, her inbox lit up, signaling that Slutmaker must have responded already. Megan opened the message excitedly.
Well, I can understand why you’re having trouble writing. After all, you are a slut, and sluts sometimes find completing even the most menial tasks troublesome. I think it’s time you gave up on writing, but I can still help you become an even better slut. Here’s what I want you to do, go through my Tumblr archive and read every story while you play with that slutty cunt of yours. Eventually there’ll come a point where you’ll no longer be capable of comprehending what you’re reading. When that time comes, just stare at the pretty pictures and keep rubbing your dribbling fuckhole. If you must cum, message me here, asking for permission. You ARE NOT allowed to cum until I say you can, slut. Once I allow you to cum, thank me properly and go back to looking through my gallery and keep masturbating. When you’re finished, message me back. Think you can handle that, slut?
Megan absentmindedly closed the message, her brain swirling with conflicted, fuzzy thoughts. A small part of her rebelled at the words, a part of her that still wanted to write. However, there was a larger, much more aroused part of her that agreed with everything Slutmaker had said. She was a slut, sluts are stupid and make for poor writers, she should have never tried in the first place. She frowned briefly before a lazy smile spread across her lips.
That didn’t mean she shouldn’t try to become a better slut.
Megan opened Slutmaker’s archive and started at the very beginning…
She never noticed the physical changes that occurred while she played with herself. The way her hair color transformed into a beautiful golden blonde. How her breasts expanded and perked up into a hefty, more playful cup size. How every imperfection was melted away and reformed, giving her the look of a pristine sex doll.
No, all Megan was focused on was the pretty pictures, pictures that made her all wet and horny, pictures that forced her to beg Slutmaker for permission to cum. That was all she could concentrate on, playing with herself and cumming like a good slut. She finally reached the last photo, succumbing to a final, mind melting orgasm, her juices leaking the remnants of her brain down her thighs. Breathing heavily, she messaged Slutmaker once more:
I did exactly what you wanted Sir, it felt sooooooooo good! Please give me more things to do like that. I don’t know what else to do or how to do it, please help me Sir!
Megan drooled as she lay in front of her screen, waiting blissfully for a reply. Her fingers began searching out her clit yet again as she drifted into a mindless haze. Slutmaker would know what to do. After all, he’d helped her so much already; all of his advice had been perfect, guiding her into becoming the perfect slut that she was born to be.
But still, she could always improve, always find ways to be even sluttier. She just needed more direction.
She moaned with anticipation as her inbox lit up, hurridly clicking the icon, eager to receive her next set of commands. Megan would obey them without hesitation. That’s what good sluts did. And even though most of her brain had dribbled away, there was still one concrete thought left in her head.