Work in Progress [Meta TG]

The SpiralledEye has writer’s block, and unfortunately for her self-aware protagonist, that makes his TG story a little unconventional. 

~

Greg, no wait, Elliot opened his eyes. Or perhaps his name was Marcus?

He blinked up at the ceiling and watched as it flickered between exposed platers, to wooden panels, to plain blue painted with clouds that definitely hadn't been there before.

“The hell?” He muttered, sitting up in bed, “I might be having a stroke.”

‘Not yet, he wasn’t.’

“Who said that?” He asked, throwing off the covers and standing up, watching as his wallpaper switched from pastel flowers to plain white. A fern appeared on his dresser, then disappeared, only to reappear wilted as the walls turned grey.

“Well, this looks depressing…”

‘I’m working on it!’ said the voice. It seemed to be coming from every direction at once. Smooth, warm, slightly confused. ‘Just give me a second. Or maybe you should be Scottish? No. Irish? No, I can’t do accents. Let’s just stick with-’

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded, flinging off his covers, which changed from plaid to floral to tiger print mid-fling, and standing up. "And why is my name Elliot now? It was Greg when I went to sleep!"

‘You never went to sleep, you only just started existing. I only just started. I’m trying to figure you out. Greg was too bland. Elliot has depth. Maybe.’

The man, Greg, Elliot, Marcus, whatever, stared at his reflection in the mirror, which now showed him as a redhead. Then blonde. Then bald.

“Can you make up your damn mind?! It feels weird having my hair grow that fast.”

‘I write these stories every single day, man, can you blame me for getting a bit of writer's block here and there? I just need to figure you out. Once I get the ball rolling, it’ll be fine.’

“Who even are you?”

‘I go by many names.’

“...heh, I bet that sounded cooler in your head, didn’t it?
‘Most things do.’

For a moment, the man felt his biceps flex as he put on muscle, only for it to all melt away, leaving him thin and reedy.

“Hey, I liked that one.”

‘Don’t get too attached, you won't be a man for long.’

“What the hell does that mean?”

‘I write TG stories, I mean, I write other stuff too, but people mainly want the TG stuff.’

“Wait…you’re going to turn me into a woman? Why? And again, who the hell are you?”

‘TheSpiralledEye, obviously. Though sometimes I go by Miss Spiral, I was indecisive with the pen name.’

The man watched as his house shifted into an apartment.

“I see the indecisiveness hasn’t changed.”

‘Oh shut up.’

The man, Marcus, apparently, headed for the door, ready for another day at his job as a…he froze at the door as the world seemed to screech to a halt. His clothing shifted from a business suit to a fry cook uniform, then back to a suit again. That’s right, his job was in an office. 

All of a sudden, he was there, a big, nondescript building filled with cubicles and faceless drones going about their work, which mostly involved typing random things into a computer. 

“Whoa, what the hell? Did I just teleport?”

‘Do you really want a detailed scene of you driving to work? We need to get to the good part.’ 

“What is my job exactly?”

‘Office person for now.’

Marcus sat down at his cubicle and looked for any sort of identifying features, but there was nothing: a coffee cup, a computer, a notebook. 

“Just an office person?”

‘...It’s not important to the story.’

“Then why are we here?”

‘Look, I don’t know, I can’t just skip right to the-oh what the hell, I’ll write the beginning later, let’s get to the main show.’

Suddenly, Marcus was gone from his generic office and instead was in an equally generic bar. A bar, really? God, this writer was a hack. 

‘What did you just think about me?’

“You can hear my thoughts?”

‘I created you, mate. I am basically God. You know what, just for that, I am making this a moral TG story.’

Marcus suddenly felt his personality shifting as memories flooded his brain. Memories of constant rejection from women ever since he was a teenager. His hands curled into fists, watching the beautiful women sitting at the bar, they were all ten out of ten hotties who would probably never take a chance on a nice guy like him. It was so unfair that he was still a virgin at twenty-five, no wait, thirty. 

Still reeling slightly from the fact that he just aged five years in an instant, Marcus found himself walking up to the bar and the women. His palms were sweating. The problem with being self-aware was that he knew this was going to go badly. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk out the door, but TheSpiralledEye was in control now; he couldn’t go against the narrative. Even if he could somehow escape the bar, who knows what was on the other side of that door; he had no idea what would greet him, a blank void, probably. 

Marcus sat himself down at the bar next to a beautiful dark haired woman who was pretending he didn’t exist.

“Hey there,” He smiled, in a way that was probably supposed to be charming, but he leaned in too much, and it just came off as creepy. 

“No.” The woman said simply, focusing on her drink, not even giving him the dignity of a look or a polite smile. 

“No, what?” Marcus said innocently, “I was just saying hello.”

“No, you were going to flirt with me. I can smell the desperation coming off you in waves.”

“Well, there is no need to be rude.”

“Look, I said no, can you leave me alone now?”

“I just wanted a chance!”

“No, you wanted a lay.”

The woman got up and stalked away, but Marcus wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. He was done with being rejected; he reached out and grabbed her arm, and the room stilled. 

“No, I want you to tell me why you’re not giving me a shot. It's because I'm not some hunked up gym bro? I bet you’d be fawning over me if I had a six-pack. Then my confidence would be hot. Not creepy. Admit it, you’re just judging a book by its cover.”

Marcus wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Nobody talked like this in real life!

“Oh yeah? Would you walk up to a woman at a bar if you didn’t think she was pretty?”

“Women only have worth if they are pretty, that’s the whole point of them!”

‘Hm, that’s pretty on the nose, eh, I will change it later.’

“You can’t change it now? You’ve made me a raging asshole!”

The woman blinked in surprise and pulled away. “Oh God, I think he’s crazy, somebody call the police!”

“I’m not crazy! It’s the author's fault!”

‘Don’t blame me, you did that all by yourself, mate. Oh! That gives me an idea though!’

Before he knew it, police had flooded the bar, and a pair of handcuffs were slapped across his wrists. A female sergeant pressed her body to his, pinning him to her squad car. It was humiliating, being overpowered by a woman, but Marcus was so thin, he didn't stand a chance against the fit officer. 

“So, you think women are only good for sex, huh?” She whispered as another officer took the woman's statement.”

“No, that’s not exactly what I said, and I didn’t even want to say it! She made me!”

The officer rolled her eyes.

“It’s always the woman’s fault with you guys.”

“Not her, I mean TheSpiralledEye! She’s the one making me act this way!”

‘If you’re a good person, the transformation seems unfair; if you’re an asshole, I can make it all karmic.’

“How does that make it better?”

“Hey!” The police officer pressed her elbow into his back. “Don’t try to play crazy, it won’t work with me.”

“I’m not-”

“Shut up. Tell you what, I think you deserve to be taught a lesson. If I take you to jail, you’ll just join up with a bunch of misogynistic assholes. No, you deserve something more…karmic.”

The police officer pulled Marcus to the side and slipped into an alleyway, making him stumble to the ground. Marcus flinched as she approached, but to his surprise, she removed the cuffs and smiled. 

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

The police officer grinned at him, gave a mock salute and then disappeared back out into the street. Marcus stared after her for a moment, then got to his feet only to instantly lose his balance. It was like the world had suddenly shifted, and his centre of gravity was off. He staggered to lean against the wall and almost rolled an ankle as he wobbled in his heels. 

“Wait, since when am I wearing heels?” 

He looked down and indeed, his sensible sneakers had been replaced with a pair of strappy red heels. Then, before his very eyes, his clothing started to unravel, the threads coming undone at the seams and morphing into golden light before reforming into…

There was a pause, and the whole world froze around him. Marcus blinked and waited. And waited…

“Uh, you alright up there?”

‘I’m thinking.’

“Could you think a little faster? I’m naked, and it’s cold down here.”

The warm summer air brushed against his naked skin.

“Thank you! But still, clothes would be nice!”

A beat passed, then time resumed, and the spinning threads made themselves into a skimpy-looking black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline and golden trim. It hung off his square body awkwardly, and for a second, Marcus thought he was safe.

“So she just wanted to humiliate me? Whatever, I can deal with an embarrassing walk home.” 

Then suddenly, he was bent over double as pressure built in his ass. He could feel his hips starting to stretch out, bones clicking as his butt cheeks ballooned. He could feel the skin there turning tight, round and bouncy as his flat butt suddenly turned peach-shaped. 

“Oh God.” Marcus groaned, “Do you have to make it so detailed? I can feel everything!”

‘It’s what people are here for.’

Marcus opened his mouth to argue with the author again, but suddenly the air left his lungs as his waist cinched. He shot an irritated look toward the sky, sure she’d done that on purpose to stop his complaining. She had. 

A moment later, a tingling sensation began to spread across his skull, and something feather-light tickled against his shoulders. Marcus’s hands reached up and pulled on a long lock of blonde hair.

‘No wait, that’s overdone.’

The hair suddenly turned black, then frizzy, to gentle waves of brown. Marcu’s skull was itching more with every change. 

‘Oh, I know! Redhead! That’s always fun. Less stereotypical than the blonde bimbo, too.’

The strands turned red, and Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. He felt the wind blow over his lips as they changed, becoming fuller and more sensitive. He moved his fingers, now delicate and soft, over his cupid’s bow.

“What’s a cupid’s bow?”

‘That little dip above your lip.’

“Are you sure? That sounds made up.”

‘Hey, who’s the writer here?’

Then Marcus felt something that filled him with dread; his cock rising back up into his body. His thighs pressed together in vain, as if trying to hold it in place, but it was no use. He could only moan helplessly as his cock and balls disappeared back into his body, leaving a hollow feeling between his legs. It burned; the emptiness was almost painful. Marcus didn't want to be turned on, feeling his new pussy form, but he couldn’t help it. It was so sensitive and delicate and…

‘Crap, what’s a good word…I use wet too much. Um…hot!”

Yes, hot. The heat built instantly, like a fire inside him that could only be put out one way, by being filled. 

“I don’t think that makes sense.” Marcus moaned, trying not to think about the sensation between his legs. 

‘I’ll look over it again later, I just want to get to the good bits.’

“I thought this was supposed to be the good bit!”

‘No, this is.’

There was only one thing missing from his new, womanly body, and that was curves. He had his new ass, but that was just the bottom half. He needed those lovely orbs, the ones that everybody, man and woman, found attractive. His chest began to swell, and Marcus could only look on in horror as two beautiful breasts began to grow rapidly. He felt his nipple peak, poking upwards through his now tight-fitting mini dress. He had no bra, so he had no choice but to hold up the heavy mounds to stop his back from protesting. 

But then, suddenly, they shrank down to B cups, then Cs, then back up to H’s before finally settling around a D cup. The rapid growth and changes left him dizzy, and he groaned.

“Please, for the love of God, just decide what I look like before you start typing!”

‘No God here, just me.’

Marcus was fully changed now, and thought he didn't want to admit it. Painfully horny. He knew how these things went; he was supposed to be unable to resist his new urges and walk back into that bar to find a man to take him. Well, Marcus refused. He wasn’t going to let TheSpiralledEye turn him into one of her bimbo stories. It didn’t matter how horny the author made her; she wasn’t going to give in.

“You changed my pronouns halfway through that paragraph.” She moaned, squeezing her thighs together and shivering at the sensations it caused. 

‘I did that on purpose, to show how you’re giving in to the change.’

“Like hell I am.”

‘Would you just get in there and pick a man to fuck. I have bills to pay.’

“Fuck you!”

‘Now there’s a story idea…’

Arguing with the author was good. It distracted her from the wetness slowly spreading through her panties. Maybe she could have her cake and eat it, too. She didn't have to give in fully and sleep with somebody, maybe just…her fingers. One orgasm and she’d be able to think clearly. She lifted the red dress up to reveal her panties. 

“Wasn’t it black a minute ago?”

‘Crap!’

She lifted the black dress up to reveal her panties. They were silky, and even in the darkness of the alley, she could see wetness glinting on them. With a shaky breath, she slipped a hand inside to cup her mound. Soft, curly hair and heat greeted her, and Marcus shuddered. She wanted to tell the author to change her name to something more suitable, but then her finger slipped between her folds, and words failed. 

Her finger slowly stroked back and forth along her folds, then curled her clit. The pleasure was unreal, so much stronger than she was used to as a man. The author continued to describe all the lewd thoughts in her head as she helplessly stroked herself. Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. The SpiralledEye’s words told her exactly how to touch herself, order after order, and she obeyed them all and was rewarded with the strongest orgasm she had ever experienced. Juices gushed into her panties, and her legs shook as it finally died down. 

“Oh God, that felt so good.” She moaned. 

Unfortunately for her, TheSpiralledEye wasn’t done with her yet.

“Wait, what?”

She was still horny; if anything, that orgasm had only wet her appetite, and that hollow feeling inside her was starting to ache. What she needed, more than anything, was a good, hard fuck. 

“Oh fiiiine, who am I sleeping with?”

‘You’re on board? Excellent, that makes things easier.’

“Hurry up and give me somebody to ride! I am dying down here.”

What was the point in fighting it? The author was going to make her do it soon enough anyway. Marcus was vaguely aware that this character development was a bit rushed, but thought better than to bring it up with the author, just in case she made her do something more humiliating. 

She walked down the street, skipping past the first bar and heading to a much trendier one up the street. With each step, her hips swayed and her ass bounced. God, it felt great. A little embarrassing, but she could handle it. Especially if it meant she finally got laid. When she walked into the bar, heads turned. She flicked her now long, red hair over her shoulder and smiled deviously, surveying the options. In the end, she decided on a little test.

Rather than approaching any of the eligible bachelors, Marcus instead sat at the bar and waited for somebody to come and buy her a drink. Her ass hung off the seat slightly, and she leaned forward, giving the bartender her most charming smile until he poured her a cider on the house. 

The cider morphed into a cosmopolitan, then a lemon lime and bitters.

“The hell is that?”

‘A drink? Wait, shit, those are an Aussie thing, fuck.’

The drink morphed into a purple, nondescript cocktail, and she sipped at it. Sweet and fruity, the perfect drink for a woman on the prowl. The sugar coated her lips just as a handsome-looking man in a business suit slid onto the stool beside her. He was handsome, with a chiselled jaw and broad shoulders, and a deep, sensual voice. 

“Hey there.” He drawled.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Looking for company?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Marcus felt a bolt of shame pass through him as he leaned over the bar to get closer to the man. She could practically smell him from here, and she wanted nothing more than to run her tongue along his shoulder blades. She didn’t want to wait through a lot of innuendo and flirting, she wanted to get things going, and frankly, the author couldn’t think of any clever dialogue. So instead, she decided on a party trick. 

“Watch this,” Marcus cooed, taking the cherry and popping the stem in her mouth, tying it in a knot. “Wanna see what else I can do with mahajagddhehfuerhfeoij!”
The man jumped back in surprise, and Marcus felt her face grow hot.

‘Sorry, my cat jumped on the keyboard.’

“I’m going to…go now.” The businessman said with an uneasy smile, slipping off the barstool and walking as fast as humanly possible toward the exit. 

“Great. Thanks for that.”

‘Don’t blame me, it was the cat.’

“Just find me somebody to fuck, please. I am so goddamn horny.”

‘Yeah, yeah, hang on.’

Poor Marcus was so desperate now that she would have taken anybody, but nobody in the bar wanted anything to do with her after that display. She left, walking down the alley feeling dejected, when suddenly, the door to the kitchen of a local restaurant opened and out stepped a burly-looking chef with white blonde hair. He looked her up and down and smiled.

“Are you alright, miss?”

He spoke with a European accent, so sophisticated. The author would definitely come back and be more specific about which European country it was later. Marcus would have complained about the rushed pace of things, but she was just that turned on; she didn’t care. She stepped toward the man and let one strap fall off her shoulder. 

“I’m just lonely.” He pouted, “Do you think you could keep me company?”

The chef grinned and undid his apron, tossing it back through the kitchen door and slamming it closed. 

“What good timing, I’m on my break.” 

He grabbed her firmly by the arms and pushed her against the wall, pushing up and inside her quickly. Before she could think, they were fucking, and Marcus moaned like a whore until he finally pulled out.

“Wait, that’s it?”

‘I’m having writer's block, okay?’

“No, no, no, you don’t get to have writer's block after everything you’ve put me through today. Take it back, I want details, lady! You promised me and the readers a good fuck, and that’s what I want!”

‘Fine…’

There was a sound of cracking knuckles, and suddenly, the world ran in reverse. Marcus was back in the alleyway with the chef approaching, a hungry look in his eyes. Without a word, he reached out, his hands closing around her waist with a roughness that sent a shiver down her spine. He pulled her against him, and Marcus felt his hot breath against her ear.
Marcus gasped softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she revelled in the touch. It was different from using her own hands, better. With a growl, he spun her, pressing her chest against the cold brick wall, the rough surface scraping against her skin. His hands slid down her thighs, gripping them firmly as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. Marcus squeaked as her body moved oddly; humans were not supposed to bend this way.
‘Wait, she can’t face the wall and wrap her legs around him…’
Their positions shifted and suddenly, Marcus’s back was against the wall. He positioned himself between her legs. Marcus moaned loudly, her head thrown back, her red hair cascading down her back. The chef thrust into her with a force that stole her breath, his urgency matching her own insatiable hunger. Finally, that burn between her legs was being satisfied.
The chef took her hard, his hips snapping against hers as he fucked her hard and fast. Marcus clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body arching against his with every thrust. The cold wall bit into her back, a stark contrast to the heat pooling between her legs. She felt shameless, her moans echoing off the grimy walls as she surrendered to her new urges.
“Harder,” she gasped, her voice thick with need. “Fuck me harder. Come on!”
He growled in response, his hands tightening on her thighs as his thrusts became even more brutal. Marcus cried out, her head spinning, her body teetering on the edge of an orgasm that was sure to blow the first one out of the water. The chef’s breath was hot against her neck, and she kissed it, running her teeth along his skin.
The first climax hit her like a wave, crashing over her with a force that left her trembling. Her body squeezed around him, and came silently, mouth open. The chef followed soon after, his groan muffled against her shoulder as he spilled into her. For a moment, they stayed pressed against the wall, gasping for breath. Then, the chef reluctantly set her down.
“That’s more like it.” Marcus breathed, legs still trembling.
‘Oh, you’re not done yet.’
She hadn’t even caught her breath before the chef grabbed her again and pulled her back against that wall.
“Not done yet,” he growled.
Marcus shivered with desire. “I don't know if I can take another…”
“You will.”
Marcus moaned and kissed him again. The second round was even rougher, more desperate. The chef’s hands roamed over her body with a possessive hunger, his lips bruising against her skin as he kissed and bit his way down her neck. Marcus moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, her body arching against his as he fucked her so hard the pleasure and pain became one.
He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting a spot deep within her that had her crying out in pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, her body trembling on the brink of another orgasm. It was too much, too good, she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. The chef’s hands slid down, gripping her ass as he lifted her, hitting her G-spot over and over again.
“Cum.”
Marcus gasped, her body obeying his command as she shattered around him; this time, she was anything but silent. She was so overtaken that she barely felt the chef cumming inside her again.
Finally spent, they went their separate ways, but Marcus was far from done.  A single passionate encounter in an alleyway wasn’t enough to sate her lust now. She took on a new name, Marina and took to prowling the streets at night like a predator, hungry for all the men she could have. 

And that was how she spent his days, stuck in that bimbo body, unable to resist the allure of the men she came across. And although she still felt shame for her sluttiness, she learned to accept her new life and see the best of it.

No, that’s too sappy, let’s take it back.

Marina blinked, finding herself back on the street outside the alley again.

“What!? How am I back here again!?”

‘The ending was too sappy.’

“So you drag me back? I just lived an entire life, woman! I got married! I…I learned the importance of self-acceptance, and now I have to do it all over again!?

‘Most people would kill for a second chance at life.’

“Only when they’re the ones making those decisions!”

‘You know what, it’s getting late. I think I need to shelve this one for now. Maybe I’ll come back to it in a few months.’

“What!? No, you can’t leave me here like this!”

‘Mate, I’m tired. Look, if I give you a happy ending, will you quit complaining?’

Marcus nodded, and she felt the world swirling around her, forming into a fancy penthouse apartment. Memories flooded into her: seducing a rich businessman in a loveless marriage and becoming his mistress. It was an unconventional end, but one in which she had love, companionship and everything she needed provided for her. 

“Okay, yeah, I can get behind this.” Marina smiled, looking around her new home just as her silver fox walked through the door.

“My wife is away,” He grinned, “So the mice shall play.”

“Oh, and what do you want to play, my love?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

He didn’t answer; instead, he kissed her and took her to bed. 

~

TheSpiralledEye sat back at her desk and stretched, feeling her spine pop. 

“That was a weird one.” She sighed, “But that’s what I get for borrowing FoxFace’s magic typewriter, I suppose.” 

She glanced out the window and huffed; her asshole neighbour had left his bins on her side of the fence. Again. She ran her fingers over the keys curiously. 

“Hm, I wonder if this thing’s magic would work in reality…”

With a wicked grin, she loaded up a new sheet of paper and watched as the neighbour stepped out onto his front porch. Eyes glued to him, she started to write. 

~

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