mikeTheFable's Journal

I like getting feedback, I like finishing stories, I like being able to read what I've written. It's intensely satisfying to get something out of my head and onto paper (electronic or otherwise). But god, do I really really fucking hate writing. Ever time I start I stall, it seems, and I just can't finish anything. What a strange position to be in, to crave the result of writing but utterly despise the process. But then I think, it's always been that way. Writing was always very laborious. Maybe I was never writing for the write reasons.

Maybe I should start making photo captions.

Just a small flash I wrote today. I'd like to make it a bigger story. Just thought of a situation where someone is asked why they are behaving strangely, and they tell the other person that they are going to become a bimbo or a slut or whatnot... and that other person is taken in by the story, in which the bimboization is obviously spelled out. Anyway, just something small.

It's porn.


( Read this Porn! )

A while ago I decided to repost some stories which I took down from the archive years ago. After restoring Fable I realized that doing so was a waste of time, as it's impossible, really, to remove any story posted to the EMCSA, unless it is removed within days or weeks of its posting. The webpages of my old stories, and my old author page, had been archived long before I asked them to be taken down. Perhaps this was the internet's way of implying that self-destructive behaviour is futile. It turned out for the better, because my opinions changed. I'm glad they were preserved.

So my old stories, like Pulmonary Archery, Bimbo's Guide... and Alone with Myselves, can be found on the wayback machine through the link called "My Former Self". You can find it in the menu on the left side of this page.

Something I wrote based on the Picture Flash thread on the MCG, but it turned out too long for the thread there. My usual brand of bimboization.  This picture turned out to be worth 1330 words.

Over two years ago I used an event where my online identity leaked into my real life as an excuse to pull my stories from the EMCSA. In reality, I don't think there was any risk at all. I just wanted out. I was angry at the community, changing as a writer. I felt that the direction I was headed wasn't really where mike z. was headed, which at the time felt like a creative dead end.

I realize, though, that some people, perhaps more than I thought, enjoyed those stories and might want to read them again, assuming they never saved them to their harddrives. God bless those packrats; I've decided to put some of my old stories back up on the archive. Despite my feelings towards the community, my impressions of those stories in comparison to my others, or how I have changed over time, my author page is really where those stories belong.

I had thought about doing this a few times before. However a recent comment has pushed me over the edge, in terms of finally doing something about this. So I'm going to be restoring Fable, Alone With Myselves and Pulmonary Archery. More will follow.

I don't think I'll be hanging around the MCG anymore. I'm sick and tired of the two biggest trolls there telling us all that the peace and quiet there is fake. Ya, it is fake.... because of you, you fuckers! It's like an arms dealer is telling me the world is a dangerous place...

Hopefully the people there will come to their senses.

I came across a story on the archive today called Planetary by Fool's Page, and it got me thinking. Many stories on the EMCSA have left me feeling moved, and provided a satisfying sense of cognitive enjoyment that lingered well beyond the time I stopped reading; but stories that strike my kink-bone are usually few and far between. As a reader, I have found that enjoying EMC as a genre requires appreciating stories on their non-erotic merit; there are only those few special stories that seem written for you especially, that feel like one of your own. Planetary felt that way to me. It hit my kink bone pointedly.

I confess to being a bit of an interloper around these parts. The idea of mind control doesn't interest me very much at all, less now than it did 40 months ago, and even then erotic transformation was my focus. There have been many days when I've wondered to myself just why the hell I continue to read and write EMC fiction at all. I often find myself looking past the mind control to get at what I want from a story, to get at something that isn't EMC but which often seems a part of it. Yet, 40 months after reading my very first EMCSA story (Acid Washed Reflections), I'm still here, compelled by an urge to stay, an urge that until recently I had been unable to explicitly explain. I only knew it was there because of stories like Planetary and, to name another recent gem, Company Dress Code.

On the whole, my attraction towards EMC has been a trial and error experience. A lot of error. 

Anyway.... back to Planetary. A bit longer than what I usually take on, but I found it compelling enough to stay for the full 9000 words. It was very well written, so that probably helped suck me in. What really got to me, though, was a particular passage during the Erotic Processing scene in which Melissa (the protagonist) is physically moulded into an ideal body type for her future line of work, and it is suggested that her body is being changed to conform to a template. Reaching this ideal naturally included extensive physical modifications, and I liked that. All the women who went through that process were subjected to those modifications en mass, and the hint was that they were all being endowed with the same ideal physiques. "Standardized" is a good description. Consequently, Melissa and the others lose themselves not merely through having their personalities replaced, but by losing physical and social individuality, by having all their many diversely-shaped bodies replaced with the very same, uniform physique that marks them as units within a social class of Living Dolls. Planetary itself is rife with this theme of conformity through the author's portrayal of a future world where totalitarian brainwashing and unthinking compliance govern through Television, but it was very pointed for me in that scene because of the way the transformation was carried out. The processing centre in the story was organized into a series of stations where the girls passed through, in orderly fashion, and were re-manufactured into something else entirely. It was like an assembly line, mass producing an army of highly similar (if not identical) pleasure units for mass consumption. It should have been called a factory. 

Re-creation is an ubiquitous theme in MC, but nowhere is it more potent to me than in that kind of environment, where the sameness, the unchanging uniformity of an erotic fantasy-existence (in this case the existence of a living sex doll) and objectification coalesce into a recipe that yields legions of mindless, specifically-configured, near-identical Sex Dolls standing in rows in a warehouse, awaiting with infinite patience, obedience and simulated-joy the time when they will be taken away, removed from their wrappers and played with. The sameness and non-individuality become the point here rather than the MC, which stands aside merely as a convenient tool. By the end of Planetary Melissa was no longer really human, nor was Margaret or the resisting brunette who Melissa had watched throughout the story. Their personalities were gone, their bodies re-engineered, almost nothing of their original selves remaining. The characters had been entirely replaced, had ceased to be. They didn't know, but I did. They had transcended, in a way, beyond the bounds of what it meant to be alive. Ascended or descended to this state of whorehood, it doesn't matter. They had become toys. And that was seriously hot. 

I've found it very hard to describe this and it's taken a long time to generate these statements the way I wanted them stated, but I did it. Granted, I was helped and prodded along by others within the genre who regularly question the idea of dollification/bimboization. This comes up every once in a while, I've seen it debated about three or four times since discovering EMC 40 months ago. As to be expected from those who use their own kinks as a normative baseline for comparing to others, and who don't really enjoy (or know) bimbo-fiction, their questioning of bimbos inevitably centres on the phenomenon of IQ reduction, as if that's the only trick to the subgenre.  

Why do I like dumb women in my stories? Well, to answer your question... it's not the dumbness, dummy. Yes, bimbos are bland, "pop"-generic and lacking substance, but they're also picture perfect, uniform and lacking in individual identity. They have a specific, collective style, and their lack of IQ means they all end up sounding and acting the same. They buy their values from the store, or earn them by having 'fun'. Dumbified bimbos go so far as to lack even their own character traits, instead relying on templates or examples like Barbie dolls and pornstars. Conformity is hawt. 

There, that was easy. I explained it better than I thought I would.  

Here, have a video, since you made it this far. It visually illustrates what turns me on so much about EMC fiction. Of course, as it always seems with personal kinks and fetishes, it's esoteric. It will, for the uninitiated, pass as a perfectly ordinary and non-sexual video. Just not for me (and hopefully, for some of you, too). 





There you have it. 

Kurt Vonnegut did it. Now I will; I'm giving myself a report card. We're our own harshest critics, right? Well, I found out that I actually had better feelings towards what I'd written than I ever thought possible. Amazing thing, that.

The report card does not include collaborations or flashes.

New City Vendetta                                                      E
Pulmonary Archery                                                       C+
Streams of Thought                                                     C
The Bimbo's Guide...                                                    B-
Starstruck by Stardust                                                 D
Fable                                                                            A
Alone with Myselves                                                     A

William the Patron Saint of Sodomy                              C

Scrambled Eggs                                                             B
A Pretty Colour; A Pretty Girl                                         B
Behold! The Smartest Bimbo Story Ever Told!               B

Licking Toads of the Galaxy                                          A+

Laid Bare                                                                      C
Purge                                                                            B-
Femininism                                                                    A
You Tart                                                                        B
Worth the Effort                                                            A+
Meghan's Story                                                             A+
Daughters                                                                    A+