Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Video Study #7: "Stay out of my territory."

I've been wanting a "Breaking Bad" mask for a long time and thanks to an early tax refund, I was able to get it.

Jeremy Gardner's Evolution Masks has produced an incredible mask representing Brian Cranston's character on the TV series "Breaking Bad". Fitment overall is superb, although I was a bit disappointed at the reduced size bib. I'm more used to the full coverage with pecs from Studio135 or Realflesh, but I guess that Heisenberg wasn't wearing his shirts half undone to show off his ripped physique, right?

Eye fitment is excellent, but knowing what I do now, I would have requested to have the eyeholes cut about 1mm smaller.

Lip fitment is very good, but slightly different than those of other vendors. The lower lip goes straight in without cupping and the upper lip cups to a much greater extent than other masks.

My only real criticism of the mask here is the finish. It's a bit on the shiny side, but nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of powder. Hopefully, Jeremy will produce a bit more of a matte finish on his later creations.

Friday, May 5, 2017

Video Study #6: The "Hero" From Realflesh Masks

Strong jaw, good cheekbones and an improved lip fitment ... what more could you ask for? 

Ian Marier has really done a great job on his new "Hero" mask. He's built up the traps on this mask to give a much better silhouette and has continued his excellent bib design with well-developed pecs.

If you take a look of some of Tom Cruise's earliest movies (the ones before his first nose job) you will see that Ian has also incorporated a bit of that look into the "Hero" mask.

There also may have been improvements to the core, or perhaps a new core. The mask fits more snugly on the face, and the longer it is worn, the better it feels and adheres.

Overall, another great mask from Realflesh and a definite BUY recommendation for this mask!

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Micah

Cash Ingraham was a six-year veteran of the Four-One and was resistant to the idea of becoming a brutha – even for a short time. It took his partner – a voluble and cheerful rookie named Micah Benchley – to experience his own Conversion to convince him to give it a try.

Zack decided to remold his features and made him a drop-dead handsome black man along the lines of David MacIntosh or Shemar Moore. His light mocha skin was covered with substantial blackwork tattoos and his aristocratic features and wider lips were absolutely made for kissing.

Cash – as Jax Thomas – spent twenty-six weeks as a black man - which was a surprise to everyone - including himself. Six of those weeks overlapped Micah’s stint as Ajani Cole, and the two Nubians spent a good deal of that time indulging in criminal activities ... as well as pounding each other senseless – on and off duty.

This is their story.

"Officer Mikeeee!!!" The small multi-colored blur rushed towards the two officers on patrol. Micah Benchley swung the child in his muscular arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The little boy gave the young cop a tight hug.

"Ooof!!! You're getting so big, Lucas!!! How old are you now??"

The child put up three fingers. "TRES anos?? WOW!!!" The little boy grabbed his cap and put it on his head as Benchley put him on his powerful shoulders. The two patrolmen (and giggling boy) turned into the panaderia a few doors down from their assault. A bell tinkled as they entered and Eloise Navarro bustled out from the back. The harried woman was holding an infant that was fussing and looked ready to break into a full-scale bawling.

"Lucas! What did I tell you about bothering the patruellos?"

"Oh, he's never a bother, Mrs. Navarro… this is the best part of the day for me…" He gave her a bright smile and put Lucas down. He grabbed a towel and threw it over his shoulder; he held out his hands. "Let me hold Angel for a bit… Hey cutie-pie!!" The grateful woman smiled as Micah held the baby close to him and stroked his back. The infant gave a contented hiccup, a wide smile and then dozed off. The two officers ordered some iced mocha coffee and took seats in the back of the bakery.

Cash Ingraham ran a hand through his dark brown hair and cleared his throat. "Micah…" His hazel eyes looked troubled. "… you know that all the rooks go through some type of initiation, right??…"

Benchley took a sip of his coffee. "I kinda thought that, Cash, but everyone from Cap Morgan down has been great - I was wondering what was going on and when the other shoe was going to drop. What's going to happen?"

"We're a special group here. The Initiation you go through needs to prove you can be one of us. The bonds between the men at the Four-One are absolutely unbreakable. You wouldn't be here if Cap didn't think you had what it takes. 

What used to happen was that the baby cop - in this case, you - would get beaten and raped by the other guys. That's what happened to me. I was in the hospital for two weeks - and that was considered getting off easy. Now what happens is that you get shaved and bound. You're expected to service everyone at your Initiation - orally or anally - several times. At the end of the night, they allow the same privilege with you. Now we've added another part to the process for certain rooks - you get Transformed into a black man for an extended period of time as well. You know the black guys at the station? Well, none of them are really African-American."

Benchley's mouth dropped open in shock. "Huh?"

Ingraham nodded. "Yeah. You couldn't tell, could you? Some of them are baby cops as well… others are veteran cops that want to experience being black thugs for a while. We're going to get molds done of your face and hands so you can get Transformed back to yourself when your Initiation is over. I'm taking  you to get that done after watch today."

The young patrolman gulped but was excited nonetheless. "How long do I…we…they stay that way?"

"It depends. Usually between 2-4 months. Sometimes more."

* * *


Donte McIntyre had finished giving his dark skin a light coat of oil when he sauntered over to Micah in the locker room.  He was naked; his black horsecock and balls were enclosed by two heavy steel  c-rings and he gave the rookie a bright white smirk.

"Frum da way you iz lookin' at me, Ah guess Cash tol' you 'bout us?" He trailed a dark finger down between Benchley's pecs. The young officer trembled at the light touch.

The rookie swallowed hard. "I-It's absolutely amazing…"

"Yeah - itz da best thing t' happen to a white boy ... b'cummin' an "xtra-speshul" brutha iz like hittin' da lottery. You gettin' 'Nitiated in two weeks, right?"

Benchley nodded. "I got my molds a few days ago."

McIntyre grinned in approval. "Good. Meet me afta da shif' endz. We'll talk."

* * *
McIntyre and Benchley left the precinct around 4:00pm and got into the Converted officer's 4x4 Dodge. After about an hour on the Long Island Expressway, the two took Exit 14 into Long Island City and drove through the narrow streets until they reached a somewhat dilapidated warehouse.  The officers exited the car and McIntyre pressed several buttons on a hidden keypad. Benchley heard the "thunk" as the door unlocked and they proceeded into the dim and dilapidated space.

Micah followed the other policeman and soon found himself in a large, clean and well-lit area, completely at odds with the passageway he just exited. Present were three of the other Converted officers from the Four-One: Andre Randolph, Najeem Patterson and Anjawon Reynolds. All of them gave the rookie bright white grins.

Reynolds spoke up as he rubbed his overstuffed crotch. "Hey bro, dat's one cute white boy you brung us…" All present laughed.

Micah was still in shock as he looked at the other men present. "You're REALLY not black guys?"

McIntyre shook his head. "Well, not 'xactly. We IZ bruthas right now - ain't no way you could tell da diff'rence 'tween one ov us an' a black man offa da street. But we all usta be white. Back then mah name wuz Archer Brandt."

Najeem grinned. "Ah wuz Frank Dorsey."

Andre smiled at the rookie. "Mah name wuz Jeffrey McKee."

Reynolds chimed in. "An' Ah wuz Patrick Foster."

"We knowz we all gotta Convert back at sum point, but dat's up tah us an' Rico... we iz enjoyin' ev'ry minnit bein' bruthas ..." Najeem grinned. "An' bein' felons... an' actin' da part..."

"You've got records, too?" Benchley was stunned.

Andre nodded. "Uh-huh. We all got rap sheets az long as yo' arm. An' outstandin' warrants too." His dark face lit up. "We iz hidin' from da po-lice by BEIN' po-lice. We all iz jus' a heartbeat away from goin' ta prison fo' da rest ov our lives. And dat makes ev'ry minnit ov da time we iz bruthas such a fuckin' rush… Y'see, we cain talk ta you 'bout our Transfo'mayshun, - since you iz part ov da Four-One … but we cain't talk ta no one else 'bout it - 'cept Zack."

The black thug paused. "We all gotz condishunin' ta go wiff  becomin' black men - if'n we getz arrested o' any shit like dat, we cain only say who our rap sheetz sayz we iz ... an' we iz doin' plenty ov crim'nal shit when we iz off-duty dat would getz us sent tah Attica if'n we getz caught."

Najeem cleared his throat. "Ah gotta axe you sumpthin, Micah - you bein' a baby cop n'all ... you evva take a dick up da ass o' down da throat? Evva fuck'd anotha guy?"

He shook his head. Benchley's cock was painfully hard and was making an obvious bulge down the leg of his jeans. He reddened in shame at his response. "But after what Cash told me and seeing you guys… I… I want to…" The thought of having sex with (or in some aspect, being raped by) the quartet of muscular black criminals was intoxicating.  And the fact they were really white cops was even more mind-blowing to the young rookie.

"Ah thought so. Sum ov uz wuz gay tah start wiff - othas needed jus' a little push in da right die-rection. Seems you in da latter category... We gonna take care ov dat t'nite so you ain't in az much pain durin' yo' 'Nitiation… 'cause itz gonna be ruff."

The black men stripped off their clothing. Some wore leather harnesses framing their well-developed torsos and all had black paratrooper boots gleaming in the overhead lighting; each man's substantial package was framed in two or more thick steel cockrings that gleamed in the overhead lighting.

Donte closed the distance between himself and the rookie and began to tug Benchley's t-shirt out of his jeans. "C'mon, bro… let's get you nekkid." The black man pulled the shirt over the rookie's head and began to softly kiss and caress the white cop. Pants, shoes, socks and underwear followed quickly until Micah was as bare as the others. His cock was achingly erect and leaking pre-cum onto the concrete flooring. The black men surrounded him and took turns kissing and stroking his muscular body and the young patrolman returned the embraces with equal fervor. Micah closed his eyes in pleasure. Suddenly, he felt a warm wetness around  his cock and opened his eyes to find Andre Randolph on his knees sucking him off. He was shocked at how good it felt. He caressed the head and shoulders of the Nubian felon as he continued to vacuum Benchley's tool down his gullet.

Andre was an amazing cocksucker - Micah felt his nuts churn and groaned as he exploded down the black man's throat. Randolph continued to suck him dry and then gave his still-stiff prong a final lick before he standing up.

Micah was in a daze. Donte stroked his face and then gave him a less-than-gentle kiss. "Now you relax'd … firs' step iz getting' you clean'd out… c'mon…" The two men entered the industrial showers.

This was also the rookie's first experience with an enema. The black man pushed a thin plastic nozzle attached to a hose up his chute.  After the initial cramping, the warm water was flushed several times into and out of his guts until it was clear. The two then returned to the others. Donte grabbed a bottle of lube and slicked up his horsecock until it was glistening.

"OK, Micah, Ah'm gonna dick you. Ah'm gonna go real slow tah start. Ah knowz itz gonna hurt, but we all been troo dis. Stretch yo'self ovva dat table. Spred dem legs wide. Relax. Take deep breaths…"

McIntyre lubed up a dark finger and pressed it into the waiting pucker. Micah shifted uneasily. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Keep going." The dark finger burrowed deeper and gently massaged the rookie's prostate. The thug then pulled out and inserted two fingers into the velvety darkness. Micah hissed in pain. "Ah know, Ah know... Ah'm sorry... but you gotta git stretch'd enuf tah take a brutha's horsecock. All ov da guyz at da precinct iz well-endowed... you iz too…" The discomfort began to ease as the massage continued. "Mos' ov da guyz ain't gonna be stretchin' you firs' … dey iz gonna lube up an' ram in."

Three fingers now invaded the rookie and the stretch burned but was no longer painful. "OK now dat you iz loosened up, Ah'm goin' in. You tell me if'n Ah needz tah stop fo' a minnit...."

Benchley felt the thick head again his rosebud. "Owww!!!!" A short, sharp pain shot through him as  he was breached. The black thug stopped. The pain receded. "Keep going, Donte...." The ebon horsecock continued to bore slowly into virgin guts until Micah felt the other man's ballsac against his asscheeks.

The rookie exhaled as McIntyre pulled all the way out. "Whew…."

Micah gasped as the thug's tool pumped in again, but this time there was no pain. Strong hands gripped his waist as the black man began a slow, penetrating rhythm. Damn this feels good.

"Once you get fuck'd da right way, nuthin' evva feelz as good, 'cept when you iz fuckin' another guy." Donte screamed as he exploded within the young white cop and Benchley felt the deep comforting warmth of the black man's seed within his guts. McIntyre pulled out and kissed the rookie's neck. "You done good... Anjawon gonna dick you next." Micah sighed as he felt another strong pair of hands caress his flanks as the next black felon began to rape him.

* * *

Sore, but contented, Micah knelt before the quartet of Nubians he had serviced. McIntyre had inserted a 2-inch buttplug into the rookie to keep him stretched and to prevent the manseed from his first breeding from dribbling out. They had also given him a pair of sturdy rubber kneepads. Andre stroked his face and brushed a lock of sweaty hair from the young man's forehead. "You up to swallowin' sum man meat, M?" The rookie nodded.

"Open wide, bro." The black man sprayed some minty liquid down his throat. "Axe Zack fo' da throat spray afta you is Converted. Helps suckin' cock all night - dis iz da stuff he uses."

"You nevva sucked cock, neither?" Micah shook his head. "Lissen up... sum guys gonna grease up d'eir toolz b'fore, otherz ain't. Best thing tah do is get da dick nice an' wet firs' ... lick it like an ice-cream cone an' get da whole head in yo' mowff. Hol' da shaft first so you cain cuntrol how much ov it getz in. Once you used tah it, take a deep, deep breath in an' out an' d'en relax yo jaw an' open wide an' let go ov da shaft…"

Andre grinned at the eager young man before him. "Ready, white boy?" Micah licked his lips and smiled back.

"Ah'm gonna shove it down yo' gullet an' hol' it d'ere... lotta guyz like cock-chokin' you firs' ... rotate yo' haid an' neck an' give mah tool a massage an' d'en pull back a bit..."

Micah was licking Andre's tool when the thug grabbed the rookie's head and shoved his cock down his throat. The black man felt the white cop tense as his air was cut off.

"Ssshhhhh ... Take it eazy, M... If'n you panic, you iz gonna black out, an' Rico iz gonna punish you fo' dat. Do wat Ah toldz you." Randolph stroked Micah's shoulders and then felt the rookie's body relax; his horsecock was still wedged down the young man's throat.

"Ahhh… dat's good. Breathe in troo yo' nose." The black man pulled back and shoved it down the willing throat once more. With each cycle, Micah found it easier and easier to service the thug's massive tool and breathe between thrusts. Finally, he felt the cock expand and thick cum spurt down his gullet. Randolph pulled out and tipped the other's head back and chuckled.

"Yo iz a damn fine cocksucker … you sure you nevva did dis befo' ??"

Micah laughed. "No Andre, but I'm sure you won't be my last…"

Anjawon stroked his neck as he moved around to get serviced by Benchley next. He grasped Micah's head and slid his cock into the open mouth. "Troo dat…"

Reynolds was pumping his tool into the eager mouth below him. Najeem turned to Donte. "Don' forgit … we also gotta cuff 'im an' seez how he managez wiffout hiz handz…"

* * *

"How you feeling, stud? Ready for the festivities?" Zack looked up from the leather harness he was repairing.

Ajani Cole - the newly Transformed black felon and formerly white cop Micah Benchley - grinned at his creator. "Dayumm - Ah cain't wait tah get inta dat room an' fo' da orgy tah start!!" The Nubian thug was naked save for locked leather bands with D-rings around his wrists and upper arms; his feet were shod in a scuffed pair of paratrooper boots with slouched and dirty white socks (with a pair of slave bands over them as well) and a pair of heavy rubber kneepads.

He rubbed his now-ebon package which was imprisoned within a fiendishly designed chastity device made of gleaming steel; it was made to keep him constantly aroused and yet unable to do anything about it. His voice was an octave deeper and now sported a noticeable ethnic drawl while speaking as well.

"Dis thing duzn't hurt so much now… an' Ah'm surprised how good it feels bein' locked up like dis…" Zack grinned as the thug paced the room; every muscle was in perfect definition and his dark glutes flexed and shifted with every step he took.

After he had been Converted into an African gang-banger, the former police officer had wasted no time in stretching the dark-haired artist over a table and raping him mercilessly. His violation had been interrupted by Sergeant Jamie Reardon (himself now Transformed into "Rico Landry") who had pulled him off the other man, slamming him into a wall.

"No fuckin' white boyz 'till afta you getz 'Nitiated!!!" He looked critically at the newly created muscle-brutha. "Even if'n you iz one fine looking nigga…" That was when he told Zack to lock his package up as part of his preparation. The metal tube pushed down his urethra had burned on entry, but he soon became used to its presence and nevertheless filled the device with a semi-hardon that produced a constant painful buzz of pleasure. The heavily dieseled black thug left the two men alone again to finish the preparations for the night's activities.

"By the way, Micah - 'Crisco. Lightsaber. Vermiculite' …"

The black thug swayed on his feet for a moment. "Wat wuz dat? Ah felt real strange fo' a minnit…"

"I just kicked in some post-hypnotic commands. As long as you look the way you do now, you won't be able to respond to your former name - only 'Ajani Cole' or any of its variants. You also won't be able to sign your former name on any legal document unless you are completely alone. You can't speak about your Transformation or who you used to be to anyone except me and other guys at the Four-One; to the rest of the world, you can only say you're the black man you are at the moment. Finally, you're going to find it natural to speak like a hoodie rat with a tenth-grade education - not that you can't speak like the white guy you used to be… but it's just going to get progressively harder and harder and more unnatural to do it."

The dark face frowned. "Fuuucck… why you do dat tah me?"

Zack grinned. "Well… one, it's for insurance - so you don't inadvertently reveal yourself  or the rest of us, and two, it adds to the experience of being a felon."

At that point Landry reentered the workroom.  Save for the dark Corcoran boots and a thick steel cock ring, he was naked; his face was set in a scowl and his green-hazel eyes were hard and flinty. "Zack, you dunn wiff mah harness yet?"

"Just finished. Let me help you into it." With that, the well-muscled artist brought the strapping over to the massive black gang-banger and slid the leather into place; as he was cinching the buckles in the back, Landry threaded the long center strip from the main ring down through the metal  surrounding his package and fastened it in place. 

The Nubian stretched and twisted as the harness creaked and settled onto his herculean frame. "Ahh… dat feels so good…" Zack then proceeded to slip an open jockstrap onto the thug in front of him and struggled to pull his massive package through the front opening.

"What pouch do you want for tonight, Rico?"

"Ah think da one wiff da blue an' white stripe…" The dark-haired man went over to a wall containing a variety of pouches. He found the one requested and returned to the thug and snapped it onto the front. The black man's package combined with the cock ring produced an absolutely obscene bulge that the pouch was barely able to contain. The Nubian grinned and pulled the smaller man to him for a hard kiss.

Then he turned his attention to the naked thug in the room. His thick lips curled into a vicious grin. "What's yo' D'partment ov Corrections ID, bro?"

With that, Cole's world spun as a whole set of new memories flooded over him. He remembered growing up black; he remembered all of the crimes he had committed; he remembered every white boy he had forcibly raped and the feelings of triumph he had experienced with each one; he recalled the numerous encounters with cops as he was arrested - he even remembered every detail of his trial and sentencing - from the look on the judge's face to the ketchup stain on the bailiff's tie. All in frightening and absolutely realistic detail. His former history - that of a white man - was now fuzzy and disjointed - like it belonged to someone else.

"Jeezus …." There wasn't a 'Micah Benchley' any longer - just me… a black street hustler with a criminal record named 'Ajani Cole'.

Rico chuckled. "Well, now you got all da mem'ries you needz t'be one ov Zack's "xtra-speshul" bruthas…" He pulled Cole's arms behind his back and locked the D-rings of his wrist restraints together with a pair of handcuffs. "… itz time fo' you t'get 'Nitiated…"

* * *

The newly-made black man closed the door to his apartment behind him and leaned exhaustedly against the wall. "Shee-it…Itz been one helluva day…" Looking around him, he felt a strange sense of dislocation; this place belonged to a white guy named "Micah Benchley", not him - a Nubian gang-banger. At 4AM, the sky remained a velvety blackness, but the young thug had been going non-stop since 6AM the previous morning. Cole was dressed in snug camo pants topped with a black compression tee and a pair of semi-laced Timberlands. Steel rings adorned a number of his fingers, a group of beaded and leather thong bracelets circled one dark wrist while a massive military-styled wristwatch covered the other;  the clothing and sneakers he wore to his Transformation the previous day were in a backpack he had dropped on the sofa. He trudged over to the large AC unit and flipped it on, then stripped and headed into the bathroom for a cool shower.

* * *

Naked and dripping wet, Ajani Cole looked at himself in the full-length mirror. A brutally handsome and powerfully muscled Nubian licked his thick lips and grinned back at him.

The large CZ studs glittered in his dark ears and he fondled the steel barbells in his newly pierced and still-sensitive nips, while his massive package was artfully trapped within its gleaming steel confines. God…There's nothing to prove I ever WAS a white man. "Fuucckk… I'z a sex-craz'd black felon now." 

Saying that aloud in his newly deeper voice reinforced the dominating criminal memories and gave the thug a massive rush of pleasure. "And Ah luvz cock." It felt absolutely liberating to say to say that out loud; he had never realized the terrible burden it had been in keeping that part of his being so deeply hidden and sequestered. Even from himself.

"Dat sesshun wiff da muscle-bruthas really set me straight…" He chuckled at his own pun.  The synthetic  flashbacks of all the young white men he had brutally raped and the massive, dieseled bruthas that had fucked him senseless in prison were so detailed and so vivid that he could hardly believe that they hadn't actually happened; plus… the non-stop action he had had tonight with the other officers just showed him how much he enjoyed rough-and-tumble man-on-man sex. His ebon horsedick swelled in painful pleasure within its steel prison and the dark fingers stroked the exposed flesh "Goddamn, dis feelz so nat'ral… b'cummin' a brutha IS like hittin' da lottery..."

An uncontrollable lust built within him. It was too much to bear seeing the powerful black man in the mirror fondling his nips and steel-shod junk. "I gotta get stuffed…" The thug loped back into the foyer and unzipped the backpack he had received from Zack to remove a massive dildo and a large jar of Hyperlube; he then moved into the kitchen. Cole moistened the suction cup at the bottom of the device and pressed it firmly onto a chair, slathering the massive ass-plug with the lube. He straddled the seat backwards, positioned his pucker over the head of the monstrous cock and quickly slammed himself down.

"GAHHHHH!!!!" The black man screamed in pleasure as the massive intruder tore into his guts. He lifted himself off and again impaled himself on the giant artificial penis. And again. And again. After several minutes of thrusting, he felt his balls churn and then a massive orgasm of agony and ecstasy shook him as thick loads of ropy cum exploded out thru the steel tube down his cock.

"Jeezus…whatta ride…" The black man was gulping air as he recuperated. He loved the feeling of being completely filled by the intruder; gradually realizing he was fully sitting down on the chair; he had swallowed the entire gigantic dildo - all eighteen inches - into his guts. A wide grin split his now-ethnic face.

"Dayummm…." He ground down on the monster within him and bolts of pleasure shot through his body. This continued for a good thirty minutes; finally, the Nubian pulled himself off of the plug and limped back into the bathroom to clean off. Following Zack's advice, he placed some Crest Whitestrips  onto his teeth and headed to bed.

* * *

The next morning, the freshly-minted black man again marveled at his new (and definitely improved) self in the mirror. Dark hands reached up and to feel his Converted nose, lips and hair. God, this is incredible. After stepping into a jock, the black man inserted his on-duty plug for the day. The plug - actually a butt-sphere - was a 3-inch solid steel ball with a short stem and a flat, wide button at the end. Pressing the globe into his guts was hard - at first - but once past the initial difficulty, the feeling of complete fullness was amazing. Cole then pulled on his biker leathers and grabbed his helmet as he closed the apartment door and headed down to the garage. Every movement created a constant buzz of pleasure as he mounted his bike and headed to the station.

The solid steel globe generated amazing sensations from the Kawasaki motor purring beneath him. Vibrations traveled up through the plug and into Ajani Cole's guts. Suddenly,  he felt his captive cock and balls churn and explode within the leathers on the way to the precinct.

Within an hour, the young black man arrived at the station house and was immediately greeted by several of the other Converted muscle-bruthas. Najeem rubbed his ass through the AlpineStars suit. "Dayumm - you look good enuf ta fuck!"

Cole sauntered over to his locker, unzipped his leathers and stripped. Catcalls and whistles filled the room as the other officers saw the silvery button of his butt-sphere. "Yeah, Ah needz sumpthin' up mah ass all da time - Ah hatez feelin' empty." Cole removed the sticky jock and silence descended as other officers saw the gleaming chastity device around his package. 

Donte gave him a puzzled look. "Why dat still on you, bro?"

"Rico said dat if'n Ah'm gonna be a better top, Ah gotta be a better bottom firs' …"

Benjie Cantrell gave a wicked laugh. "Well - git yo'self clean'd up an' lemme give you sum edumacation befo' roll call…"

After the shift had ended, a limping Ajani Cole sat down in front of a computer and brought up his NCIC profile. His dark eyebrows rose in surprise. It was one thing to have the memories of being a violent felon and rapist, but it was quite another seeing his face, prints and the online evidence of his criminal record listed for every LEO to see.

Digging further into his criminal computer records, the young felon saw his outstanding warrants as well. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach, but that was soon replaced with incredible feeling of exhilaration knowing that he could continue doing the things he was "convicted" for and having the police shield as the perfect cover. As long as I don't get caught.

"Shee-it…" The young Nubian rubbed his steel-enclosed cock - which was painfully semi-hard again within its prison. I wish I could breed. Unable to control himself any longer, the handsome felon got up to find some officer to fuck him senseless.


After roll call, AJ (as he was now referred to) approached Rico - "Hey Sarge, when you gonna unlock me?

"Why? Don'chu like getting' plowed? I hear you iz busy servicin' all the boyz as often as  you can - an' luvvin' it. An' don'  call me 'Sarge' - we ain't real copz no mo' .... mah name iz 'Rico' "

"Ah do, Sa- … Rico, but Ah gotta breed. Ah'm thinkin' ov all dem muscle-puppiez out d'ere dat need sum hardcore ass rapin' tah let d'em know d'ey iz a brutha's prop'ety.... jus' like Ah used to do."

The other black man grinned. "Dat's wat Ah want'd tah hear you say. C'mon." The two men entered Landry's office and he locked the door behind them.

"Strip." It wuz good t'see anotha successfull Nubian mindfuck take hold onna white boy...

Cole presented himself to the other gang-banger. He was naked save for a chest harness that pulled tightly across his slabbed pecs and highlighted the steel barbells in his nips. Rico took a key from around his neck and inserted it into the chastity device. The younger man hissed as Landry pulled the cage from around his manhood and the urethral tube left his aching cock.

"Stretch yo'self ovva the desk… " Landry peeled off his shirt to reveal his massively muscular torso criss-crossed with a leather harness as well; its strap running down his six-pack and into his uniform pants.  The dieseled felon pulled a bottle of lube from his top drawer and covered his arm with a thick, glistening coat, then proceeded to fist Cole to the elbow, and then to the shoulder. Ajani's horsecock was fully erect and leaking like a faucet as Rico continued invading his ass until he exploded. The larger man pulled out and utterly spent, the young black man slid off the desk and lay gasping on floor. Rico then tossed a pair of thick heavy c-rings that chimed on the hard surface next the young ex-con.

"Keep d'ose on yo' junk frum now on - Ah catch'chu wiffout 'em, you iz gettin' lock'd up till you iz white agin. Lemme know if'n you wants a cock-plug too. Ah'll send in Cash tah clean you up. An' see Benjie 'bout goin' to da Greasetank - now you iz reddy to breed, you gotta getz back in practice…"

As with his encounter with the quartet of Converted officers, Ajani Cole's experience at the Greasetank sex club was another mind-expanding event. He was thrilled to find a locale that could (and would) cater to his every darkest need; the first night he entered the S&M venue, he punishment fucked several young Latinos and chuckled as they screamed in pain and ecstasy as he violated them. He soon became a "regular" and alternated his appetites between that of a voracious Top and an insatiable Bottom. He was equally eager to rape willing (or unwilling) muscle-puppies as being locked into a sling or bound, gagged, manacled and then fucked and/or fisted by a parade of heavily inked leathermen and massive muscle-bruthas  - many of whom were not his fellow officers - Converted or not - from the precinct.

The Greasetank also served as a springboard for the young thug to participate in a variety of illicit activities. Thanks to the memories (and abilities) implanted within him, Ajani Cole soon found himself as the principal or as an accessory to many crimes - not only violent rape, but from robbery and burglary to assault and battery; he even found himself as part of a crew that killed several other thugs that had been skimming from various businesses of the club's owners. The deeper his participation, the stronger and more dominant his synthetic memories became; he also found out (the hard way) that Rico Landry demanded a cut - the Converted young ex-convict was ambushed by the older thug and woke to find himself naked, cuffed hand and foot, and standing precariously on a chair with a rope pulled tightly around his neck.
"Where da fuq iz mah money?"


The rope pulled tighter. "Ah didn' think you wuz dis fuckin' stoopid, 'Jani. Ah MADE you a brutha! Zack did da Process, but Ah made you who you iz!  If'n you makez money doin' shit like you wuz convict'd fo', Ah getz ten percent… o' you gonna be in Attica fast'r d'an you can punch-fuck a white-boy's ass!"

Ajani made strangling sounds as the rope tightened and his air was further reduced.

"… an' if'n Ah don', d'ey gonna find yo' dead black ass swingin' frum a lam'post… Unnerstand??"

"Augghh…yeah…glurrggg…Yessir… Ah unnerstand…"

"Good. Glad you getz wiff da program…" He loosened the rope until Cole's feet were firmly on the chair; Landry uncuffed him and helped him down. As he was gasping for air, a powerful dark hand shot out and gripped the young thug's throat.

"And you getz me mah money frum yo' part ov dat smash an' grab by t'morrow mo'ning at roll call…"  He threw the other man onto the floor and walked out.

AJ's heart was pounding in his chest as he rubbed his sore neck. It even hurt to swallow. My God… Rico really IS a gang-banger now… he's not'Jamie Reardon' the cop any more...

And that realization got him hard in a second.
About two weeks later, Ajani and Cash lay entwined on the black man's bed.  The two had collapsed after a marathon session of rough sex and Ajani's thick, steel-filled shaft was still embedded deeply within his partner's guts. Dark arms held his white partner close.

Ebon fingers toyed with Ingraham's pecs and  nips. "Ah luvz bein' wiff you."

Cash chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure that what you say to all the white cops you rape…"

"Nuh-uh. When Ah'm at da Greasetank, Ah cain let mah 'gressions loose an' punishment-fuck all dem muscle-puppies ta show 'em dey iz a black man's prop'ety. An' wiff da guyz at da stayshun, itz da way we showz we iz all bruthas - tho havin' sex wiff da Nubians is a real mindfuck - yo' haid knowz dey usez t'be white, but everythin' 'bout 'em tellz you dey nevva wuz.  But you iz speshul, Cash. Ah luv bein' wiff'chu - gettin' fuck'd by you o' fuckin' you jus' makes me happy - itz like we iz two puzzle pieces dat fit jus' right."

AJ was completely unaware as silent tears poured down Ingraham's face. "Cash? Do me a favor?"

Ingraham paused as he regained his composure. "Sure, AJ. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Wood you at leas' consider becummin' a brutha? Pleez? Ah know you'd luv it az much az me... itz incredible bein' a black man. An' bein' a crim'nal..." With that, Cole stretched a dark thigh over his partner's legs to draw them closer together. He slowly pumped his still-hard cock into his partner as he gently kissed his neck and stroked his chest; Cash groaned in pleasure as both men soon fell asleep.

* * *

"Sarge - can I talk to you?" Cash Ingraham knocked on the door to Rico Landry's office. The Nubian thug looked up with a scowl on his dark face; his brown-green eyes softened a bit and motioned Cash Ingraham into the room.

"Wat'chu want, Cash?"

Ingraham swallowed hard. "I… I want to join the Exchange Program, Sir."

Dark eyebrows arched and the gang-banger leaned back in his chair. "Wellll…. Dis IZ a su'prize… You wuz in sorry shape when you came to da Four-One; alwayz a good cop, but you wuz always so sad … Ah could see da diff'rence in you ovva d'ese pas' weekz, but Ah didn' see dis… AJ chang'd yo' mind??"

"I feel like a new person, Sir - and yes, AJ did ask me to think about it. It's been a long time since I've felt this away about anyone. After Jerry died,  I was just going thru the motions of living, but I felt like a ghost. I don't any more. I want to share everything with him - even being a black man."

Jerry Knudson had been Cash Ingraham's partner for several years, and the two had been lovers since their days at the Academy. Knudson had been shot on duty and had died in his partner's arms. Broken - both physically and mentally - Ingraham had given up living and transferred to the Four-One - hoping to become just one more COMPSTAT statistic for the high-risk precinct.  Ever so slowly, he began to put the pieces of his life together again; and while he did not actively put himself in harm's way any longer, there was a heartbreaking sadness about him that had made all of his partners request a transfer soon after their assignment. All except for Micah Benchley.

Landry removed a book from his desk and thumbed through it. "Hmm… looks like Zack got an openin' nex' Friday… why don' you give him a call and git yo' molds made afta shift?"

"Thanks, Sir - I really appreciate this." The patrolmen left the office and the bearded, dark face looked thoughtfully after him. Landry picked up the phone and dialed the transformation artist.

"Yo, Zack! Itz Rico. Ah gotz a uniform cummin' ovva t'you dis aftanoon fo' moldz." He gave the other man Ingraham's details. "Ah wantz you ta do sumpthin' speshful fo' him - he'z been troo a lot an' he d'servez it…"

* * *
As you've probably seen, I've been in somewhat a dry spell lately. Again. So when Cash and Micah decided to tell me their story, I decided to listen. The name of this arc - In For a Penny, In For a Pound is indicative more of Cash's reaction to his partner Micah's Transformation than Micah's conversion to a black man itself. By this time, you're (more than) familiar with the process and I wanted this story to be more about the two men, rather than the procedure itself. 

I see Cash and Micah as another of my very special pairings - Charlie and Matteo, Richard Borden, the 1940s gangster and Navy Commander Amery Mason, and of course former Inspector Iain Goddard and con-man Alec Renard - so I wanted to explore their relationship both before, during and after their Conversions. I do have some rather interesting plot twists in store during Cash's half of the story, so stay tuned!

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Photo Study #31: Breaking Bad (Or actually, quite good)

Ever since Evolution Masks came out with their "Chemist" - I've wanted  to purchase one. Badly.

And thanks to filing my taxes early, I did. At last.

For those of you unfamiliar with "The Chemist", the mask is a homage to Bryan Cranston's character "Heisenberg" on the series "Breaking Bad".

I tend to avoid monsters and "older age" masks, but I do have a few of each. I'm very particular when it comes to these two categories, and Jeffery Gardner's mask was something that definitely is worth owning. I do NOT have any "old fart" masks or zombies - those two types just strike the wrong chord with me.

First off, the design and paintjob on the mask is excellent. There is a dimensionality to the coloration that really makes it stand out. Earholes are well designed as well and very natural looking. I did find that the mask was slightly stiffer than than equivalent CFX, Realflesh or Studio135 masks, but not terribly so. There is no neck wrinkling at all.

Eye fitment is very good and very comfortable. The eyeholes almost go up to the lower lids; if I was to order this again, I would probably ask to have the eyeholes shrunk by about 1mm.

Lip fitment is a very good, but unique. In most other vendors, the lips try to "cup" around your own to provide the best fit. The "Chemist" lips tend to lay snugly on top of your own. Again, I can understand the reasoning behind this as Evolution is trying to provide the closest approximation to the Cranston character as possible vs. the best lip grip.

My one initial disappointment was the finish of the mask. Unlike almost all of my other masks (the exception being my classic SPFX Player), the Chemist was a semi-gloss finish versus the matte finish I have come to expect. However, the concerns vanished once I put it on, as the finish actually complemented the paintjob and made it appear more realistic, than less so.

The Chemist bib is on the small end of the spectrum. I've grown to appreciate the full and muscular coverage afforded by Realflesh and Studio135; the "Chemist" bib is even smaller than the CFX bib. With that said, however, I wouldn't expect a guy in this age group to be wearing a half-open shirt and flashing his pecs and washboard abs.

 Having this mask would not be complete without a few accessories in line with the TV series - the hat, the sunglasses and the regular glasses.

Glasses are available on Amazon:



The hat was a little harder to come by. The style is a "Porkpie", but it is extremely difficult to find the hat in an XL or XXL size. Remember, once you put on the mask, the circumference of your head gets a lot larger. I was able to find one at a reasonable price at  Village Hat Shop.

Crushable Wool Porkpie Fedora:

Overall, I'm extremely happy with the mask, and look forward to seeing what other masks Evolution will develop!