The Butterfly Effect #1: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Ordinarily, I normally put my notes and thoughts after the story I've just written. In this case, I felt I needed to explain a bit before you start reading. For those of you who are not aware of the term,  "The Butterfly Effect" boils down to a very small change in initial conditions creates a significantly different outcome. 

So the premise of this story is - what if Mateo's heartfelt plea did not have the effect it did on Charlie's decision to remain Rayshawn Johnson?


* * *


RAY-RAY
Saturday 9:32am

Last night, Mattie and I had harnessed and booted up, then proceeded to pull on some warmups to get into the Greasetank, a very hard-core leather S&M venue. I locked a leather hood on him before we entered (as the proprietors videotaped everything and were not above using blackmail on their clientele). While the DJ blasted Salt N' Pepa's "Push It" through the loudspeakers, I handlecuffed him with his hands behind his back and fucked him unmercifully as it was broadcast across the large-screen TVs throughout the converted warehouse.

I could feel him trembling as I rode him mercilessly while the dirt-trade leathermen hooted and jeered as he was violated over and over again. There was an overconfident muscle-brutha that wanted a piece of his ass as well, but one well-placed punch into the solar-plexus curled him retching onto the floor. Then I kicked him hard in the ribs. I grabbed him by his harness and shook him. "Dis slab o' Latino meat be mah prope'ty an' noboddy fuckz mah prope'ty 'cept ME wiffout per-missun! Unnerstand?!" Zack and I had established our dominance there as we had become frequent visitors with slaves in tow. This must have been a newcomer. Or an asshole. Or both.

* * *

The day after that incident I had off and Mattie had come back to my apartment after the long night. We were having breakfast and I finally voiced the decision that had solidified in my mind over these incredible weeks as an African male. I already had put on my steel jewelry and I was wearing a tight black tank, my yellow jock, fleece cutoffs and a pair of worn Timberlands. Beneath the cutoffs, I was ringed and plugged in both ends as well.

"Mattie? Ah don' thinkz ov mahself az a white man no mo' an' Ah ain't fo' weekz now... Ah don' wanna go back tah bein' 'Charlie Hawke'... an' dat ain't goin' t'happen. Ah'm stayin' dis way."

He looked shaken. "Have you talked to Sergeant Reardon about this?"

I shook my head. "Bein' a lowlife black muthafucka iz jus' such a life-changin' 'xperience, Mattie. Shee-it...itz a fant'sy cumm true! Ah luvz da gangsta lifestyle. An' Ah hav b'cumm a genu-wine gang-banger... Ah dunn thingz dat wood getz me arrested an' put away fo' life if'n Ah gotz caught - Ah LIKEZ doin' 'em an' Ah'm fuckin' GOOD at doin' 'em too. Ah knowz dat Zack cain make 'Rayshawn Johnson' an acktual nigga wiff an offishul crim'nal record. An' he tol' me he cain make mah transfo'mayshun perm'nent, too. Dat's wat Ah'm gonna hav him do wiff me - Ah'm goin' tah b'cumm a reel muscle-brutha... an' a felon... 'cause Ah knowz datz who Ah reely IZ now - not jus' summ noboddy whiteboy."

Mateo looked at me and unshed tears filled his eyes. "Charlie... Ray... I love you. I always will.  But you scare me the hell out of me now.  I fell in love with that sweet, raven-haired, blue-eyed cop named 'Charlie Hawke'. But you're not that man any longer. I want to see those sapphire eyes when I wake up in your arms. I want to run my fingers through that soft black hair again... I... I want my real boyfriend back."

My dark eyes hardened. "Well, Mattie, dat's jus' too fuckin' bad... 'Charlie Hawke' don' exis' no mo'. Dat whiteboy iz GONE. Fo'evva. D'ere's only ME, now - Rayshawn Johnson."

I grabbed my sunglasses and wallet and opened the door. "Ah'm goin' out. If'n you still iz here when Ah getz back, fine. An' if'n you don' wanna be wiff da lowlife nigga Ah iz now, den getz da hell out an' don' showz yo' face 'round here agin."

* * *

Once I got outside, I gave Zack a call.

"Yo, Zack, itz Ray."

There was a pause on the line. "Hey stud, what's up? Everything okay?"

"No... Yeah... ev'rythin's good now. Kin Ah cumm seez you? Ah gotta axe you summ thingz..."

"Yeah... sure... eleven o'clock okay?"

"Perfect. Seez ya den."

* * *
Zack buzzed me in and gave me a worried once-over. "You sounded strange on the phone, Ray. What's the matter?" As usual, he was half-naked, wearing just a pair of shorts, soccer shoes and a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Damn ... he's such a breedable whiteboy...just begging for a Nubian horsecock up that tight muscle-puppy ass...

"Mattie an' Ah broke up. Ah've chang'd ovva dese pas' weekz an' he cain't unnerstan' dat Ah'm a brutha fo' reel now. An' Ah don' feel da same way 'bout him no mo', neither. I shook my head. He cain't getz hiz fuckin' head 'round me stayin' black an' Ah cain't deal wiff dat shit."

"I'm sorry to hear that... I know you two were really close. How can I .... Wait a minute... you just said 'staying black' ?"

I nodded. "Uh-huh. Ah don' wanna go back tah bein' 'Charlie Hawke'. Ah cain't. Yo' Transfo'may-shun wuz so perfect dat Ah ain't a whiteboy no mo', Zack. Ah knowz now dat dis iz who Ah alwayz shooda been. You sed when you firs' chang'd me dat guyz stay'd dis way fo' a while, right?..."

I held him by his trim muscular waist and looked into his hazel eyes. "Cain you makez dis change perm'nent? Kin you makez me inta a brutha fo' good?"

There was a strange mixture of sadness and relief in his face. "Yeah, I can do it. It's not going to be painless, though. I have to take all the dye off of you first and let your body readjust to its regular state before we start. We're looking at least a four-week wait to be certain everything is back to normal. Is that okay with you?"

"Fine wiff me. But kin you makez me a FELON, too? Kin you makez 'Rayshawn Johnson' a genu-wine gangbangin' nigga wiff a reel hist'ry an' a reel crim'nal record?"

He look surprised. "You don't want to be a cop any more, either?"

I had thought about that as well. "Nuh-uh. Ah dunn summ terrible thingz an' Ah not only getz off doin' 'em, but Ah'm fuckin' good at doin' 'em, too. Ah stole a gun outta evidence an' Ah've dunn felonies off-duty dat gavez me da rush ov mah fuckin' life." I realized with a start that those were almost exactly Ben Van Sant's words to me when he put me in the ice-locks and had decided not to kill me.

"I can do that... I just never expected to hear that request coming from you."

I pulled Zack close to me and our crotches ground together. I grinned and gave him a kiss. "Mmm-hmmm ... Ah'm sure dat wuzn' sumpthin' runnin' troo yo' haid dat firs' time Ah bent'chu ovva an' raped yo' whiteboy ass az a black man..." 

He grinned back and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. "I can get some prep work done today before we remove the dye... Voice recordings, reference pics for the facial structure and tattoo placement and dental impressions..."

"Soundz like a plan..." I trailed a dark finger down the deep crevasse between his inked pecs and then slowly pushed his pants off of his hips. I pulled off my shirt and shucked off my own cutoffs and jock.

I was already hard as a rock knowing that in a short time, my life as an actual black criminal would begin. "...but befo' dat happenz Zack, lemme plow dat ass ov yo's one mo' time. Like you sed, itz gonna be a while befo' Ah'm da muscle-brutha Ah shood be agin..."

* * *
Mattie had left the apartment when I came home from Zack's; I was more relieved than I had thought - I didn't need any more of that weepy shit from him. The prep work hadn't been bad; he had explained that he'd be nicking my vocal cords to achieve my deeper voice and was going to do something to change my teeth so I couldn't be identified via dental records. He also was going to tattoo me as well; I wanted to keep the blackwork on my arms and traps, but I was tired of the mandala on my chest. Part of my homework was looking up some designs that I'd like to have and we'd see how doable they would be. I had one final call to make. I turned on my Galaxy IV and dialed Adrian Weaver.

"Yo, Adrian!!!"

"Hey bruh, wassup?"

"Ah'm gonna be away fo' a few weekz... Jus' want'd tah let you know dat. Umm, you talk tah Arkadiy??"

The slaver chuckled. "Uh-huh. He in compleet agreement. We cuttin' you in fo' fifteen percent on all da white meat you bringz in."

"Net o' gross?"

"Gross o' course. Shee-it, man, you think Ah'd cheat mah best fuck-buddy?"

I grinned. "Jus' checkin... Ah'll seez you soon, bruh... takez it easy."

* * * 

CHARLIE
Monday - 8:08am

I entered the locker room and a sudden silence blanketed the area. I felt every eye on me as I walked over to my locker and peeled off the masking tape that had had "Johnson" on it. It felt strange to see the name "Hawke" back on the door again. The nose plugs were gone, the dye was completely removed and there was even a bit of black stubble on my head already. My lips were still somewhat thick, but they'd be back to normal by Friday. My eyes were bright blue.

Tony McLaren came out of the showers and gave me a surprised look that transformed into an astonished smile. "R-Charlie???" Then I got a crushing hug and a deep kiss.

I grinned at the show of affection. "Yeah... I'm back." Temporarily.


* * *

CHARLIE
Six Weeks Later

I had been counting the days until I could begin my permanent transformation. Zack had already done a lot of the legwork for me; we had put together a personal history as well as my official 'criminal'  record. I told him about Brian Hogan and the deal I had made with Adrian Weaver. Other than a raised eyebrow, he didn't seem much surprised. 'It's great to do something you love...' was all I got from that revelation.

He had also gotten me a different apartment under the name of 'Rayshawn Johnson' and set me up with bank accounts and credit cards. He was going to take care of draining my assets - the little that I had - and laundering them into their new locations as well. After this transformation, he'd take pictures and I'd be getting new photo ID with Ray's information on them as opposed to Charlie's. He'd update all the needed electronic records too. Including the NIBRS, CIC and other criminal databases.

At the four-week mark, I had gotten a full facial casting. This was going to be the basis for permanently transforming me into the black criminal I was going to become. I also took hand molds as well for my new fingerprints.

I shut the door to my apartment for the final time. I'd never be seeing this place again. I headed out of the building and made my way to the warehouse.

* * *
When I got there, Zack and an Asian guy were present. Both of them were in nothing but shorts and sneakers. The Asian guy was slender, but very well-muscled and gave me a bright smile.

"Charlie, this is my buddy EJ. He's going to help out with some of the work that we're going to do. He's a hypnotherapist. Your new history has to be a solid part of you, and he's going to make sure that will happen without any slip ups. He's a great tattoo artist as well."

"Hi Charlie... or should I call you 'Ray' ?" The Asian shook my hand. He had the most incredible sugar-brown eyes I had ever seen.

"Charlie, for now. I'm not back to being Ray just yet."

"EJ's going to put you under. You ready?"

I'd never been so ready in my life. "Uh-huh." I smiled at the Asian. "Let's do it!"

EJ grinned. "Take a look at my watch, bud. You like it?"

I did. It was some high-end brand with a steel-and-titanium bracelet. It had a sort of semi-open face and I could see the gears and movement inside. The overhead lighting made the gears and whatnot scintillate in a soothing rhythm.

"It'll be my present to you when you're finished here. How are you feeling?"

My eyes blinked. "Good."

ZACK
10:15am

"That's great. Go to sleep." Charlie's  head dropped to his chest.

EJ stroked a muscular arm. "OK Charlie, I want you to remember two words for me. It's a very odd pair. The words are 'Chesapeep-Boomerang'. These words are very special, because they are going to make you react and respond in certain ways. You with me so far?"

The policeman muttered. "Uh-huh..."

"Awesome. When you hear those special words, you will never respond to the name you were born with ever again or sign it on any piece of paper or check or anything else. The only name you will respond to is 'Rayshawn Johnson' or any of its variations. The only official and legal signature you will ever write will be 'Rayshawn Johnson' or any of it's variations as well."

EJ continued. "While you will continue to think and comprehend at the level you currently possess,  you will only be able to speak at about a ninth-grade level with ghetto diction and will tend to use much more explicit language interspersed in your speech. Now, I want you to open your eyes and look at me."

Charlie apparently woke up. EJ held the extensive personal history and criminal record we had  developed together over the past six weeks.

"These are the details of your new life. You are going to read and remember every detail that is written there. All of this information contained in these papers refers to YOU. While you will recall details about the life of 'Charlie Hawke' and retain all his capabilities and knowledge, the specific information will be like second-hand data of another person. Because 'Charlie Hawke' IS another person. 'Charlie Hawke' is not YOU. 'Charlie Hawke' will no longer physically exist.

Any sexual relationships you had while you were previously 'Charlie Hawke' you will remember as being with your new self of 'Rayshawn Johnson', however. After you finish reading through the pages, you will fall asleep again until I tap your hand three times. At that point, you will awake and will forget that I have given you these instructions. You will also forget that I hypnotized you - you will only remember that I'm here to help out Zack with your Conversion. 

You will never be able to speak about the process you went through in becoming a black man to anyone except myself and Zack. When you hear me speak the special words, all of these directives will take effect. Lastly, these directives are permanent - they cannot be altered, removed or in any way rescinded by anyone...  even me. EVER. Do you agree to all of this Charlie?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I do."

EJ handed him the documentation and the patrolman started to read. A lot of the particulars about his criminal past he had gathered from various rap sheets. In his own words, he would be one "nasty lowlife sonofabitch" and I was somewhat surprised at the felonies he had been "convicted" of. After the second read-through of the substantial stack of papers, he once again dozed off.

EJ tapped his hand three times and Charlie quickly was awake again.

"You still want to be completely smooth on top, right, Charlie? After I shave you, I'm going to use a combination remover/follicle killer on so you'll never have to shave again."

He nodded and stripped naked.

"Can you do it on my cock and balls as well? I like the look and feel of being smooth and it'd be great not to have to bother waxing my junk too."

"Not a problem."

I quickly buzzed the hair off his head, pits and crotch and followed it up with shaving cream and razor. Then I put on the hair remover. I twisted a kitchen timer to thirty minutes. "OK bud, once this rings, go in and take a shower. Then we'll start up with changing your features."

* * *

Charlie emerged from the shower and came back into the main area. His head was shiny smooth, and his substantial package looked even larger without any obscuring hair.

"The next step is going to be remolding your features into Ray-Ray's without using the plugs or any of the thickening injections." I flipped on a computer screen and the black thug's face rotated on the monitor. I grinned. "I've made some further enhancements so you'll be an even sexier-looking black man than before."

"How are you going to do that? Plastic surgery?" He looked a little concerned.

"Nope. I've developed a compound that creates something called "molecular plasticity" - it changes the way solid matter behaves for a very short time. Everything acts like it's made of clay. I'm going to clamp a mold on your face and when I take it off, you'll look like Ray-Ray permanently."

I showed him the mold. It was composed of two halves with several twist-clamps on the corners and edges. There were two smaller molds for his hands as well. I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened up a container of the compound; it had the consistency of a thick gel. Then I spread in all over his face and neck. As the compound was absorbed, Charlie's skin took on a more waxy appearance and cadaverous hue.

EJ put the back part of the mold on the table. "OK, hop onto the table and lay your head in the mold. I'm going to put some tubes up your nose to reshape your nostrils and so you can breathe. Then I'll put the front section over your face. Zack and I will tighten and clamp the mold together. You're going to feel a some pressure, but that'll be about it. The process will take about ten to twenty minutes. We'll be right here with you, so don't panic."

Charlie clambered up onto the table and laid his head into the back section. "Hey, it's soft!"

"Nope, it's made of fiberglass and plaster. It's your head that's soft now." I stared down at the mannequin-like face looking back at me and inserted the soft tubes in his nose then threaded them through the openings in the front section. "Here we go. Just relax, close your eyes, and breathe deeply."

I placed the front portion of the mold over his face and EJ started to twist the clamps shut. I held Charlie's hand as it was happening and he gripped it tightly. After twenty minutes, when we unscrewed the clamps and removed the front section; a new man looked back at us and sat up.

Charlie's skin had returned to it's normal healthy color, but the features were now those of 'Rayshawn Johnson'. Compared to the original version of the black gang-banger, his ears were slightly smaller than before; his cheekbones were a bit less prominent and his nose was a tiny bit flatter and broader as well. His eyes had a slightly more almond-shape and his lips had once again thickened to a sensual new fullness, dominating his whole lower face. Everyone would recognize him as Ray-Ray, but now he was more ethnically Nubian than before.

"How do Ah look?" Charlie (now a lightly tanned version of Ray) had re-developed the drawl from his altered features. He felt his face and grinned as his fingers once more found the meatier lips and wider, flatter nose.

"You look even hotter than before!!!" EJ exclaimed.

* * *

We followed the same process for his fingerprints. After I wiped the compound onto the palms of his hands and fingertips, we placed them in the molds and cranked them tight. In a few minutes, Charlie's fingerprints had been obliterated and replaced with the those of the felon he was soon to officially become.

Skin pigmentation came next. Again I did the spaces between his toes and his pucker by hand. His nose wrinkled at the strong odor of the dye I was using. He made a face. "Yeah, it stinks. This one needs four coats and then an activation coat to make it permanent. Sorry about that."

Next stop was the spray booth, Ray got onto the platform, and after the five applications, the oversexed black stud that I had created emerged once more. For good this time. While I was putting the finishing touches on the soles of his feet, his dark hands toyed with his darker nips and he massaged his thick shaft and mushroom head. "God-dayyum, it feelz so fuckin' right tah be a black man agin... jus' like Ah shood be..."

 "Lean your head back, Ray. You need some eyedrops." EJ pulled the lower lids down and put two drops into each eye.

"SHEE-IT!!! Dat stuff burnz!" Ray tried to rub his eyes, but I grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his face. I handed him a tissue.  

"This stuff is an eye dye. Keep your eyes closed and count to sixty. After five applications, your eyes will be permanently as dark as they were with the contacts. They need to go in every fifteen minutes."

The mild pain served to soften his massive erection, so I handed him a pair of thick stainless steel c-rings to place over his horsecock and heavy sac. He gratefully slipped them on and grinned. "T'anks, Zack. D'ese make me feel even mo' like Ray-Ray."

Before we started on his tattoos, EJ and I needed a break. My stomach growled and EJ grinned.

"You hungry, Ray?"

The black man smiled as well. "Starvin'. Ah didn' eat nothin' dis mornin' befo' Ah came ovva." Ray's eyes had already started to change. His bright blue orbs were gone; they were now a muddy green.

* * *

Before dessert, I put another set of drops into Ray's eyes. In a few minutes, his irises had darkened once more. They were now a light whiskey brown. That color looked great on him, but we needed to maintain the consistency of his appearance and go all the way to the intense almost-black he had had before when wearing the contacts.

After the meal, Ray stroked his ringed horsecock into a massive erection and gave the two of us a wicked leer. The steel cockrings served only to make his already-large and hairless endowment look even more massive.  

"You know, guyz... Ah'm still hungry. D'ere's summ appetites dat ain't satisfied yet..."

He reached over and stroked EJ's face, then gave him a soft kiss. "You up fo' summ fun wiff a muscle-brutha, China-boy?"

EJ stroked the black cock in front of him and licked his lips. "I thought you'd never ask..."

* * *

EJ
1:15pm


Ray and I went into the workroom and he wasted no time in pulling my shorts down around my feet. He stroked my shoulders and then his thick lips trailed softly across my jaw and neck. I kissed him hard and he returned the embrace with equal fervor. I pulled off my jock and they joined my shorts on the floor. My cock was hard and leaking as his dark hand trailed fingers around the shaft.

"Hmmm... Ah don' think you kin finish yo' work bein' so distracted like dis, EJ. Looks like dat tool ov yo's needz summ attenshun..."

The black man knelt in front of me and started licking my cock. His hands held my hips and his teeth gently scraped my dick as he laved the swollen head like an ice cream cone. Once I was thoroughly wet with his saliva, he swallowed my seven-plus inches whole and started a rhythm that had me trembling with lust. Faster and faster he worked my tool in and out of his mouth until I felt my nuts churn and I poured a load of cum down his throat. Just like an earthquake, I had several aftershocks from his ministrations and he managed to suck me dry. I was literally trembling by the time he finished with me.

After he licked a bit of residue from the corner of his mouth, he stood up and turned me around. Ray pushed me flat across a workbench.

"Hold on, China-boy..." He kissed the back of my neck as he grabbed a bottle of lube and rubbed a generous amount on my pucker. I jumped as a rough finger entered me and rubbed an additional amount of the Gun-Oil up my chute.

"Mmm... mmm... mmm... dat Asian muscle butt ov yo's looks soooo good tah me... jus' beggin' t'be fill'd up wiff a brutha's meat..." He grabbed hold of my waist again, as he pushed his thick cock into my ass.

God, it HURT. Ray was HUGE and I wasn't used to taking such massive dicks up my tunnel. I would have really been in trouble if he wasn't being so gentle with me. Bit by bit, his thick shaft bored into my intestines until I felt his sac bump against my cheeks.

"Ahhhh.... you're so TIGHT, EJ. Feels like Ah've gotz a glove 'round mah cock." He kissed my neck and shoulders again as he pulled out and then began pistoning in and out of me like a jackhammer. The initial pain was soon replaced by an immense feeling of pleasure as his thick, black meat split me open. I felt him speed up and he threw back his head and yelled as he filled my guts with his seed.

Spent, he laid on top of me with his cock still embedded in my ass. He reached out his arms and covered my hands that had been gripping the corners of the worktable with his own. He continued kissing my neck and ear as he continued to gently grind his hips against my asscheeks.

A pink tongue licked the whorls of my ear. "You liked dat, EJ?" He whispered. "D'ere'll be plenty mo' o' dat once we iz all done..."

* * *

ZACK
1:45pm

I noticed EJ walking with a slight limp after he and Ray had finished with each other. Both of them wore wide grins on their faces as I put in another set of drops into the black thug's eyes.

Tattoos were next on the agenda. I placed the stencil paper onto his arms and transferred the designs onto his dark flesh. We were replacing my drawn-on ink that had been on his arms and neck with actual blackwork, and Ray and I had decided that a tribal spider across his chest looked best with the other body art. EJ and I were above-average tattoo artists as well, so we each worked on an arm and trap. In a short while, the outlines were complete.

"Your eyes are now a medium-dark brown, Ray. One more application and we'll be done."

"Good tah hear, whiteboy..." he grinned as I flattened the stencil paper across his slabbed pecs. The template was transferred onto his chest and the two of us began inking in the final outline.

* * *

Once the edgings were done, it was time for another break. Our hands were stiff from the detail work and we needed to relax them a bit. I put the final set of drops in Ray's eyes.

"Lucky you don't have any cavities. All we need to change are your bite surfaces. Go into the bathroom and brush your teeth thoroughly and then rinse out with mouthwash."

The black man hopped off the table and padded into the bathroom. I hungrily watched the muscular chocolate-colored mounds of his ass move as he walked away from me. Lord, I couldn't wait to feel that gigantic black horsecock up my ass again.

Once he got back, I used a small applicator to apply the plasticity compound to his teeth. For this application, I didn't wait for the change to take effect completely. I had Ray put the dental molds into his mouth soon after. Then I had him bite down hard onto the molds.

Only a few more steps left. When I removed the molds, Charlie's teeth - like his fingerprints - had been replaced by those associated with the convicted street punk. Ray's eyes were now permanently a dark brown-black - the same color as they had been with the contacts.

RAY-RAY
3:00pm

Zack handed me a mirror and I grinned in triumph. 'Rayshawn Johnson' - the new, improved and permanent  version - smiled back at me. This time, there were no prosthetics or lenses that were changing the way I looked - a REAL black man - and a vicious, convicted criminal - was staring back at me with dark, brown-black eyes; my inner identity as a lowlife ghetto rat now matched the outer appearance. This was who I was always meant to be. After the permanent dye job, I had put the CZ studs back in my ears as well as my other steel jewelry; the studs glittered in the light as I admired my muscle-brutha reflection in the silvery surface.

"God dayummn... dis iz so perfect... Ah don' knowz how tah thank you guyz fo' doin' dis fo' me..."

Zack's face took on a more serious set. "We're not done yet Ray. We've still got to fill in the tats, but the final two steps are going to be uncomfortable... really uncomfortable."

I turned to him with a quizzical look on my face.

"One, after I put the deepening spray in your throat again, I'm going to have to put you under while I score your vocal cords to maintain the deeper voice. You're going to have a nasty sore throat for a few days...."

"Ah kin live wiff dat... Wat's da otha thing?"

"As a cop, your DNA map is present throughout a number of law enforcement databases across the globe. The final step is going to blur your DNA so if it ever gets sampled or collected, you're going to register as a black man... and someone who can never be connected back to 'Charlie Hawke'. You'll get infected with a limited function retrovirus whose sole purpose is to alter your genetic code like I said. You're going to feel like you've got the worse case of flu for about a week. Maybe a little more. Then that new info needs to be inserted back into the same databases - but this time, as a felon."

Ray now looked frightened. EJ spoke up. "You're staying here with Zack and me until everything is completed... the retrovirus gives you fever, body aches, muscle soreness, sensitivity to light... that's because it's rewriting the code in every one of your cells. But once that's done, you actually feel even better than before."

"How you know 'bout dat, EJ?"

EJ gave me a wry grin. "You don't actually think I was born Asian, do you?"

My mouth dropped open.

"You looked shocked, Ray. Did you think Zack had this process limited to just changing white guys into black thugs?"

I shook my head and chuckled. "Ah did, but Ah wuzn' thinkin'... Wow... dat makez dis transfo'mayshun even mo' amazin'..."

Zack rubbed his hands together. "Okay, let's finish up the tats. After that, what do you want to do first, the voice or the DNA?"

I thought about it. "Let's do da voice first. Dat way, when Ah'm dunn feelin' like shit, Ah'll be reddy tah start off fresh az a gen-u-wine lowlife muscle-brutha an' a felon."

* * *
ZACK
6:42pm

I had sprayed the mist down Ray's throat to deepen his voice and then EJ and I went back to work on filling in his tribals. Finally, we were done. I grinned over the slabbed ebon chest at EJ. These looked even better than before."OK, stud - we're done for tonight. Ink's complete. You are one incredibly HOT black mutherfucker."

"T'anks, muscle-boy." His dark eyebrows lifted in pleasure and he grinned at the now deeper timbre of his voice. He pushed himself into a sitting position and winced. "Dayumm... Ah'm sore."

EJ chuckled. "You've been through a lot today. Just think, you walked in here this morning a white policeman... and now you're a hung, black gang-banger covered in ink - you've been under the needle for about four hours now. Want to see your new tats?"

" 'Course Ah do!" He pushed himself off the table and loped over to the full length mirror.

"Jeezus Christ..." He was speechless as he took in the total transformation that EJ and I had wrought. He had seen this performed on him before, but this time, it had been his choice and he had chosen to make it last forever.

I found I was holding my breath as well. A brutally handsome and dangerous-looking bald Nubian admired himself in the mirror. A wicked smirk twisted his lips as his almost-black eyes slowly traveled down his powerfully built deep-brown body. The steel jewelry at his wrists and on his fingers glinted in the room's lighting, providing a counterpoint to the gleaming steel rings around his massive package. Dark fingers traveled over the new ink on his massive arms and stroked the bold tribal spider that was now a permanent part of him. He did a front double biceps and grinned as the muscles of his arms and chest burst into obscene definition. The tattoos only served to complement the incredible muscularity of the black thug and he whistled in appreciation.

EJ looked at me and gave a small nod. "You like what you see, Ray?"

"Oh, FUCK yeah... Ah lookz amazin'... Ah'm a muscle-brutha fo' reel now... now an' fo'ever... Dayummm..." He turned around and twisted to admire the dark V-shaped perfection of his back and ass in the mirror. He massaged his thick horsecock with the double-steel rings and watched in pleasure as it grew longer and thicker.

"That you do... you look absolutely 'chesapeep-boomerang'..."

The black man stiffened for a second and then continued his posing routine in the mirror.

"Charlie, you feel like getting a screw-plug up your ass tonight?" The black man didn't respond.

I walked over to him and rubbed his muscular glutes. "Charlie, I said, do you want a screw-plug up your chute tonight?"

He gave me an annoyed look. "Why da fuq you callin' me Charlie? Mah name ain't Charlie. Itz Ray..."

He stopped dead and his dark eyes widened. "FUUUCK!!"

"When's your birthday, Ray?"

"March 18th" He continued to look amazed as the information came out of him without thought.

"You've got a rather extensive and violent criminal record... what was your first conviction for?"

"Rape. Sheee-it..." He was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Who was it?"

"Summ little Latino named Juan Gonsalves... he want'd me tah plow hiz ass, but den he ran cryin' tah da copz." He continued to grin and shake his head in amazement. 

"And who was the judge that sentenced you?" EJ joined in. 

"Fucker's name wuz Eric Baxter."

"What's your social security number?"

"172..." He paused. "Shee-it...Ah nevva r'member da rest. Ah alwayz gotz t'look at da card..."

"What's your Department of Corrections ID?"

"98P284... dis iz fuckin' amazin' !!!" He proceeded to tell us about his first arrest and how he was picked out in a lineup. Then sentenced and put in jail.

"Who's your partner at the 41st precinct?"

"Partner? Ah ain't no cop." A brief look of sadness crossed his face.

"Who was Charlie Hawke's partner at the 41st precinct?"

"Tony McClaren. He luvz havin' ruff backalley sex wiff a brutha... luvz gettin' fist'd, too..."

"Who's Charlie Hawke?"

"He wuz summ whiteboy cop. Good lookin' fucker. Busted mah ass couple ov times..."

Ray was so happy he was literally bouncing on his naked feet. "Jee-zus Fuckin' Christ - Ah cain't b'lieve it! FUCK! Ah'm Ray-Ray Johnson! Ah'm ME !"

I gathered him into my arms and gave him a deep kiss, which he returned with even greater enthusiasm. His tongue slipped into my mouth and started down my throat. We broke off when we finally needed to get air.

"Welcome back, Ray... Welcome back!" God, how I missed this insatiable black gorilla...

EJ cleared his throat. "Ummm.... I'll leave you two for tonight... when would you like me here tomorrow Zack?"

Ray had moved behind me and pulled me into his embrace. His thick lips were kissing my neck as his massive tool was pressed demandingly against my ass. His dark hands were stroking my body and my cock was painfully erect in the tight shorts.

"I'll see you around 9 o'clock... Thanks for all the help today EJ. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, t'anks, bruh..." Ray was concentrating on rubbing his cock against me. His voice lowered. "Letz go upstairz, Ah wantz t'fuck dat muscle-puppy ass ov yo's soooo bad right now... den slide mah fist up dat sweet butt afta Ah gotz it all lubed an' reddy..."

I grabbed his hand and we bounded up the stairs to my bedroom.

* * *

TANNER
8:30am

“Why did  you wait two goddamned DAYS before you came to me?” I glared at Reardon and McLaren as they shifted uneasily as I paced between my desk and the window.

“Charlie had asked for eight days off, Cap. Said he was taking a trip with Mateo. The rosters got screwed up so we didn’t find out until roll call this morning. He’s disappeared. Tony went to his apartment and found his wallet, keys, phone, badge and Glock on the table. The door wasn’t even locked.”

Something about this situation had me unnerved. I didn’t have my twin brother’s precognitive Talents, but the growing pit in my stomach told me something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“Did Hawke say or do anything out of the ordinary before he left last week?”

Reardon shook his head. “No, Cap. Completely normal since Charlie walked back into the precinct six weeks ago. Everyone got used to Ray and his appetites, and they missed having him around for the rough sex -  but no problems, otherwise.”

A troubled look crossed the young patrolman’s face. “Sir… Ray – uh, Charlie… and me had gotten together about eight weeks ago… for, well, you know…” His face was turning red. “But back then he had said that he didn’t think of himself as a white guy any more and he wanted to stay a black gang-banger…”

The sergeant whirled on McLaren. A right cross crumpled the man to the floor.

“You STUPID fucking bastard! Why didn’t you TELL me he said that?!!”

“S-Sarge… he came back to the precinct as a white guy! I thought it was just some crazy idea in his head that he got over…”

Reardon looked ready to kill. I got up from my desk. “I’m going to see Mateo. See if he has any information about Hawke’s whereabouts. You check out Zack. Call me on my cell as soon as you hear anything. I’ll do the same.”

* * *

JAMIE
10:02am

I arrived at Zack’s warehouse in Brooklyn and pounded on the metal door. “ZACK! LET ME IN, GODDAMMIT!” I glared up at the CCTV camera in the corner. I heard the familiar click-buzz and headed inside.

He was waiting for me at the inner portal with a somber look on his face. As usual, he was dressed in only a tight pair of rower shorts and soccer shoes.

“Where the fuck is Charlie?”

He gave a sigh. “Ray is out in back, Jamie. Charlie… Charlie is gone.”

I slammed him against the wall. “You get Charlie back in here and into your mad scientist’s laboratory and you change him back… NOW!”

Zack flinched but didn’t fight back. He shook his head. “I CAN'T. I used the plasticity compound on him and then he destroyed the original castings for his face, teeth and prints. The inkwork is real this time. The skintone and eye color changes are permanent now and his DNA has been blurred to register as a genuine black man.”

He saw the horror and despair in my eyes.

“I knew he’d be back for this the first time he saw himself Transformed. You did too. You just couldn’t admit the inevitability of it to yourself, either. He wanted this more than anything, Jamie. He’s become the man you make him – an over-sexed, overconfident black gym-rat with a rap sheet as long as your arm.”

I drove my fist into his solar plexus and he crumpled gasping onto the concrete floor. I strode past him and headed out back.

* * *

I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached the walled-in patio in the rear of the warehouse. A powerfully muscled black man was lying face down on a lounger. His bald head and his dark chocolate skin gleamed with a fine sheen of oil. He was naked save for the blackwork tattoos crawling down his arms and gleaming steel jewelry on his fingers and wrists. The large CZ studs were once again twinkling in his ears.

He lifted his head and gave me a wide, white grin and pushed himself onto his elbows.

“Fuuuck... an' here Ah wuz jus' thinkin' 'bout needin' summ thick, heavvy NYPD meat up mah ass…”

He stood up and sauntered over to me. I could see the subtle enhancements Zack had made to his features only served to make him more sexually attractive. He was completely hairless and also sported a large tribal spider on his chest which increased the absolutely carnal nature of the black man in front of me. He had two heavy stainless steel c-rings about his ebon horsecock and balls, and that monster prong was rapidly swelling larger and larger.

“Oh, Charlie… oh dear God…” I couldn’t help it; my dick started to harden and slither down my uniform pants. I reached out to stroke his face as tears ran down my own.

“Nuh-uh... Ain’t no 'Charlie' here, Sergeant. Jus’ me. Ray-Ray Johnson. Da convict'd felon. You check out NIBRS o' NCIC o' any ov dem crim'nal databases. You gonna find me in d'ere, scowlin’ right back at 'chu.”

His deep, rough voice was like an aphrodisiac. He reached out to rub my tool through the fabric of my trousers. “Lookz like we bowff be reel horny at da moment… why don’ you suck me off an' den you kin fuck mah ass as much as you want? Sound good?”

Ray’s thick lips found mine and gave them a soft kiss. He proceeded to nuzzle my jaw and neck and then began to unfasten my duty belt. In a moment, it dropped to the ground. My pants belt followed and then he unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off my torso. Dark hands stroked my shoulders and pecs. My heart was hammering in my chest as blind, insensate lust flooded every cell of my body.

“Mmmm…. You iz one HOT cop, Sergeant… now... suck mah dick.” He pushed me to my knees and I took his massive cock into my mouth and down my gullet.

* * *

The thug grunted heavily as he pistoned down my throat and then I felt his thick mushroom head swell as he unloaded a torrent of cum into me. Once he was done emptying his seed, he pulled out and stretched himself over the redwood picnic table. His smooth, dark pucker gave me a salacious wink. Ray looked over his shoulder at me as I struggled to my feet.

“Well, wat 'chu waitin' fo' ?”  I didn’t need any further encouragement; I could barely think of anything except fucking his ass. I fell back on the ground and unlaced my boots. Socks followed, then I shucked my pants off. In a moment I was as naked as he. I grabbed the bottle of suntan oil that was lying next to the lounger and poured a large amount onto my cock. Another considerable  portion was spread onto the waiting dark rosebud. I grabbed the black hips and rammed myself in.

“YEAHHH!!!” Ray bellowed as I breached him. “Fuck mah ass good, Sarge! Fuck me till Ah screamz!”

Despite the situation, I had to satiate myself inside the gang member’s dark passage. “You missed getting plowed by cops, didn’t you Ray?” I growled. With every inward thrust, I made sure I got all of my nine inches up his chute.

“Uhhhhh…. Shitchyeah! Ain't nuthin' like thick, muscle-cop meat up mah ass!” I felt my nuts churning and I unloaded an equally prodigious explosion of cum up his dark passage. I pulled out and sat, gulping air back into my lungs.

I was still hard when Ray-Ray straddled me and pushed himself back onto my aching prong. He held my head in his dark hands. “Ah’m gonna miss gettin' pounded like dat all da time… no one fuckz like a muscle-cop... Ah guess you iz gonna need tah keep haulin' me in on suspicion ov sumpthin'…” Then he crushed his lips to mine.

* * *

I owed Zack an apology, but I couldn’t face him right now. I couldn’t even face myself. Ray had gone back into the warehouse and once I pulled my uniform back on, I returned via the rear entrance to my patrol car. I sat there for a while, with tears streaming down my cheeks and sobs wracking my body.

Charlie was dead to the world and I did it. I killed him. My fucking arrogance and lust had destroyed one of the best rookie cops I had ever known. And I created a monster in his place.

I couldn’t even control myself now. One look at the naked black stud and my brain short-circuited; I wanted nothing more than to rape his ass again and again. Or suck his dick. Or have my fist up his chute. Or his up mine.

I didn’t know what he was going to get involved in, but I knew he wasn't returning to the Department. I hoped that we wouldn’t all be paying dearly for that. My cell rang. It took a moment for my eyes to unblur and see who was calling. It was Captain Morgan. I picked it up.

“What did you find out from Zack?” Cap’s voice was tight.

I sniffed back tears. “Not good news, Sir…”

“Reardon? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“He’s gone, Sir… Charlie’s... just… gone…” I started crying again.

“Reardon!! REARDON!! Control yourself!!! Tell me what happened!”

I repeated what Zack had told me about the process. Cap was quiet. I didn’t tell him what Ray and I had just done together. That seemed to be the ultimate betrayal to Charlie and the NYPD.

“You’re in no shape to come back to the precinct right now. We have to contain this. Come by my apartment tonight after six.”

* * *
TANNER
9:15am

I arrived at the Kriatos building and was soon ushered in to Mateo Castillion's office. He was sitting at his desk and gave me a quick glance and then returned to his phone call. He held up a hand to indicate he would be with me shortly.

The call finished, Charlie's lover turned to me with a look of grim determination.

"I should tell you Captain, that Charlie and I broke up about two months ago. Is there something you need from me?"

I was at a loss for words. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry, Mateo - truly I am. Charlie has disappeared and Sergeant Reardon and I were hoping you might have some information that could help us. He had asked for eight days off to be on a trip with you."

Mateo gave a bitter laugh. "Reardon? Skatofatsa! That bastard was the one that broke us up, Captain. Him and his 'Initiation'. I came back to find a different man than the one I loved. He had become an animal - vicious, cruel and completely immoral."

Castilion's steel composure began to crack. "After we had come home from a dirt-trade sex club, he said to me that he hadn't thought of himself as a white man for weeks; he couldn't bear the thought of becoming 'Charlie Hawke' again and was going to stay a black thug. He said that Zack could effect the change permanently and make his 'Rayshawn Johnson' a real person with an authentic criminal record."

"He said that to you?" I was aghast and sickened by what I was hearing.

Tears filled his eyes. He nodded. "He said that if I couldn't accept being with a ghetto criminal, I could leave. And I did. I had to. It wasn't that he had become a black man - that in itself was an amazing turn-on, Captain - but he wasn't my Charlie any more. He had become a brutal, violent bastard and I blame your sergeant and Zack for that. They literally killed him and put that... thirío (creature, ed.)... in his place."

I knew first-hand about the magnetism that Ray exuded. I had been unable to contain myself regarding his overconfident sexuality as well. I heard enough. We stood up. Reardon had a good deal to answer for. "I'll keep you informed about anything we find out, Mateo. Again, I'm so sorry about you and Charlie. You two seemed perfect together."

That last phrase shattered what little self-control he had left. Tears poured down his face and I reached out to hold him. Sobbing, Mateo held me like a drowning man clutches a piece of driftwood. I saw that last conversation between them through his eyes and my heart broke for the anguish the young man in my arms had suffered.

We embraced each other for a while. Finally, his weeping slowed and then stopped.  "We'll do everything we can to get Charlie back, Mateo. I promise." 

"Thank you, Captain. Thank you..."

I left his office and pulled out my phone to call Jamie Reardon.

* * *

ZACK
10:32 am

Ray had come back into the warehouse as I was recuperating from Jamie's gut punch.

"Zack? You 'kay?" His dark face creased in concern.

I winced. "Yeah. Jamie wasn't too happy with finding you here and not Charlie. He decked me."

He smirked. "Hmmpph... He seem'd happy 'nuff tah suck mah dick an' den fuck mah ass..."

I chuckled at my creation. "You are one insatiable black bastard, Ray..." Then I winced again as I tried to stand. "Shit."

I traveled by wall until I got to my desk. "Got some stuff here for you." I handed him a folder.

"That's the lease on your new apartment and the articles of incorporation for the Striker Gym. You're listed as the owner. It's one of Uncle Sal's businesses. You'll draw a nice salary and then some."

I winked. "He'll take care of all the day-to-day paperwork as well."

I got a big toothy smile. "Shee-it... T'anks Zack. Ah don' knowz wat tah say..."

"It's a great way for you to find fresh meat as well for your... activities with Adrian." I smiled. "Uncle Sal gets five percent of your cut. I think that's a fair arrangement."

"Awww, whiteboy... you alwayz iz lookin' out fo' me..." Ray's dark hands slipped into my shorts and massaged my ass. He started to kiss my neck and I felt my cock thicken and twitch. The head of my dick then popped out of the leg of my rowers.

The black thug laughed. "You up fo' summ deep-dickin' yo' ass befo' Ah checkz out mah new place?"

I nodded. We headed up the stairs.

* * *
RAY
Three Months Later

"C'mon Dawz! Two mo'! Jus' two mo'!"

The man struggled to push the dumbbells over his head and finally managed to have them meet and then brought them back to shoulder level. His arms were vibrating with fatigue and effort.

"One mo' whiteboy! C'mon! DO IT!"

The young stud grimaced and pushed himself to complete the last rep. He let the weights drop to the floor with a heavy "THUMP" and slumped in exhaustion.

I massaged his powerful shoulders. "Ah think you d'servez a treat, whiteboy. How 'bout Ah takez you tah da Greasetank tonight? Ah thinkz you iz reddy tah start yo' offishul slave trainin' ..."

Dawson grinned up at me. "Really? Jeez, Ray - I've been waiting for this for weeks!"

* * *

I found Dawson Hughes in a Home Depot. He was buying some joint compound and paint and I managed to hear him give the cashier his address for the delivery. I also heard that he was a junior in college and was fixing up his new off-campus apartment. Perfect. He was about 5'10" tall, and extremely well-built, with his light brown hair fade-cut on the sides. From the thin shirt that was pulled tightly across his slabbed pecs, I could see that he had some elaborate ink on his chest as well.

I followed my next "project" for a few weeks to learn his schedule, and then I attacked him outside his building with the ethylene and dragged him upstairs to his apartment. Before I plowed his ass, I went around the corner and made copies of his keys.

The look on his face was priceless when he woke up to find himself tied and duct-taped over a table with a naked black man grinning at him and sporting a gigantic, steel-shod erection. Dawson screamed into his gag as he was raped and I felt the fight go completely out of him when I shoved my fist up his ass. I could tell that his attitude had completely flipped from terror to unbridled lust as I pulled my arm out of his chute and shoved my cock up once again.

After multiple switchbacks between my arm and my dick up his ass, I was spent. I grabbed him by his hair and smiled at him.

"You iz one amazin' dude, Dawz. D'ere ain't a lotta guyz good 'nuff tah b'cumm a black man's prope'ty. You iz one ov 'em. You shood be proud. Once you gotz inta it, Ah cood seez you knew dat's wat you wuz born tah do - service a muscle-brutha."

I kissed the back of his neck and then clamped the ethylene-soaked rag onto his face again. "Ah'll be back, Dawz. Cain't let such a talented an' promisin' whiteboy likez you goin' troo fistin' wiffdrawal..." He passed out with my words ringing in his ears as I cut his bindings and left.

* * *

Next time, I was in his apartment when he arrived. He dropped his groceries on the floor as he saw me sitting on his sofa. He stood staring at me in shock.

"You kin run, y'know..." I said conversationally. "But Ah figger you been thinkin' 'bout how Ah raped yo' ass an' you wuz wonderin' how you cood getz dat guilty sexual high agin. Ah guess you cain't tell yo' friends 'Ah been fucked by a Nubian street thug an' luvved it!', huh?"

I stood up and sauntered over to him. I rubbed his thick, muscular arms. He was shaking. "Hey Dawz - don' be scared. Ah knowz you need yo' butt fuck'd by a black man an' you do too. Ain't nuthin' wrong wiff bein' valuable prop'ety, whiteboy..."

He started to cry. I gathered him into my arms. "Shhhh... itz alwright. Ah'm gonna be takin' care ov you frumm now on... why don' you take off dem clothes? Ah been waitin' here fo' a few hours an' all Ah've been thinkin' ov is fuckin' an' fistin' dat tight ass ov yo's... ain't good t'keep yo' masta waitin..."

He sniffled and gave me a wan smile; then he started to strip.

* * *

Once we got into the shower room, I sat him down on a bench and got out the clippers. "First thing we gotta do iz getz rid ov dat hair o' yo's. Slavez don' got hair."

I buzzed the hair off his head, pits and crotch, leaving only a short stubble. I followed up with the razor and shaving cream, making sure that he was smooth and shiny. I shaved his eyebrows off as well. Then I had him turn around and grab his ankles and cleaned out the little bit of hair around his rosebud. We'd use the follicle-killer on him when he got nutted so he'd be permanently smooth as well; this was a trial run to see if he really was true slave material.

"Go an' take a shower now, whiteboy. We gotz a couple mo' thingz tah do."

He trotted into one of the stalls and proceeded to wash himself off. This one was going to bring in a lot of cash. I got $22,000 from Brian's milking alone and I was sure that Dawson was going to bring in a helluva lot more.

Once he came out, I knelt down and lubed his package then locked a CB6000 around his balls and over his cock. He stared at it in amazement as his flesh soon pressed against the unyielding acrylic and he winced as the pain of his imprisonment made itself known.

"Feelz good, Dawz?"

He touched the prison surrounding his cock and balls. "It hurts, Ray... but it feels... it feels right..."

Just the way a slave should respond. "Tonite, we iz gonna tes' yo' stamina. A long line ov black an' brown men need d'eir cocks sucked an' t'plow a whiteboy's ass. You gonna service all ov 'em."

I then proceeded to lock leather straps around his wrists, biceps, ankles and neck. He looked almost perfect. Just needed to have that ballsac removed. "Dat cock cage iz stayin' locked on you till we getz you an reel owner an' getz you nutted."

I could tell from the look on his face that the idea of being castrated had him redlining. "When are you gonna cut off my balls and make me a real slave, Ray?"

I handed him a dirty jock and some sweats. "Reel soon, Dawz. Put d'ese on. First off, we gotz t'get you yo' illegal alien ID an' yo' slave inkin'..."

He gave me a quizzical look. "You needz tah getz 'PROPERTY' inked 'cross yo' back, whiteboy. Ev'ryboddy who seez you gotz t'know you be owned ... by a brutha. You ain't gonna be wearin' clothez frum now on anywayz - jus' a jock, yo' slave bandz, a butt plug, mebbe a hood an' a lock'd colla...."

I tossed him a pair of dirty white canvas sneakers as well. "Inna few weekz, you gonna be a slave fo' reel. Time'll pass faster d'an you think. You iz stayin' down in da basement cell now till we getz you an owner an' getz you nutted."

He pulled the jock over his chastity cage and the straps framed his hard-muscled ass. "Ray...?"

I looked over at him.

"Will you please horsefuck me real hard before we go? I know I'll do better with your cum inside of me." He bent over the bench and his pink rosebud winked at me. Seeing him braced that way with the leather straps locked on his wrists and ankles had my horsecock hard and leaking with desire.

I grinned as I got a bottle of lube and slathered my shaft and his hole. "Anythin' fo' mah slaveboi..."

* * *
TANNER
Five Years Later - The Current Present
Wednesday - 4:30pm

The venue of meeting I was taking Jamie, Tony McLaren and several other officers was unorthodox to say the very least. The organizer was a firm believer in the concept of "hiding in plain sight", so all of us were gathering in a conference room in the middle of a fitness expo.

I was shirtless and wearing a pair of tight, destroyed jeans so faded they looked nearly white;  the rest of my officers looked absolutely wanton in their minimal arrays of compression shirts, tanks,shorts and sneakers. Their powerful muscles moved under smooth, inked skin and gave the impression of a bunch of physique models or porn stars checking out the competition - a few more (nearly) naked ripped and shredded men with a lot of tats barely drew a second glance from the real attendees at the show. The only thing that gave them away (at least to me) was the watchful wariness around their eyes as we moved through the exhibition hall itself.

I spotted the room number and gestured for them to follow. "Over here." I used the passcard I had been given and popped it into the door. The light blinked green and we entered.

* * *

We were the last to arrive. I recognized Othello Stone and Cameron Ross from the local FBI field office; Othello was in a pair of red compression tights which emphasized his considerable package and boxing boots;  Cam was in a pair of shorts with a tank saying 'Keep Calm and Stay Swole' with a cap worn backwards on his head - his Promethean arms and melon-sized traps glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and the blackwork tats on his arms twitched as he was speaking to another man. Including myself and my six men, there were about 35 law enforcement officers from three agencies in the room.

"Hey Tanner, these your Spartans?" Adam Howell gave me a lopsided grin and shook my hand.  His powerful physique was wrapped in a heather-gray tank and a pair of tight jeans unbuttoned to show off his orange trunks and thick bulge beneath them. Despite the fact that he looked all of twenty years old, the ATF special agent was a brilliant and experienced tactician as well as a deadly marksman.

My smile faded quickly. He reminded me so much of Charlie. "Yes. Jamie Reardon, Viktor Volkov, Ronnie Bearce, Kenny Wynand, Tony McLaren and Sam Halloran.  This is Adam Howell. ATF.” They shook hands as well.

He cocked his eyebrow. "You know what this is about? Gutierrez was pretty secretive on the phone."

I nodded. Penance. It's about penance. "I'll let him explain it." The door opened and the man in question quietly slipped in.

Sebastian "Bash" Gutierrez was as unconventional an FBI agent as the meeting he was holding. He had an open sleeveless hoodie thrown over his head, which left the amazing development of his slabbed pecs, six-pack abs and incredibly defined arms on display for all. A blackwork tattoo covered his heart, and his closely cropped black beard served to accentuate the strong and cruel planes of his face. His dark, intense eyes scanned the room as he stepped up to the podium to tap the microphone. Everyone quieted down and turned to face the speaker.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice – I apologize for the urgency as well as the location of the meeting…” He flashed a quick grin. “But given our appearance and… inclinations… I didn’t think it would be too much of a stretch. We’ve had some inexplicable leaks during the initial stages of this investigation, so everything has been done off the grid for over four years now – direct contact, real paperwork and no computer interaction at all.”

McLaren leaned over to Reardon and spoke in a very low voice. “Sir, is he saying what I think he’s saying…?”

Jamie gave him a curt nod and motioned for him to be quiet.

“For the past five years the Bureau has been investigating a string of thirty missing persons cases. All of these were similar in that the victims were healthy, muscular, college-age men that vanished after racking up cash advances on their credit cards for a single month before their disappearance. We’ve kept the fact that they were related off all computerized records.”

The screen above and behind him came to life and the pictures of the young men appeared with their names and the dates of their disappearances.

“We received our first break about three months ago. A new baby picture was posted on Facebook that was an exact match for a TBT photo posted by the family of the original missing person – Brian Hogan.”

Othello Stone raised his hand. “TBT? What’s that, Bash?”

“Throwback Thursday.” He continued. “The family that posted the pic was kind enough to let us do a DNA test on the baby. They had used a fertility clinic and the DNA came back as a match for Hogan. With that information, we dug a bit deeper and we found DNA from all of the missing men in various fertility clinics across the country.”

“And thanks to some forensic accountants, we believe that we’ve uncovered a human trafficking ring that snatches these men and is involved in selling their sperm at the very least, and perhaps organ harvesting or worse as well."

A deafening silence filled the room. The projector switched from the list of victims to a picture of a rangy man with dirty blonde hair and a prominent scar on his face.

“Our money man is believed to be Arkadiy Resnikov. Along with his brother Dmitriy, they are owners of a sex club called the Greasetank located in upper Manhattan.”

The screen switched to show two heavily muscled black men. All of my men stood frozen in shock; it was fortunate that we were in the back of the room because that reaction would have betrayed us all. McLaren turned white.

“The man responsible for the actual processing of the victims is Adrian Weaver. He's on the right. We’ve been able to track him back to a front company that sold the sperm to the fertility clinics. The man on the left is Rayshawn Johnson. We believe that he is the one tasked with sourcing the young men, abducting them and getting them prepared for their procedures. Both of these men have long, varied and violent criminal records.”

“Our other break in the case was the discovery of a body found on the side of the Taconic Parkway in Westchester. DNA was matched to one of the earlier missing persons as well.” Gutierrez’ face grew even harsher. “The body had been surgically mutilated and permanently depilated.”

A crime scene shot flashed onto the screen.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He bowed his head to gather his thoughts and then continued.

“Other than an extremely faint scar, the testicles were removed and the operation was expertly carried out to make it look like the victim never had any scrotum to begin with. The procedure was done a long time ago as well – probably right after the time of the abduction.  Nips and cock were pierced with large gauge stainless steel rings that were permanently welded shut. The body itself was in excellent condition – more developed than when he was abducted - with the exception of a large swatch of flesh that had been excised from the upper back. Our profilers believe that was an attempt to remove an extensive tattoo that gave some indication of ownership of the victim.”

“Ownership?”

“Yes. We canvassed nearly a quarter of the tattoo parlors in the city with the victims headshot before we got a hit. We found out that he had come in nearly five years ago to have the word 'PROPERTY' inked in large black letters on his back. The owner remembered because -  one, the young man was completely hairless; two, his couldn't be convinced otherwise and three, he paid in cash. We believe that this ring sells both the semen and the testicles of the victims and then sells the victim himself as a castrated slave to some other party.”

The atmosphere in the room was a combination of shock, fury, hatred and horror.

One of the ATF officers raised his hand. “Sir, could we please have a 5-minute break? I… I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Sebastian nodded. “I think we can all use a few moments to digest what  we’ve heard. I’ll start up again at…” He looked at his watch. “17:05. I’d ask that no one leave the premises, though. There’s some soda and water in the side-room as well as a restroom.”

McLaren turned to Jamie with fury in his eyes, but he was careful to keep his voice a harsh whisper. “You told me my partner was DEAD! You told all of us that Charlie was DEAD! You put on that memorial service and you KNEW all along he was alive as Ray-Ray the felon?? GodDAMN-it, Sir – how could you do that to us?” The five patrolmen gathered around Reardon and myself with anger and betrayal vibrating through every fiber of their being.

“Charlie IS dead, McLaren! Do you think that the man we knew would have been capable of the atrocities this thug has committed? Something… broke... inside of Hawke when he was turned into a black man. He went back to Zack to have the transformation performed again – permanently this time – and set himself up as a convicted felon. Everything about Charlie Hawke was obliterated. His face, his prints, his life, his soul – even his DNA – and Rayshawn Johnson's put in its place. It was my decision – not Reardon’s – to keep the memory of the officer we knew as Charlie Hawke unsullied, and the only way to do that was to lay him to rest. I’m sorry I did that to all of you. I brought you here today because I know you can share the burden that Reardon and I have borne these five years and let everyone else at the Four-One still remember Hawke as the man he was and not what he became. Tonight we have to end his reign of terror.”

Gutierrez returned to the podium. “According to a confidential informant the FBI has cultivated inside the club…” He nodded to Stone. “… a ‘nutting’ is going to be taking place tonight. We are going to raid the establishment and hopefully prevent another disappearance – and mutilation. The raid will be a joint operation between the FBI, ATF and the NYPD, but make no mistake - the Bureau is leading this operation. Captain Morgan of the 41st Precinct – along with his officers - is representing the Department. Adam has also been generous enough to provide electronic footprints detailing an operation that will be happening on the Lower East Side to provide us the equipment and cover our tracks. Of course, the details of the actual raid are in paper files in both the FBI and ATF offices.”

“Several vans are waiting outside. We will be driven to a location approximately four blocks from the establishment where we will be kitted up for a full-scale assault. The raid itself will take place at 2145 hours. Any questions?”

Halloran raised his hand. “How do we treat any attendees at the club, sir?”

Sebastian’s nose flared. “Anyone and everyone is to be considered armed and dangerous. Use whatever level of force necessary to save that young man… and take down that operation for good.”


* * *
RAY
Five Years Later – The Current  Present
Wednesday – 9:02pm

“He’s coming out of it.” The Vet said with satisfaction. “I have to admit, this is one of my best jobs yet.”

I stroked Riddell’s massive pecs and trailed my hand down the rifts and valleys of his etched six pack. I continued downwards and my fingers brushed over the fifteen tiny stitches that were all that remained of his manhood. Then I gave the metal ring that was the only visible indication of the gigantic plug up his ass a firm tug. Good. Still nice and tight.

The newly nutted slave’s eyes opened to find me smiling back at him. “Along wiff yo' slave ink, you iz lookin’ mighty tasty wiff dem slave ringz a perm'nent part ov you now, Brad…”

He stared down to see the large gauge rings that now pierced his nips and his eyes widened in horror as his limp cock was pulled over to one side by the weight of the even more massive ring though his heavy mushroom head… showing nothing below except the surface of the table. Riddell started screaming as he realized his balls were gone.

“Yeah, we took care o' ev'rythin' while you wuz knocked out… bein' you iz such an excitable whiteboy… dat Arab prince iz gonna be one reel happy man when he seez you an' startz fuckin' yo' ass…”

* * *

RAY
The Current Present - Four weeks earlier
Thursday – 7:28pm

Bradley Riddell had been a real challenge. I had seen him on the beach and I was immediately impressed by the powerful musculature of his body and disgusted by the incredibly arrogant frat-boy attitude. Adrian and I had had a special request from overseas and this muscle-puppy was the perfect candidate. This one needed to be made a castrated sex slave. And I was determined to do it.

I got the license number of his car and using Zack’s access codes into the DMV, I found out his address. From that point, it was easy to begin tracking him and make a detailed schedule and map of his activities. I decided to snatch him on a Thursday night after he left the gym (his “leg day”). He was barely able to stand and it was relatively easy to smother him with the ethylene. He did try to give me a judo throw – which surprised me for a second – but I countered it and pressed the rag even harder into his face. In a few moments, he went limp in my arms and his body went into my trunk.

As I was driving back to my own gym, I called Jack and arranged to have him meet me there. I wasn’t going to waste any time with this whiteboy getting him ready for a life of nutless servitude.

* * *

The tattoo artist was waiting for me when I drove into the back entrance. I lifted Bradley’s prone form out of the car and slung him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Jack followed me into the gym and down to the basement as I fastened him face-up on an exercise bench. I dampened two cotton balls with ethylene and lightly fitted them into his nostrils.

The tattoo artist shrugged off his backpack and stripped down to a sports jock that showed off his bulge to perfection. He winked at me. “Gotta be comfortable when I make housecalls, right?”

I pulled him to me and gave him a deep kiss as I massaged his tight, muscular ass. “ ‘Course you do. Mebbe you up fo' summ fun afta we finish wiff him?”

“Mmmmm….” He gave me a wicked grin as he rubbed my crotch and began to put his equipment together.

“What do you want done on this one, Ray?”

“Star an' crescent ovva hiz heart…” I handed him two sheets of template paper; one with the symbol I just described and the other with some foreign cursive lettering on it. “An' dis 'cross hiz shouldaz. Sez ‘PROPERTY’ in Arabic. Big, black an' bold.”

Jack gave me an evil smile. “Niiice...” He pressed the symbol paper onto his chest and began his work.

* * *

After he had finished the inking, Jack helped me get the muscle-puppy upright in a chair. I then proceeded to buzz off the hair on his head, eyebrows, pits and thatch. This was followed up with regular shaving cream and razor, but after I had washed him down, I slathered the hair remover and follicle killer over the areas I just cleaned off.

I set the timer for thirty minutes and turned to Jack. “C’mon, stud -  we gotz summ quality time fo' suckin' an' fuckin'…”

* * *

After Jack and I had finished, it was time to start getting Brad ready for his life to come. I washed him off again. The remover had done its job – the areas I had shaved were now a pale pink. The slight irritation would soon disappear and no hair would ever grow again where it had been applied; his dick was limp, so it was easy to lube it and lock a CB-6000 onto his package. I nodded in satisfaction as I put the hairless proto-slave over a table and fastened his wrists and ankles to the legs with cuffs and duct tape. Finally, I pulled the cotton balls out of his nose, stripped naked and sat back to wait. When I saw him starting to twitch back to consciousness, I poured myself a liquid glove of J-Lube and pushed my fist into his ass.

The pain of his violation woke him up like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“OWWWW!!! Fuck!!!” He screamed and writhed in his bonds.

I tsked. “Seemz dat you whiteboyz don’ getz edumacated da right way nowadays… nunn ov you knowz how tah take a black man’s fist up da ass no mo'…” My hand and wrist were already inside his velvety darkness; I pushed up against, then past, his second sphincter. I grinned with satisfaction as my forearm started disappearing up his hole.

He howled in agony as he was breached. “Stop! STOP!!! That fucking hurts! Goddammit  - STOP!!!”

“Ah ain’t stoppin' till Ah getz tah mah elbow, whiteboy. You gotta learn how tah please dark-skinn'd men, now – since you gonna be doin' it fo' da rest of yo' life…”

Between wails of torment, Riddell kept up a steady stream of curses as I plowed deeper and deeper within him. I knew the sensations were excruciating for him, but I didn’t give a shit – he needed to be stretched and he needed to learn to accept pain now as a regular part of his existence.

Finally, my elbow was resting against his cheeks. “Now dat wuzn’ so bad, wuz it, Brad?” I rotated my arm around inside his intestines and he sobbed in agony from the invasion of his body. I chuckled as I pulled out my arm and watched his greased-up gaping hole dribble mucus, blood and lube onto the linoleum floor.

“See? Yo' hole knowz… it knowz itz gotta stay filled wiff black man-meat…” I lubed up my horsecock and then grabbed his trim hips and thrust in.

The muscle-puppy grunted as I breached him again. I set up a punishing rhythm as I drove my dick in and out of his hole. He continued to curse and try to pull away from the raping of his ass.

“You shood getz used tah dis… it be da only thing dat whiteboyz like you be good fo'…”

He snarled. “FUCK YOU! You black bastard! Oh Christ…“ I had rammed in hard and hit his prostate. He quieted down as a wave of pleasure washed over him. I pulled out again.

I chuckled. “You liked dat, didn’ you? You needz dis, Bradley… you needz a black man rapin’ yo' ass like you needz sunshine an' fresh air…” I continued to pump until I felt my nuts contract and then howled as I unloaded a bucket of cum up his ass. The proto-slave had quieted down as well. I did a few more switchbacks between my fist and my cock until I was milked dry.

Damn, I'm beat. I've got to get him set up for the night. I pulled out and watched a combination of lube and silvery cum drip out of his ass. I took a screw plug out a drawer and slicked it up with some Hyperlube.

“Ah gotta getz you prepped fo' bed, whiteboy… an' we needz tah keep dat hole o' yo's packed an' stretched wiiide fo' ackshun…” I showed him the massive black screw-dildo that was going to be permanent part of his new life and then I pressed the end of the plug into his chute and started to twist.

“What the fuck are you doing to m-… Oh God, Oh God, you’re ripping me open!!!” He screamed as I continued to drill the gigantic invader into his ass.

He sobbed as the screw-dildo went deeper and deeper. Finally, the heavy end with the steel ring was pressed tightly against his asscheeks. He was panting with pain as I turned the screw again and his guts twisted to accommodate the massive intruder.

“Oh, please, mister…. Please, please stop… You’re gonna kill me…”

One more twist and the base disappeared into his ass, leaving  just the steel ring pressed against his pucker. I gave his cheeks a friendly slap. I gave the ring a hard pull - it didn't budge ... the plug was firmly embedded up his chute.

“See, whiteboy? You took it all! You iz a natural! You took mah arm up tah da elbow an' now you gotz a giant plug up yo' ass an' locked in yo' gutz! Dat’s a reel 'complishment! But you gotz t'be worn out now, so now itz time fo' you tah go tah sleep. We gonna start up agin t'morrow. Ah'm gonna fist you upta mah shoulda... an' d'en we gotz t'see how good you iz at cocksuckin'…”

I pressed the ethylene cloth to his face again and this time, he was too exhausted to struggle. Once I was sure he was unconscious, I removed the tape and cuffs from his wrists and ankles and lifted him off the table. I cuffed his arms behind his back and put a pair of leg shackles on him. Both had rubber gaskets to prevent any chafing of his skin, and then I locked him into his cell for the night.

BRADLEY
The Current Present - Four Weeks Earlier
Thursday – 11:47pm

I woke up what I think was several hours later on thin mattress lying on the floor. I was stark naked and my hands were cuffed behind me; I also had a pair of manacles around my ankles connected together by a short length of chain.  I groaned and rolled onto my back when a felt something solid shift in my guts and something hard pressing against my asshole.

It all came back to me in a flash. The abduction. The fisting. The rape. The black fucker shoving something HUGE up my ass. My fingers reached down to find a heavy metal ring pressed against my pucker; I could grasp it, but I didn’t have any leverage to do anything about it – in any case, whatever was in my guts wasn’t coming out without someone else doing it for me. It was too big.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I looked down to see my crotch as smooth as a baby’s butt and some clear plastic device locked around my cock and balls.  I had also been tattooed – there was a black star and crescent on my left pec.

I struggled to my feet and looked around at the room.

“Christ Almighty!!!” I screamed when I turned around. The wall behind me was mirrored. I stared at myself – or rather, what the black guy had turned me into.

Every hair on my body was gone … even my eyelashes. A rough-looking bald muscular man was staring back at me. Without eyebrows or lashes, I didn’t even look quite human. With my arms fastened behind my back, the musculature of my upper body was shown off to perfection and the Islamic symbol was prominently displayed over my heart. The shackles around my ankles were stainless steel – as was the chain between them – and completed the appearance of a slave awaiting punishment.  Another chain was connected to the centerpoint of the ankle chain and traveled to an eye hook on the floor.

Without volition, my cock started to thicken and grow in its plastic prison and the pain of that arrested erection was added to that of the giant plug in my guts. I turned around to see the Arabic lettering across my shoulders and the steel ring protruding from my ass. The pain grew worse as my dick tried (and failed) to swell even further. I was horny as hell because of the transformation the black guy had done to me.

I was ashamed at my reaction; I shouldn’t be getting hard – but I was.  Looking the way I did was such a turnon – and the thought of the black guy violating me again had my pulse racing in anticipation. His parting words echoed in my ears: “…you needz a black man rapin’ yo' ass like you needz sunshine an' fresh air…”

I sank to my knees and wept.

* * *

RAY
Five Years Later – The Current Present
Wednesday – 9:27pm

Riddell stopped screaming  and was sinking into a state of shock; because of that, it was fairly easy to get him prepped for his trip to his new owner in the Middle East.  But something felt wrong. I had had the uneasy impression of my world going sideways since I woke up this morning.

Adrian grabbed my package beneath the leather kilt. “Wat’s da matta, Ray-Ray? You been twitchy all day…” I had tried to ease my disquiet with a brutal mutual fucking session with my lover and business partner. It hadn’t helped.

“Ah ain’t sure. Sumpthin's not right. Getz Brad ready tah go an' take da tunnel. Finish sealin' him up in da warehouse. Hurry.”

The newly neutered slave was pulled into a well-lubed thin rubber fullsuit and an inflatable gag with a breathing tube was inserted into its mouth before an eyeless latex mask was pulled over its head. The hood was tucked into the suit’s high neck and the two pieces sealed together. This was followed by a thicker mask that was zipped and locked onto its head.

The slave’s body would then be forced into an extra-thick rubbersuit with feet, mitts and built-in hood that would be zipped up and locked as well. Thick heavy-duty rubber straps would mummify the slave with its arms crossed over its chest and it’s legs bound together. Finally, the package would be stuffed into a thick rubber bag with another built-in hood. The bag had heavy-duty diver’s zips that would be padlocked to a small metal flap at the top of the head. Lastly, the multiple straps on the rubber bag would be buckled up tight and secured with padlocks as well.  The only evidence that something was alive beneath the multiple layers of rubber would be the faint movement of the breathing bag connected to the end of the tubing.

Several years ago, I had convinced Arkadiy to provide a bolt-hole in the Greasetank in the event we needed to make a quick and quiet escape. From the room we were in, there was a hidden passage that went below the street and under several other buildings, to emerge about three blocks away in another property owned by the Resnikovs.

As the final preparations were underway, I heard yelling and the unmistakable sounds of gunfire.

I popped open the hidden door. “Getz da fuck outta here – NOW! Ah’ll catch up wiff you later!”

Adrian, Jack and The Vet hoisted the rubbered body of the new slave onto a gurney and hurried through the dark passage.  I shut the secret door, pulled out the unregistered H&K I owned and headed towards the violence erupting in the club proper.

* * *

SEBASTIAN
Five Years Later – The Current Present
Wednesday – 9:30pm

A phalanx of eight of us rushed the entrance of the sex club and one of the ATF agents threw the doorman down; an armored knee dug into the leatherman’s back as he was cuffed. The men waiting outside for entry scattered like roaches. We entered the club and were immediately assaulted by a cacophony of lights and music. The space was filled with many well-built leather- and rubbermen in various stages of nakedness and sexual congress. No one paid any attention to a few more well-muscled specimens in assault gear.

“Turn that shit off.” One of the patrolmen hurried away to quell the lights and sound. I aimed my well-modded M16A2 at the ceiling and squeezed off a couple of rounds. It was amazing how fast the partygoers quieted down.

“Attention gentlemen!” I said in my best parade ground voice. “Everyone over to the side. Stay there and do not interfere. Or else.” I hefted the rifle and gave the assembly a malicious smile.

Another patrolman – McLaren – looked up at the jumbotron screens around the club and cursed.

“They’ve got the vic rubberized! That’s Room 6… C’mon – there’s no time to waste!”

He pushed aside the crush of bodies and ran through the club. I motioned Adam Howell to follow him. I watched on the screen as Johnson pressed something and part of a wall opened up. Adrian Weaver, two others and the gurney holding the encased victim vanished through a darkened portal. How that young cop knew what room it was and how to get there was somewhat troubling but none of my business. Not right now. The important thing was saving the young man trapped in rubber.

You’re not getting away that easy, you fucking bastards. I thumbed the walkie-talkie clipped to my shoulder. “Team 2 – Your crystal ball was right. You have a go. Repeat. You have a go. Intercept as needed.”

Tanner’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Roger that. Team 2 now active.”

* * *

TONY
Five Years Later – The Curent Present
Wednesday – 9:39pm

I ran through the Greasetank, shoving bodies out of my way like they were made of paper. I got to the playroom corridor and when I got outside of Room 6 I skidded to a stop. There, right in front of me, was Ray. He was wearing a leather kilt, jump boots and a vicious snarl on his dark face.  The black thug held a large-frame automatic two-handed and at the ready. He seemed almost as shocked to see me and the gun wavered for a moment.

“Put it down, Ray! NOW!”

He turned and fled down the passageway. The human trafficker raised his gun and shot out the fluorescent lights in the corridor. Sparks, glass, metal and plastic rained down on me as the hallway transformed into a darkly hellish flickering landscape as I loped after him in pursuit.

My boots drummed against the concrete as I followed my former partner into an undeveloped area of the converted warehouse. The ceiling stretched away into the darkness and I was surrounded by large packing cartons and crates. The place was a dark labyrinth of hidden passages and shadowed crannies.

“Ray – where the fuck are you??” I yelled. My voice reverberated in the gloom.

“Ah'm 'round here sumplace, Tony… shee-it, itz good tah seez you agin… Ah miss'd all da good timez we had fuckin’ each otha…” His deep baritone echoed around the obstructions, making impossible to pinpoint his location.

“You gotta give yourself up, Ray… it’s no good. There’s no escape.” I moved slowly, scanning my surroundings and concentrating on hearing the black man move.

A deep chuckle escaped him. “An' why da fuck shood Ah do dat, Tony?” I felt the muzzle of the gun press against the back of my skull. “When Ah gotz me a hostage?”

* * *

TANNER
Five Years Later – The Current Present
Wednesday – 9:37pm

It had been my idea to check what other properties the Resnikovs owned before we hit the Greasetank and eight of us were stationed outside of a dilapidated warehouse that was about three blocks away from the sex club.

Suddenly, the corrugated garage door rattled and started to rise. Jamie and myself rolled under the door with our M16’s at the ready. The shock on Adrian Weaver’s face behind the wheel of a nondescript van was priceless. The rest of my team followed suit and we surrounded the vehicle and its occupants.

Reardon’s face was grim. His gun was aimed directly between the black man’s eyes. “Out of car! I think you’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you sonsofbitches…”

* * *

RAY
Five Years Later – The Current Present
Wednesday – 9:43pm

I grabbed Tony’s assault rifle and threw it behind me then spun him around. I had fully intended on using him as a human shield to get the hell out of this situation when the flickering glimmer from the corridor strobed across his features. I was shocked to see the tears streaming down his face.

“Cap and Sarge told us you were dead, Ray… all these years they told us you died in a burning car crash… Oh dear God, I've felt like a part of me died along with you…”

“Shee-it…” Tony was hardly ever this emotional, but he still looked like a ten-year-old when he cried. I pulled him into my arms. Damn, having Hawke's partner in my arms again felt so good. “Oh Tony… oh, man… those goddamned muthafuckin’ bastards… dey jus' coodn’t face da fact Ah hadda BE a black thug, cood dey?”

“The FBI isn’t gonna let you go, Ray – but I can’t take you in, either… even after all you’ve done, I... I just can’t do it…” I stroked his hair as he sobbed against my neck.

I gave him a soft kiss. “Hey… d'ere’s an ol' fire exit wayyy in da back… Ah kin wingz you an' you kin say Ah 'scaped… how ‘bout dat? You good?”

He sniffled and nodded. “Okay.”

I fumbled around in the dimness, found his rifle and handed it back to him. “Go back 'round dat crate an' start shootin' 'bove mah head.”

Tony let loose a short fusillade of bullets and then stopped. I let off a few rounds myself in his general direction as well.  We did that for a few minutes. Then I aimed carefully and shot him in the upper arm. The impact spun him around and he dropped to the floor.  I was about to pull off a few more rounds above his head when I felt something slam hard into me. I looked down to see a crimson flower – nearly black in the flickering light – bloom on my chest.  I’ve been shot. With that realization, the floor rose up to greet me.

* * *

ADAM
Five Years Later - The Current Present
9:50pm

I got separated from McLaren by a group of men stampeding down the passageway, but I saw Johnson aiming a pistol at him before fleeing down the corridor with the patrolman in hot pursuit. I got forearm to the face, fell backwards, bashed my head against something and went down for the count. I woke to find myself propped against a wall with a young, half-naked leatherman crouched and peering worriedly at me; he had the long, lean muscles of a professional dancer and heavy blackwork ink around his shoulders. The twenty-something was wiping my face with a cold, damp cloth.

"Officer, you okay? You were gonna be trampled to death with all the guys running out of here..."

"Why didn't you run out with the rest of them?" 

He gave me a shy smile that completely transformed his bearded face. "I didn't want you to get hurt any worse. You got a good shiner, a bloody nose and a lump on your head."

"Help me up." He stood and put out a leather-gloved hand for me to grasp then yanked me to my feet. Damn, he was strong. And fucking gorgeous.

"What's your name?"

"Andy. Andrew DaVinci."

I gave him a quick grin. "Thanks Andy, stick around, okay??..."

I wobbled a bit, but he steadied me; I quickly regained my equilibrium as I stalked after Johnson and McLaren down the flickering hallway and into the massive darkened space.

* * * 

I found myself in the Promethean gloom and then heard the exchange of gunfire. Heading towards the shots, I saw the looming figure of Johnson aiming his pistol at some target - probably McLaren. My own pistol whipped up and I put two rounds into his upper torso. He crumpled to the ground.

I literally tripped over the patrolman - he had been shot in the upper arm and the seeping blood produced a glistening shell to his tactical shirt. "It's okay, McLaren - Johnson's down. I saw him aiming at you - probably to finish you off - but I got here just in time -  I put two in his chest..."

"NOOOO!" The young cop screamed and  stumbled over to the felon who was lying in a rapidly growing pool of dark liquid. He knelt and pulled the human trafficker to his chest and cradled him in his arms.

"Ray! Ray! Hold on! We'll get help! Stay with me! Don't leave me again! RAY!!!"

Johnson's eyes flickered open and blearily focused on the man holding him. A dark hand slowly reached up to stroke the cop's face and a faint smile crossed the thick, sensuous lips. "Ah'm sorry Ah hurt you, Tony... so... sorry... pleez fo'give... Ah... Ah'm glad Ah got to... befo' Ah..." The hand dropped to the ground. McLaren howled and rocked the lifeless body as he wept uncontrollably.

* * *

Cleanup was relatively easy with all the major players either dead or arrested. Our successful raid was bittersweet - Sebastian had found Arkadiy Resnikov in a grimy little office counting money and Tanner had been able to rescue the victim, but not before he had been mutilated. He was in the back of an ambulance now and was slowly coming out of shock. Between him and the tattoo artist that was singing like a bird, we would be able to put Adrian Weaver and the rest of those bastards away for a long time.

The coroner removed Johnson's body and I stayed with McLaren until his CO showed up. The bullet from Johnson's pistol had gone clean through his arm and the medics put a tourniquet and gauze pads on the wound as a temporary measure. They also wanted me to go to the hospital to get checked out;  they were concerned about a concussion. Tanner Morgan took the young patrolman aside and held him in his arms. The cop had stopped weeping and nodded to the NYPD captain as he spoke quietly to him. He then walked slowly out of the darkened portion of the warehouse. Morgan was near tears himself.

"Adam, I've spoken to Bash about this and he's agreed to keep Johnson's name out of the public and official records. I'm asking you to please do the same. It's... it's important for my men - other than the ones that were on the operation itself - never to know that Rayshawn Johnson was involved in these crimes."

I nodded. "No problem. It's got something to do with your guy's reaction when I shot the perp, doesn't it? He had screamed 'Don't leave me again!' - I take it Ray was someone who got in too deep and couldn't get back out...???"

Tanner nodded. "Something like that. I'll tell you more about it some day - right now, I'm barely keeping myself together, let alone my officers." He started to leave, then turned around. "I'm going with McLaren to the hospital - out of everyone on the operation, you two were the only ones to get injured."

I gave him a sad smile as he put his arm around my waist; together, we left the building and got into the waiting ambulance. It was over.

* * * 

This is only the second time in nearly ten years that I have ever killed off a character. The story was something that had been bubbling around in my mind and I had to write it. However, since this is truly an AU (alternative universe) story, it really never happened in the main storyline, so my handsome policeman is still alive, still with Mateo and still a relative Boy Scout!

For those of you familiar with "The Outer Limits" (a 1960's sci-fi thriller series) the idea of "molecular plasticity" came from an episode called "The Hundred Days of the Dragon." However, the concept there was not very well thought out - the compound was injected into a person. If that was the case, then everything would have been plasticized - including the impersonator's hands that were squeezing the mold onto his own face. My improvement limited the areas and to make it more operational. I also wanted to see if this technology would work in a story, as I have another "Mission:Impossible" idea planned that also makes use of these concepts.

With the "Thug Tales" stories, we see how Charlie Hawke is being pulled down into a moral and criminal abyss - this story is the end-result of what would have happened had he not the ability to transcend the pitfalls before him. We see him becoming more and more depraved until he reaches the nadir of abducting and castrating men for money - the scripture of Romans 6:23 is indeed applicable here - "The wages of sin is death." Despite all of that, there was still the smallest glimmer of the man he used to be - this was evidenced by him NOT shooting his former partner in the corridor and then NOT using him as a human shield to escape, even though that decision cost him his life.

Even at the point I was writing the story, I wasn't sure whether I would have the final victim mutilated or not, and whether to have either or both Ray and Adrian escape. In the end, though, I figured I should probably tie up any loose ends and keep this a self-contained  story. However, I couldn't resist the little interplay between the ATF agent and the young leatherman. Who knows? Perhaps these two will meet by accident in the main universe I've created...