Apologies

It seems that "Miss Prissy" has also been active at late at the site I do most of my image posting. 

A number of images were taken down across multiple years of publications, but fortunately, since I keep an offline copy of the blog, I was able to replace them.

Sorry for any inconvenience.

The New Breed - Outtakes

(For the Blogger censors ... this refers to a work of FICTION - any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Language, situations and behaviors are only utilized within the confines of the post to enhance the story itself and do not represent any real-life circumstances in any way.) 

The story in "Many Worlds #1 - The New Breed" revolved around some new rookies at the Four-One being converted from white cops to black thugs. In there, I mentioned the possibility of changing one of the rookies into an Asian.

After I had generated the images, I didn't feel that that direction would give the rookie (now felon) sufficient capability to do bad things - in my imaginarium, I don't have a well-formed oriental crime syndicate and it would be harder for a solitary Asian to be involved in  felonious activities.

I also had some additional pictures of Marty and Paul "before" and "after" which didn't make the cut into the original story. 

But I wanted to give you readers a look and you can spin your own stories (or give me a plot outline for something new!!) 

Marty and Paul ... before their Conversion:

Marty and Paul (or rather, Johvorne and Takeshi) after their conversion:
 

 
Paul as 'Takeshi Fujiwara' seeing himself the first time:

Chuy and Takeshi ('Tak') embracing:

 

 

 

The Return of Miss Prissy

"Prissy."

Is what I'm feeling some of the "free" AI generation tools are becoming. 

I was going to talk about this in the afterword of "Many Worlds #1 - The New Breed", but I figured I should vent in a separate entry.No use ruining a good story, right?

When I first started using AI images, some of the image quality was less than impressive. Some examples were multiple limbs or extra fingers, eyes looking in different directions, problems with perspective and strangely moving joints.

The quality has improved (in some tools), but that improvement has also added some additional guardrails that make the process of creating my somewhat "saucy" images more difficult.

Yes, I could probably shell out a monthly subscription for something that would have more latitude and less restrictions, but I don't want to. 

Same reason I don't keep banking apps on my cellphone - if you don't have the access in the first place, you can't exploit it. Or track it.

ChatGPT appears to have the "prissiest" setup. Image requests used in other AIs have problems in ChatGPT. I have to literally cajole the beast into producing an image, saying "please" or "try harder" or "you just produced a nearly correct image. Fix this one item" 

In one case, I had mentioned a "thong brief". This obviously set the internal censors into a tizzy. I had to go back and forth and agree with it's suggestions - something along the lines of "a tastefully designed swimsuit" - what did I get? Exactly what I asked for in the first place!

Grok seems to be the most laid-back. I normally don't get "no go" messages, but the images still don't have the best quality all of the time.

Gemini seems to be the best middle ground. I get fairly good images, but sometimes I need to quit and go back later and try again. In one instance, I generated an image that was very good, but one of the characters had facial hair. Asking the AI to remove the facial hair did nothing after asking several times and in several ways, except to ADD facial hair to other characters, or remove the clothing from the upper body and adding a third arm.

Perchance is a newer product that can produce "saucy" images, but the "look" is reminiscent of some hyper-dynamic comic book vibe. I'm still experimenting with this one, but it definitely has potential.

I'd also welcome any suggestions as well!

 

 

Many Worlds #1 - The New Breed

(For the Blogger censors ... this a work of FICTION - any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Language, situations and behaviors are only utilized within the confines of the post to enhance the story itself and do not represent any real-life circumstances in any way.)  

CHUY - TUESDAY, 8:02am

"Hey Sarge, you wanted to see us?" Jamie had motioned to us after the morning briefing. Tito motioned to Martin Harris and Paul Raczyński to wait for us outside the squad room. We were currently FTOs to the two new rooks and acclimating them to the patrols around the Four-One.

"How did it go last week?" Sarge had identified Paul and Marty as high-potential rookies - much as we had been - and wanted to get them Converted as soon as possible.

"Fine. We brought them over to Zack's for their initial molds. They were apprehensive at first, but Tito and I stayed with them throughout the process. I'm not sure if Zack let anything slip, but they were a lot calmer after everything was done."

"How about the erotropin and transanabol? How much are they getting now?"

Tito smiled. "About one-fifty PPM in an oral suspension. Those two are really diligent about taking their 'pre-workout shakes' - we're in the gym with them before every watch. Working out with us definitely encourages them to keep up the regimen. We're seeing positive results in their physiques, but they're going to be shocked at the rapidity of change once the transanabol kicks into high gear post-Initiation, Sarge."

"They see what's going on the locker room and they're definitely interested." I chuckled. "Max asked Micah about it - he told him 'Everything will be revealed at your Initiation.'  Both of them are already beginning to use the Crawford cream and wear cock rings."

Jamie laughed as well. "Good! Zack and I scheduled them for Thursday." He paused. "We haven't had any new rooks for a while, so we're going to be really rough on them... I think you two should get them ready for what's going to happen."

Tito gave Jamie a bright white smile. "Will do, Sir! Bring them over to Zack's Thursday morning?"

Jamie nodded. "Get them there around 7am. Thanks fellas." He loped off to handle other business. 

I pulled Tito into an embrace and gave him a deep kiss. "Bien... Hay algunos novatos que hay que follar..." (Well, there are some rookies that need to be fucked..., ed.)

He nuzzled my neck and massaged my ass. "Después del entrenamiento de mañana, ¡les va a tocar un buen entrenamiento!" (After tomorrow's workout, they're going to get a workout!, ed.)

"Vamos. Let's get Max and Paul." The two of headed out to collect our rookies for patrol. 

* * *

PAUL - WEDNESDAY, 5:30am

"Jeez, Chuy ... that's incredible!"

My FTO was doing a series of dazzling acrobatic moves on the pommel horse in the gym and it was amazing that a guy that big - over six feet tall and over 250 pounds - could be that fast and flexible. Tito - Marty's FTO - was working out and pressing an unheard-of 500 pounds with little effort. 

Chuy continued with his workout, then spun around, twisted into the air, somersaulted, and nailed the dismount. He trotted over to me with a big smile. 

"You gotta be flexible and strong to be here, Pablito!" Chuy - like his partner, Tito - was a dark-skinned latino with a shaved head, dark eyes and a beautiful white smile. While Chuy was from Guatemala, Tito was from Mexico - like all the guys at the precinct, they were both built like Greek gods and loved showing off their incredible bodies whenever they had a chance. I was getting a massive hard-on just looking at him - he was half naked in just a pair of compression tights with a enormous bulge at his crotch - and I hoped that my gym shorts hid it.

No such luck. He looked down at my crotch and grinned even wider.  Damn.

"Hey, I wanna talk to you about your Initiation ... it's gonna be this Thursday. After you finish your sets, do veinte minutes of cardio, then meet me in the little locker room, okay?" I could see that Tito was having a similar conversation with Marty ... probably about the same thing. I nodded and he squeezed my junk as he left the gym. 

 * * *

I entered the smaller locker room to find Chuy there, along with Marty and Tito. 

"Sit down, chico... I wanna talk to you about what's gonna happen." He looked at Tito and a look passed between them. He knelt in front of me with an earnest look on his face.

"You see how we act in the locker room, right? We all like pija... dick. A lot. Looks like you do too. As part of your Initiation, you're gonna be servicing all the patruellos off-duty - you're gonna be sucking cock and getting fucked all night, then you get the chance to do the same to them."

As they were explaining, I felt my prong getting thicker and harder; Marty seemed anxious, but he was also sporting a massive hard-on plainly visible through his shorts as well. 

Tito continued. "Because Sarge thinks you two are high-value rooks - like we were -  you're gonna get some changes to the way you look for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"We can't tell you what's going to happen to you - yet. But we been through it too. That's why you visited Zack last week."

"Why can't you tell us?"

"We can't explain that either...We physically can't tell you. Zack will explain that to you too." 

Chuy picked up the conversation. "We're gonna do some stuff today with you so it won't hurt so bad on Thursday. We haven't got rooks in a while, so there's a lot of ... demand ... that you two are gonna have to satisfy."

"Stand up, Pablito.Watch what I'm doin'..." I followed my FTO's directions and he slowly pulled down my shorts, exposing my hard eight inches and the metal cock ring surrounding my junk. He gently took hold of my hips and gently licked the weeping tip of my dick. Bolts of pleasure crashed through me as he continued to lave my cock like licking a particularly delicious ice cream cone. More and more of my dick entered his mouth until my nuts hit his chin. Chuy established a smooth R&B rhythm as he skullfucked himself using my prong. Tito was doing the same to Marty.

I felt a massive orgasm building and threw closed my eyes in pleasure. "Oh Christ, Chuy, I'm going to come!" My FTO made some encouraging noises as my cock slid down his throat and I screamed as torrents of semen exploded out of me and into him. 

I must have shot four - maybe five - loads into the muscular latino before me. He pulled out and licked his lips as I was gasping from the effort. Marty looked worn out - but extremely satisified - as well.

"You're gonna get something to stop you from gagging with a throat full of cock for your Initiation. Tito an' me know how to stay relaxed an' swallow. You'll learn how to do that too." 

Our FTO's stood up, pulling down their compression tights and jockstraps to reveal their massive, caramel-colored tools. Like us, their packages were surrounded by gleaming metal; unlike us, they each wore three massive steel cockrings that pulled their junk up and out, making them appear even more gigantic than they already were.

"We're gonna slowfuck you now... we're gonna go real easy at first, and you tell me and Chuy if it hurts too much. We'll stop for a bit and let you adjust, ¿vale? Lay down on the bench for us. Relax."

Marty and I stretched ourselves facedown over the benches in the middle of the room as Tito and Chuy took some fluffy white towels and folded them up, tucking one under our faces and one under our crotches to shift our butts into the air. The two latinos rubbed some thick white lube onto their cocks from a big container labeled "Hyperlube" and then took a big dollop of the stuff and rubbed it onto and into our puckers. 

I felt Chuy straddle me and grip my hips as his lips gently kissed the back of my neck. 

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir..."

The pain was intense as his cock breached me. I clenched my fists in pain and hissed as more and more of his thick ten inches drilled into my ass. Marty cried out in pain. Tito murmured something to him. Chuy stopped as well.

"You okay, chico?"

"I... I'm okay ... keep... keep going..."

"Okay..." Another soft kiss on my neck. The pain began to subside and soon, I felt Chuy's ballsac on my buttcheeks  - My God, he's got all ten inches up my ass -  and an amazingly erotic sense of fullness. Chuy pulled out and I felt a sudden unwanted emptiness. He pushed himself back in and began a far more aggressive rhythm of pummeling my ass with his cock. Pain was replaced by pleasure as I felt his tool get even thicker as he groaned and flood of warmth filled my guts. My FTO continued jackhammering my ass and I lost count of the loads of cum that filled my insides. I watched with bleary eyes as Tito and Chuy switched places. The Mexican smiled and squatted down and booped my nose.

"My turn, guapo..." 

* * *

I think I passed out for a bit.

The next thing I remember was Chuy pushing something soft, yet firm into my ass, then lifting me up into a sitting position on the bench. He stroked my face and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

"I put a butt-plug in your ass, Pablito. Marty has one too. Es muy importante that you keep all of that cum inside you tonight, okay? How you feeling?"

"Good." The plug gave me a nice sense of fullness but without any painful stretching. In fact, other than some slight burning, my ass felt fine after the multiple rapes by both latino cops.

"Bien. Tito and me are gonna pick you two up at 6am tomorrow. Make sure you wear some old clothes and sneakers. Don't eat nothing tonight. Jus' liquids. We'll see you mañana!"

 

Marty and I looked at each other. We were tired, sore, our asses were plugged and our guts were full of cum. We grinned and embraced.

"Damn, I can't wait for tomorrow!"

 

 

* * * 

MARTY - THURSDAY, 7:02am

The four of us - me, Paul, Chuy and Tito - arrived at the Brooklyn warehouse a little past seven the next morning. My FTO went over to a heavy steel door and flipped open a hidden section of the wall; dark fingers rapidly entered a code into a keypad. With a loud CLUNK, I heard bolts retract and Chuy pulled open the door and ushered us in.

After going through a short, nondescript corridor, we encountered another steel door and another keypad. Once again, Tito's fingers danced over the keys and the door opened to a well-lit, spotless, high-ceilinged area.

"Hi guys! Right on time!" Zack - the owner of the warehouse - loped over and gave each of our FTOs a strong hug and a deep and intimate kiss. "C'mon in!" Paul and I got a strong hug from him as well.

Let me tell you a little about this guy -  first off, Zack is handsome as fuck. He's got blue-black hair cut in a short fade with a hard part on the left side. His face is all sharp angles and he's got a short, razor-cut designer beard on his cheeks and neck. He's got piercing brown eyes surmounted by expressive black brows and was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Zack is a little shorter than six feet tall, with a really well-developed physique; not stacked and jacked as Chuy or Tito, but built. He was wearing only a pair of tight rowers that rode low over his hips, a cropped black tank and low white leather sneakers without socks. His skin is smooth and hairless and he's got intricate blackwork ink running down both powerful arms. One on slabbed pec he's got a set of comedy/tragedy masks and the other one is covered by a set of praying hands. Below his navel, he's got Caesar's "Veni, Vidi, Vici" in blackwork script as well. 

He motioned us to a casual area with several couches and we sat down. "Okay, let me tell you two what we're going to do today. First off, we're going to remove all the hair from your body - face, head, crotch, etc. - and then I'm going to apply something that is going to put all your hair into the "sleeping" phase - nothing is going to grow back until I apply the counteragent. Chuy and Tito have this on them right now."

He continued. "I mentioned that you'd see some amazing things happen last time you were here. The next item on the menu is we're going to do is change the way you look. We're going to do some facial and cranial remodeling so you'll appear completely different than you do now."

He must have seen the panic on our faces. "No surgery! No scalpels! No blood! Just some discomfort. I apply a special compound to your face, head and other areas that lets me reshape them like putty. That's why I took molds last week. That's gives me the basis to create the alterations and change you back at the proper time. The compound's effects only last a short while until everything goes back to normal. That why we move quickly making the changes."

"H-How long will we be different?"

"That's up to Sergeant Reardon and Captain Morgan. And you." 

He continued. "The next step is applying several coats of special nano-dye to your skin. Along with the remolding, this will assure that any connections to your current selves will be obliterated. In a sense, you - the you are now - will cease to exist. I'll be changing your eye color, tooth surfaces and voice pitch as well. I'll also be adding some artificial hair to complete the transformation. You two are going to become black men - completely indistiguishable as if you had actually been born that way."

Chuy spoke up. "And with criminal records!" 

At our shocked expressions, Zack gave us a wide grin. "The process is permanent... but completely reversible. All of the black guys you see at the precinct aren't really black - they've been Converted. By me. Chuy and Tito have been through the process multiple times..." He chuckled. "In fact, these two latino gorillas were skinny white guys once too."

Our FTOs grinned. "Well, never skinny, Zack... just not as jacked as we are now..." Chuy flexed his arm as the muscles popped into amazing definition and vascularity. 

Paul's mouth dropped open in amazement. "Why couldn't you tell us this before, Chuy? You - both of you - have been black guys? You aren't even really latinos?"

Zack interrupted. "Because they couldn't. The final step in the process is inserting some artificial memories for your new identities and some post-hypnotic conditioning to prevent you from revealing anything about this procedure. They physically couldn't say anything about this process until I told you about it."

"Who were you before?"

"My name was 'Charlie Hawke' before I got converted into 'Chuy Calderón' and Tito used to be 'Tony McLaren' - we're part of a special trial to convert white cops into 'foreign' latino cops as part of an 'international exchange program'. We're hoping that Cap will let us stay this way permanently. In that case, we'd switch between how we look now and murderous black felons as needed. When we're thugs, I'm 'Rayshawn Johnson' and Tito is 'Benjamin Cantrell'. You can look up their rap sheets in NCIC when we get back to the station."

"Wow..." My cock was leaking pre-cum all over my jock. "How long have you been latinos?"

"About five months. We've been black guys for over a year as well once. That was a deep undercover assignment. After you Convert, it's really hard becoming just white guys again. You can't wait for the next time." 

"I was going to Convert one of you into an Asian. Physically, everything was perfect, but I'm having a little trouble with inserting Japanese into a mind without giving you a stutter. But that'll get fixed soon."

He rubbed his hands. "So... you two ready to become ghetto rats?"

* * *

TITO - THURSDAY, 7:47am 

After having all of their hair shaved off and depilated with Crawford cream, Marty and Paul took a shower and came out looking like a pair of naked skinheads with raging erections. Zack proceeded to rub the lotion all over them that put their hair to sleep.

Paul was giving Marty a strange look.

"What's wrong?"

"You look bigger than you did yesterday."

Marty took a hard look at Paul as well. "So do you. Must be the fact that we're completely hairless now. Must make everything look bigger."

Chuy and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. With the amount of cum we pumped into them yesterday, no wonder they looked bigger. They were bigger. Now that the transanabol had been activated by semen, these two would start seeing amazingly rapid muscular development.

Zack kept a straight face. "Chuy, Marty's up first. Why don't you and Paul go work out a bit? I'll come get you when I'm ready." My partner nodded and the two sauntered off towards the gym.

The transformation artist brought us over to another area of the warehouse. This section was filled with industrial steel equipment and a long examining table with a large metal box at one end with a rack and pinion mechanism. Zack pushed a button, and with a hydraulic hiss, the box separated into two halves. We could see the outline of a head on the lower section.

"That's how we remold your head and face. Let's do the easier items first." 

The dark-haired artist brought Marty over to a heavy wooden chair with similar metal blocks on the armrests and a long rectangular block in front. A number of cables snaked out of the boxes and into a laptop computer on a table. Zack went over to the computer and tapped some commands on the keyboard. The blocks hissed open to reveal negative molds of hands and feet.

"Have a seat. Let's get the plasticity compound on you." Zack pulled on a pair of thin gloves with an odd metallic sheen and opened a jar containing some bluish gel. He rubbed a generous amount onto both of my rook's hands and feet and in a few moments, the normally healthy-colored skin took on a sickly gray appearance. 

"Okay - put your hands and feet in the molds. Fingers and toes in position." The artist checked the positioning and nodded, then walked back and tapped a few more commands onto the console. The blocks ratcheted closed and a red light appeared on each unit.

"You're going to feel some pressure as your old prints are smoothed out and the new ones and created..."

After about ten minutes, the lights flickered and then turned green. The boxes opened up and Marty's skin appeared normal again. 

He looked at his hands. "Wow... they look a little different..."

"I changed the shape of the fingers a bit, plus you have completely different prints now that are on file with NCIC belonging to a black man named 'Johvorne Miller'. I'll be giving you brand new ID before you leave, too. Now, let's do your teeth."

Zack took a small paintbrush and proceeded to coat Marty's teeth with the compound. After a few minutes, he then inserted dental molds - top and bottom - into his mouth.

"Bite down hard..." Marty clenched as Zack put a nylon strap under his chin and around his head to pull his jaws even tighter together. He used a mini-ratchet to tighten the strap to near-painful proportions.

"Mmmhhmm-phhhmmm!!"

"I know, this one is super uncomfortable. I'm really sorry." Zack looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

Finally, it was time for the head and face. At this point, 'Martin Harris' would soon cease to exist and  'Johvorne Miller' would be taking his place.

Again, Zack slathered the compound on Marty's smooth head and face and waited until the skin turned gray. He walked him over to the exam table and we helped him lay down, putting his head into the back section of the mold. Zack fiddled with some clear plastic tubes on the upper section. 

"I'm going to put these tubes in your nose so you can breathe once the mold closes. Since you won't be able to speak, I'm going to tap your chest. Give me a thumbs up if you can breathe okay. If not, we'll reopen and adjust you and the molds. Then we'll seal the mold and start the reshaping. You're going to feel more pressure than on your hands and feet, and this part takes about twice as long. Tito and I are going to be right beside you, so don't worry." 

Marty nodded as Zack inserted the tubing into his nostrils as the front of the mold descended and mated with it's counterpart. He tapped my rookie's chest and got a thumbs up. I held his hand as the mold sealed and the red light turned on. I watched as the pressure gauge increased and I felt Marty's hand tighten around mine. Twenty minutes later, the light blinked and turned green; with a hiss, the mold separated. 

Marty - or the black man he was becoming - sat up and blinked.  

"How do Ah look?? Dayumm!" He realized he was drawling his words and was wide-eyed as he felt the thicker brow, wider nose and fuller lips that he now possessed.

"Sorta like cookie dough that needs some serious baking!" The three of of laughed as Zack and I helped him off the table and proceeded to the next phase of his transformation.

* * *
No matter how many times I've been Converted, it's always amazing to see the transformation of a white man into a black thug. After five coats of the nano-dye, Marty now appeared to be a naturally born African-American. The voice-altering compound was sprayed down his throat and the eyedrops were applied. After 5 instillations, he sported the same deep brown-black irises as I did. Thanks to the artificial hair, he also sported thick black brows and well-trimmed nappy ebon hair in a short fade. Zack had also punched in small CZ studs into his ears. He was naked except for a black posing pouch riding low over trim hips and highlighting the well defined adonis belt on his dark skin.

"Shee-it, Zack, dis iz amazin' !!" Marty - now Johvorne - was grinning at his newly chocolate-brown skin  and was amazed at his reflection in the mirror. Zack had put some Crest Whitestrips over his teeth to brighten his smile even further. His voice was deeper as well.

"Now we need to do the memory insertion and conditioning. I have to give you a shot to allow the assimilation to occur. You're going to feel a little disoriented, but after a nap, you'll feel fine. Ready?"

The newly created black man nodded.

"Make a fist." Zack tied a rubber strap around his bicep and tapped his inner elbow until the vein popped up. He took a syringe off of the table and injected it.

"Woooo...."  Johvorne swayed and I caught him before he fell and helped him into a chair.

"That was fast."

"New formulation." Zack was prepping two more syringes and injected them into his arm as well, then removed the rubber strap.

"Transanabol and erotropin. He's gotten the standard Four-One dose, so he'll be horny as hell and packing on muscle in no time!"

The black man had a dazed look on his face. 

"Marty, stand up. Time for memories."

I helped him stand and put my arm around his waist as we shuffled along another corridor. 

The artist opened a door to another, smaller, dimmer room and ushered us in. 

I never saw this setup before. The room contained two chairs, a padded bench, a computer and a white machine that looked like a large cylinder with giant pair of attached binoculars.

"Have a seat, Marty." My rookie staggered over to the chair in front of the machine and plopped down, while Zack attached several electrodes to his  skull.

"Marty, I want to you push your face into the eyepieces of the machine and try not to blink. You're going to see a lot of colored lights and patterns. When the machine shuts down, you can lay on the couch over there and take a nap, okay?"

The black man nodded and followed the directions. Marty settled himself in the chair and pressed his face to the padded area surrounding his eyes. A kaleidoscopic brightness filled his field of vision - modeled on the computer screen - strobing in different and varied patterns. The patterns slowly increased in intensity and speed, and the patrolman's eyes followed the intricate dance of  light.

"Wow…That's really pretty…" He murmured.

"That it is…" Zack watched the progress on the computer screen and turned to me. "The artificial memories and conditioning are compiled, formatted and transmitted through Marty's optic nerves directly into his brain. The sensors he had attached onto his skull are showing the synaptic activity increase as the memories and directives are assimilated."

"So that's how we get all of our background info... wow..." 

The duplicated activity on the computer monitor slowed and the lights from the machine dimmed and turned off. Zack removed the electrodes from Marty's head and I helped him over to the bench. The artist stroked his head and gave him a kiss. "All done, handsome. Go to sleep now." The black man closed his eyes and in a few moments was breathing deeply and out like a light.

 
"How long is he going to be unconscious?"

"About thirty minutes." 

 "Can I stay here with him?"

Zack nodded. "Of course! Once he's up, bring him back to the operating area." 

* * *

ZACK - THURSDAY, 11:44am 

Once Marty - now Johvorne - was sleeping, I went to the gym and got Chuy and Paul. The rookie needed another shower before we started, but other than that, the procedure moved smoothly along. In the span of a few hours, another newly minted black man was created.

"Ah cain't bee-leeve how fan-tastic dis iz!" Paul Raczyński - now Tyrese Carter- stared at himself in the mirror. He reached up to touch the diamond studs in his ears and a bright, white smile split his now-dark face. "You sed Ah got a crim'nal record, too?"

 

Chuy nodded. "Both of you have a nice, long rapsheets - rape, robbery, burglary, GTA - plus outstanding warrants. Right now, you're hiding out from the cops by pretending to be cops." He laughed. "You know how inefficient the NYPD is when it comes to background checking... Sarge expects you to be committing new felonies when you're off-duty and if you get caught, part of the conditioning will prevent you from saying who you really... were - only who your fingerprints say you are now."

"Dayumm..." Tyrese paused. "But Ah don't know how to do any ov those thingz..."

Zack chuckled. "You will. All part of the artificial memories. You'll find that the things that you knew as 'Paul Raczyński' will still be available, but will feel like they belong to someone else. Not to a hoodie rat with a tenth-grade education."

"You'll also find that it'll become more and more natural to speak like a low-class felon all the time. Don't fight it - just go with the flow. Sarge will probably send you to Rikers for a week or two. That'll cement your bona-fides. You'll find that being cuffed and incarcerated is going to be an amazing turnon as well."

"When do Ah get da memoriez an' da condishunin' ?"

"Whenever you're ready. I need to give you a shot to help the memories implant themselves properly." I wrapped the rubber strap around his bicep. "Make a fist."

* * *

JOHVORNE - THURSDAY, 4:48pm

I was standing in the operating area with Tito when Chuy walked in with another guy. It took me a moment to realize that the black stud with him was Paul. We both were almost naked - wearing just skimpy black thongs that barely contained our junk - and Zack had punched diamond studs in both of our ears.

His dark, ethnic face had the same look of shock and surprise and he broke out into a blinding white smile.

"Paul? Dat's you? You look fuckin' incredible as a brutha!" He pulled me into a embrace and kissed me with his full lips. Kissing a hot black criminal was mind-blowing... particularly since he used to be a white cop.

"You do too! Dayumm ... dis iz amazin' wat Zack did fo' us! Ah cood nevva believe inna million yearz I'd evva be a real black man!" 

I kissed him again - harder - and slipped my tongue into his mouth. We dueled for control until we broke for air.

"Jeezus!!" He laughed. We both noticed that our ebon cocks were painfully erect and poking out of the black posing pouches around our waists.

Tito winked and tossed me a jar of Hyperlube and Chuy pitched a roll of paper towels to Paul. "Looks like you two need to take care of some business. Butt plugs are on the table. After you're done, come into the kitchen. Straight ahead and two right turns."

* * *

We spent a good twenty minutes brutally fucking each other and after we had exploded multiple times into each other's guts, we wiped ourselves down, pushed the plugs into our asses, pulled on our thongs and limped into the kitchen, following the scents of fresh coffee and cinnamon. Tito, Chuy and Zack were drinking and eating some danishes. The two latino FTOs had changed out of their clothes and were just wearing thongs like us; Chuy had an electric blue one, and Tito's was bright red. 

Zack gave us a grin. "Had a good time?"

"Oh, yeah... we fuck'd each otha's brains out..." Paul chuckled. "It wuz mind-blowin' seeing mah brown handz grabbin' Marty's hipz an' shovin' my black dick into hiz black ass...  how cumm we still are 'Marty' an' 'Paul' - Ah thought we were suppos'd to be thinkin' and actin' like we were bruthas now?? We sure don't sound like white copz any more!"

"You haven't gotten the trigger phrases yet. Have a seat." Tito and Chuy got up and we sat down.

"Ready? Here's we go. Applesauce. Paraffin. Turboprop."

The world spun around for a moment and then everything came back into focus.

"What's your name?  

"Ah'm Johvorne Miller!" He looked shocked as the name just tumbled out of his mouth, then grinned.

"And who were you before you became a black man?"

"Ah wuz Marty Harris ... huh?"

"The conditioning is now active. But because you're with me and other guys from the Four-One, you can express that. If you were out on the street, you couldn't." He turned to Paul. "And what's your name, stud?"

The black man smirked at Zack. "Ah'm Ty-rese Carter... who da fuq do you think Ah iz??" He surprised himself at his response. "Jeez... sorry 'bout dat... it jus' came out dat way."

Zack patted the muscular dark skin of his arm. "No problem. Completely normal. Just what I was expecting." He turned to the two latino cops and grinned. "I gave him an attitude problem."

Tito chuckled. "We'll take care of that..." 

His face got serious. "Now, I'm going to unlock the rest of your new artificial memories." He raised his brows as he looked at both of us. "What's are your Department of Corrections IDs?"

"843932"
"756718" 

"Fucckkk!!!"  The number just tumbled out of my mouth. My mind swirled as I remembered growing up black - always being black; the cheap apartments I lived in; my uncles in lockup; my own stints in front of multiple judges for crimes I had committed; and the numerous times I had been behind bars. I remembered the many times I had been raped in jail by ferocious muscle-bruthas and how I had done the same to unsuspecting whiteboys. I remembered as well that Tyrese and I had been cellmates multiple times with all of the rough sex that entailed in and out of prison.

I looked at Tyrese and grinned. "Shee-it... Ah cain't bee-leeve da shit we dunn..."

He grinned back. "Ah, cain't wait t'see our NCIC rapsheets!"

Chuy lifted Tyrese out of the chair and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Tito did the same with me.

The Guatemalan cop laughed. "Another amazing job making these two lowlife muscle-bruthas! Zack, I think Tito an' me need to work over these delincuentes habituales (jailbirds, ed.) before the rest of the guys show up tonight. You have someplace we can do an interrogation?"

Zack leaned against the wall and gave all of us a satisfied grin. 

"Sure do! Upstairs bedroom on the left! You know where the lube, restraints and toys are! I've got to get the dungeon prepped for Jamie and the other cops before eight! Don't wear those two out too much!!!"

 

 

* * *

Okay, I will be the first to admit that parts of the storyline here have been used before, but I am really trying to keep the momentum going with publishing new entries and continuing the stories of Chuy and Tito. 

Even the best writers sometimes just need to get something out!

We encounter a lot of themes here that you've seen before, as well as some new items... one of which is the fact that the transanabol bestows seriously impressive physical amplification to those who take it. Tito/Tony was never able to press five-hundred pounds, and Chuy/Charlie is performing Olympic-level acrobatics unheard of with someone at his height and weight - an average male gymnast is between 5'3 and 5'10 and between 132 and 154 pounds.

Zack, of course, is up to his old tricks as the transformation artist par excellence, and his skills improve with every Conversion he makes. I also wanted to establish a solid connection between Zack's activities and technology from The Castle. The memory transfer machine, the drugs - transanabol and erotropin, the artificial hair - all come from the incredible minds of those paramilitary, near-immortal boy scouts with ESP and a serious taste for dick.

I think the next theme to cover is going to be Charlie's conversion discovery by his uncle Danny and then probably Inti/Mateo's by Uncle Damien - maybe with Danny's help. Or not.

Stay tuned! 

No Pain, No Gain Part III

(For the Blogger censors ... this a work of FICTION - any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Language, situations and behaviors are only utilized within the confines of the post to enhance the story itself and do not represent any real-life circumstances in any way.) 

And now, for a little history....

Jasper has decided to proceed with a permanent Change. As threatened, his parents have disowned him and thrown him out of the house. Heartbroken, Jaz stays with his Changed brother DeWayne and his roommates.

Thanks to a much-streamlined process, the young man has completed all the paperwork for his Change - luckily for him, the only documentation that needed updating was his birth certificate - changing his name from "Jasper Newsome" to "Jamal Nelson". After his brother had threatened the elder Newsome with legal action (as well as physical violence) his parents surrendered their rights, designating Wayne his guardian until he comes of age. Once the process is complete, 'Jamal' will be transferring to a new school that will be in line with his expanded mental and physical capabilities as well. Deke's considerable influence has allowed a transfer pre-Change for the young man. All of his new classmates are black males and handsome as hell; all are very welcoming and eagerly anticipate the arrival of the "new Jamal" once his Change is completed.

Wayne accompanies his brother to the Phillips Clinic where he will receive the full dose of blakformin and transform permanently into a hyper-dieseled black man.

"You nervuss, Jaz?"

"A little, Wayne. More eager than nervous. I can't wait to become a black man again - for good this time."

A nurse calls out. "Jasper Newsome??"

Wayne gives him a kiss. "Ah'll be seein' you - well, not 'xactly you in a little bit. Good luck!" The young man gets up and follows the nurse out of the waiting room.

Jaz is sitting on the examination table when a bald, black, hypermuscular doctor enters the room. He is wearing blue medical scrubs that are pulled tightly across his promethean frame and a stethoscope is slung around his neck.

"Jasper Newsome? I'm Dr. Ajani Phillips. I'll be administering the blakformin and assisting you in your Change. Got a couple of questions for you first, okay?"

The young man nods.

"First, you are doing this of your own free will, correct? No one has coerced you into becoming a black man?"

Jaz shakes his head. "No, this was my decision. My brother went through the Change and he loves it! He helped me with a trial Change for a week to see if wanted to do it, and that was the best week of my life!"

The doctor smiles. "The big black pill?"

Jaz chuckles and nods. "Yes, Doctor. Really bad cramps and body aches when I was Changing, though."

The doctor smiles and pats the young man's thigh. "Just call me Ajani. I remember my trial as well... it was absolutely fantastic! I hated turning back into just a white man. I think it hurt more on change back."

Jaz made a face. His transformation back to a sixteen-year-old white boy had been excruciating.

"Why did you Change?"

"Well, I was already a cardiac surgeon - in my late forties - and going through the Change allowed me to take care of my patients even better than before. Longer as well. I just finished my Neurosurgery internship, but I always volunteer to help young men like you."

"Wow... you look like you're in your late twenties or something..."

Phillips smiles at the compliment. "Blakformin resets the biological clock and keeps it there. Couple more things we have to cover." He flips through a sheaf of papers on his clipboard. "I see that 'DeWayne Nelson' has signed all the paperwork as your guardian. That's your brother?"

"Yes. He used to be 'David Newsome' but changed his name after he became a black man."

"What about your parents? Are they still alive?"

Jaz paused. "My parents disowned Davey when he Changed and did the same to me when I told them what I wanted to do. I live with Wayne now. I'm changing my name too. I'll be 'Jamal Nelson'. "

"Is he with you today?"

"He's in the waiting room."

"And I assume he brought a change of clothes? You already know that nothing you came in with is going to fit afterwards?" He grinned. "Because no matter how much you want to show off, you can't leave here buck naked..."

Jaz laughed as well. "Yes, Doct - sorry, Ajani. All set there."

"Perfect! One more thing. You're going to get an intravenous injection of blakformin, so the transformation effects are accelerated. That also means the Change will be a lot more painful. What I like to do is mix the blakformin with a light dose of propofol. This puts you into a state of  'twilight sleep' - you'll feel relaxed and drowsy and the comprehension of pain will be very much reduced. You'll be able to follow directions, but there's usually a little bit of memory loss about the actual process going on. Can I do that for you?"

"Sure! Thanks!" The doctor fills the syringe with a small amount of clear fluid, then switches bottles and fills the syringe with a sparkling black liquid.

"No problem! Make a fist for me?" 

Jaz clenches his hand and the doctor flicks his index finger against the inside of the young man's elbow several times until the vein becomes more prominent; he slips the needle into Jaz's arm and empties the contents into the young man.

"OK son, lie back for me and relax..." Jaz slides around on the table and closes his eyes. Phillips gently pulls off the boxer shorts and socks and covers him with a towel for modesty.

Jaz's face twists in pain. "Owwww...." His tone is slightly slurred and disconnected.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ummm... okay, I guess. I feel real achy ... like after a hard workout..."

Phillips strokes the young man's forehead. "Shhhh... That's the blakformin taking effect..." 

Jaz gives a lazy smile. "Mmmm...That feels good, Doc... My mom used to do that to me when I was sick..."

The doctor continues the caresses of the patient's forehead and watches as Jaz gently groans and twitches as his body grows and fills out. Soon, a heroic frame plated with thick and well-developed muscle is on the table. Few moments later, the young man's skin darkens until he is a deep chocolate-brown, with lighter mocha complements on the palms and soles of his much-larger hands and feet.

"You look amazing, Jamal..."

"Mmmm... thanks... it doesn't hurt so much now..." 

The younger Newsome's features begin to thicken and change as well; the head shape becomes rounder and shorter; the superorbital ridge thickens; the nose widens and the lips take on a sensuous new thickness and fullness. Jaz's hair falls out and jet-black replacements take their place on his head, eyebrows and face; the doctor nods in satisfaction at the smooth and hairless dark skin covering his hypermuscular body. Overall, his visage has matured from a teenager into that of a twenty-something; this will be the face he will maintain throughout his lifetime. The Changed black man gives a contented groan and from the gentle rising and falling of his chest, the doctor realizes he has fallen asleep.

Phillips lifts a well-developed arm, checks the pulse and nods in satisfaction; he then unloops the stethoscope and checks the heartbeat. With a smile, he returns the stethoscope back around his neck and quietly leaves the exam room.

 * * *

"Mr. Nelson?" Ajani enters the waiting room and DeWayne perks up at hearing his name. Jamal's brother is wearing an electric blue tank and white shorts. He gets up and walks over to the doctor.

"Everythin' OK, doc? How's mah brutha doin'?"

The doctor smiles. "Everything's fine. He came through the Change with flying colors and he's currently sleeping off the sedative...." Ajani pauses. "Could I get his new clothing, please? I want them there when he wakes up."

"Shure! Here it iz." Wayne hands the doctor a brown shopping bag.

"Thanks! I'll send him out in after he wakes up and gets settled."

* * * 

Jaz yawns and stretches. He opens his eyes to see his much-larger and hypermuscular arm and grins as he looks down to see the remainder of his newly promethean, dark-skinned body. 

I did it. I'm a real black man. I'm 'Jamal Nelson' now... and forever.

He strokes his powerfully-muscled chest and marvels at the incredibly amplified sensitivity of his touch. His hands travel down his torso to trace the sharply edged plateaus and valleys of his etched abdominals and the hard and defined contours of his intercostals.

Jamal's hand continues further and peels back the towel covering his cock and balls and is shocked at the new size of his package - even in it's semi-soft state it is gigantic. Like his the rest of his body, his crotch is smooth and hairless and as he caresses his ebon tool, it grows and hardens to an impressively thick and veiny ten-plus inches.

"Mmmmm...Dayumm, dis feelz so good..." He shocks himself at the much deeper timbre of his voice and then chuckles.

A knock on the door interrupts his fondling as Ajani Phillips reenters. A quick look at the tented towel brings a grin to the dark face of the doctor and a look of embarrassment on the dark face of the patient.

"I see everything is in working order... How was the Change this time? Any lingering aches? Any dizziness?"

Jamal gives a happy laugh. "Ah feelz fan-tastic, Doc! No aches o' nuthin now! Ah r'memba gettin' da injeck-shun an' Ah r'memba summ pain, but itz all reel fuzzy... Ah don't reely r'memba anything till Ah woke up."

"That's one of the big benefits of doing the Change in a clinical setting. There are storefront facilities for Changing, but they're not licensed for the sedative mix. I let your brother know everything went well and I brought in your change of clothes." Phillips paused. "You may feel a little unsteady right now with your change in mass and center of gravity, so just take everything slowly. That will disappear in an hour or so." 

The doctor gently holds the new black man's face in his hands and gives him a gentle kiss.

"Congratulations, Jamal... welcome to a whole new world of possibilities...." 

With a smile and wink, Ajani Phillips quietly closes the door to the examination room as he leaves.

* * *

Jamal sits up and swings his legs over the side, then pushes himself off the table to stand on the floor. He walks around a bit and is happy to find that he has none of the unsteadiness the doctor had mentioned.

"Lemme see wat Wayne lef' fo' me..." The newly minted black man lets the towel fall to the floor and places the shopping bag on the examination table to remove the contents. 

His brother included a yellow thong, a black compression shirt, stretchy jeans and a thick leather belt; there is also pair of no-show socks and a pair of white leather sneakers. There is also a card with the clothing.

He tears it open to see a Snoopy and Woodstock get-well card. The words "Get Well" have been crossed out and "Got Changed" written above them. He opens the card and his brown-black eyes well with tears.

Jamal laughs. "Awww...Shee-it..." In addition, there was a heavy, hinged steel cockring and an Allen wrench in a ziploc bag.

At this point, the tall and muscular Nubian is sporting a massive erection and it takes several (and somewhat painful) attempts to enclose his cock and balls within the steel ring and fasten it shut. He grins at his amazing reflection as he slips the yellow thong over his massive bulge.

"Dayumm - Ah looks AMAZIN' !!" He does several competition poses in the mirror and then pulls the compression shirt over his head and proceeds to slip the jeans up his well-defined legs and over his muscular ass. Socks and sneakers follows and he leaves the room to find his brother.

* * *

Jamal exits the exam room and gives Phillips a crushing hug. 

"Thanx fo' ev'rything, Doc!" 

The two kiss and the younger Nelson waves to the staff. Jamal enters the waiting room and saunters over to DeWayne with a bright white grin on his face. 

"Hey Wayne! You likez da 'new an' improv'd' vershun ov yo' brutha?" 

The older Nelson stands up in happy surprise and the two muscular black men embrace.

"You lookz FAN-TASTIC, Jamal!!" He runs his hands down the silky material of the compression shirt and the plated muscled beneath, and stokes the massive arms of his younger brother.

"You lookz a little diff'rent than da las' time, but Ah still knowz itz you. Dayumm... you iz even mo'  fuckin' jack'd an' stack'd an' even betta lookin' !! Jace an' Deke are gonna be so happy when dey seez you!"

"Thanx fo' da card - dat reely meant a lot - alla you iz my family now..."

DeWayne gives him another kiss - this time harder and more insistent. His hand also moves to squeeze his brother's massive crotch.

"Ah thought it wood be great if we goez to the tattoo shop and getz you summ ink. Oba Davis runz Ndebele Needle an' he'z Changed too. Works reely, reely fast and you iz gonna heal inna hour o' so anyways. An' you cain alwayz add mo' when you wantz to...."

The older Nelson pulls a small brown bag out of his pocket and shakes it, jingling the contents.

"Ah also gotz you some steel braceletz an' some diamond studz fo' yo' ears.  We cain pick out summ ringz at da store too. Alla yo' new i-dentificay-shun iz at da apartment.Arriv'd dis mornin'. Jace text'd me whilez you was getting Chang'd."

"Soundz like a plan, Wayne ... I cain't wait t'see Jace an' Deke! Ah cain't wait t'get summ ink, too!"

He chuckles. "Dey cain't wait t'seez you, neither..." He pauses and gives his younger brother a wicked grin. " 'Cause we ALL iz gonna be limpin' t'morrow!!" 

* * *

Well, readers ... this little side trip worked wonders for my writer's block! 

The sequencing issues of the Chuy/Tito/Inti story resolved themselves and are firmly in my notes for going forward. I'll be the first to admit that this content itself is a bit thin - more continuing the story from the second part - but I hope the plot and the pictures were sufficient enough for you to enjoy!

Again, I am using the various available AI tools for some of the illustrations, with some tweaking in Photoshop to add items like the jewelry and tattoos.

 

No Pain, No Gain Part II

(For the Blogger censors ... this a work of FICTION - any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Language, situations and behaviors are only utilized within the confines of the post to enhance the story itself and do not represent any real-life circumstances in any way.)

Jaz was breached by his brother first - a sharp, intense pain that faded quickly and was replaced by waves of intense pleasure. DeWayne maintained a slow pace and sped up only when he was ready to explode. Deke and Jace followed. The other two men Changed by the blakformin compound proceeded to have slow but intense sex with the newly-minted muscle-brutha as well.

After the multiple penetrations, Jaz' tool was aching and purpled with lust. His large dark hand massaged his equipment as his ass dripped silvery cum onto the floor. "Jeez, Ah'm gonna explode..."

"Lemme help, bruh..." Wayne stretched himself over the dining room table and his dark rosebud invitingly winked at the younger man. Jaz lubed up, grabbed his brother's hips and thrust his thick and veiny ten inches into his brother's waiting hole. The new black man jackhammered the ass beneath him and howled as gushers of cum spill out of him and into DeWayne's guts. "Dayumm... dis iz fuckin' amazin' !!!"

 

Still rigid and panting with lust, Jaz pulled out. Jace gives his roommate's ass a hard slap. "Git up Wayne... me an' Deke needz dat cock too!" DeWayne painfully levered himself to a standing position and hobbled away as Jace takes his place stretched over the table. "C'mon Jaz - lemme feel dat big black fucktool up mah ass!"

Jaz repeated the performance with the other black man and after another massive load of jism was pumped into Jace's guts, turns to Deke. "Your turn, bruh!"

Jace and Deke exchanged places and the massive Nubian gives him a wink and wide smile, then stretched over the table as well.

* * *

After raping the other three, all four black men collapse onto the couch. Jaz gives the trio a bright white grin and giggles. "Shee-it..." After the temporary Change and the intense sexual encounters, the former white teenager realizes that being a black man is what he MUST become - this existence is too good to ever give up.

Jace gives the young man a soft kiss and proceeds to clamp a heavy hinged steel c-ring around his cock and balls. Jaz strokes his massive equipment and marvels at how the heft of the ring makes his package look and feel even more impressive. "R'member, bruh - we alwayz gotz t'show off our junk... jus' showz ev'ryone else wat dey iz missin...an' dat we iz alwayz reddy t'breed!"

Deke pushes himself off the couch - "Lemme see if'n Ah can find mah trial harness." The massive black bodybuilder limps into one of the bedrooms and the other men hear him muttering to himself as drawers open and slam shut

Jaz give the others a quizzical look? "Trial harness? Wat's dat?"

DeWayne puts an arm around the massive shoulder of his brother and grins. "You needz to wear a trial harness o' wristbandz since you ain't permanently Changed. Letz people know dat they gotta be mo' careful 'round you ... jus' fo' a bit. Tho if'n you gone this far, chances you iz gonna go fo' da perm'nent Change... but dat's da law..."

Deke returns with a lime-green leather harness and a pair of similarly colored leather wristbands, along with a darker green posing pouch, short white sox and a pair of combat boots. "This'll turn headz at da Adam Lounge. You iz gonna be a big hit, Jaz. Jus' you wait an' see!" 

DeWayne helps his brother into the harness and proceeds to wrap the bands around the other man's wrists and fastens them in place. Jaz sits down and slips the socks and boots over his feet. "Dayumm, dis feels so good bein' almos' nekkid..." 

 
His brother laughs. "An' you cain go to school jus' like dis ev'ry day an' no one cain say fuck 'bout it!"

The other men chuckle as well and don posing pouches that accentuate their muscular thighs and asses and then slip on socks and combat boots as well.

All four head out the door. As they are leaving the apartment, DeWayne stops. "Fuckkkk... wait a minnit.." 

He dashes back and comes back with two small padlocks. "Put out yo' wrists, Jaz." Jaz' brother proceeds to slip the locks through the posts on the wristbands and clicks them shut - in effect, making the wristbands non-removable without the keys.

"Dat's fo' yo' protec-shun since you iz one reelly handsumm fucker. We don' wanna hav no one takin' advantage ov you."

* * *

The streets are not crowded, but the people gawp at the quartet of powerful barely-clad Nubians brazenly sauntering along. 

Jace puts an arm around Jaz's waist as they walk along. "Ev'ryboddy wants t'be like us... but mos' don' got da ballz t'do it." The looks of lust, trepidation and envy continue as the four Nubians enter the subway and get on a train to their destination.

Half an hour later, the quartet join a queue of near-naked, powerfully muscled black men waiting to enter the sex club. Wayne, Jace and Deke are greeted by others on the line with deep kisses and major fondling; Wayne introduces Jaz as to the gathering crowd.

"Dis here is mah baby brother Jaz. We jus' gave 'im hiz trial dose of blackformin a few hours ago. He wantz t'see what bein' a black man cain reely be!"

The men whistle. "Dayumm ... dat is one hot lookin' muthafucka!"

Once inside the club, the four sidle up to the bar. Wayne waves the bartender over. "Chris, dis iz my baby bro - Jaz. He's only sixteen. Make sure dat no one givez him no alcohol, 'kay?" He turns to his brother and grabs him hard on the chin. "An' no cheatin' on yo' part, neither ... unnerstand? I seez you wiff one drink an' iz we outta here."

Jaz nods.

The bartender eyes the harness and gauntlets. "You got it bro ... dayumm, you is one reel BIG an' handsumm sumbitch, Jaz. Hope you decidez to stay da way you iz now!"

The bar is dark, but Jaz is amazed at the improvements in his vision - everything is bright and clear - almost like being in full daylight. 

As he moves thru the club, the muscular black giant gets fondled by other dark-skinned men - all showing big smiles - and offering multiple encouragements for a permanent Change. 

His sense of smell is also amazingly enhanced - he can sniff and distinguish the individual musk of each man as well as the overwhelming scents of lube, cum, alcohol and cigarette smoke wafting through the club. 

Hearing has heightened as well. Every "clink" of a glass, shuffle of feet and scrape of a chair is loud and clear, too. If he concentrates, he finds he can even hear and follow individual conversations from the other side of the room.

After wandering about in the sex club for a short time, Jaz finds himself in a room with leather slings suspended from the ceiling - many of them occupied. 

White, black and brown men are locked in the leather devices at wrists and ankles and a long line of nearly-naked black men are waiting to service the next available slingee. 

Each sling has a manager taking care of members standing on line as well as the occupant of the sling. 

Jaz walks over to an empty one - the sling's manager is a strikingly handsome muscle brutha with dreds. The manager gives the muscled Nubian a lascivious once-over - "Hey stud... you iz fuckin' HOT!!! How long you gonna be a brutha?"

Ah gotz changed jus' a few hours ago..." 

The manager nods. "You iz sexy as fuck, you know dat?"

 Jaz grins. "Thankx. It feelz amazin' bein' dis way..."

"How old iz you?"

Jaz opens his mouth, but feels an arm wrap around his waist and finds Jace next to him. His brother's roommate gives him a firm kiss and a look of panic skirls across the manager's face.

"Careful, Mikey... He's only sixteen. Dis is DeWayne's baby brutha. Be nice. Reel nice." His face hardens. "O' you iz gonna answer t'Wayne ... an' d'en to me and Deke afta you iz missin' summ fingas o' an eye..." Jaz shivers at the underlying vibe of casual violence and finds himself growing painfully erect within his steel prison.

He puts up his hands, obviously taking the threat seriously. "I'll take reel good care of him ... " He turns to the sixteen year-old. "You wantz to try dis out?" Jaz nods. 

"Okay - let's get you reddy. Pull off dat jock." Mike whistles when he sees the massive tool wrapped up in the heavy metal as it grows larger, thicker and harder. The manager assists him into the sling and fiddles with the restraints to lock them in place on his wrists and lifts each leg and wraps similar bands around the boots to keep his legs up and spread out.

The first man on line approaches and strokes Jaz's chest and abs, making delicate whorls on his pecs and across the plateaus and mesas of his shredded abdominals.  He is bald with a bodybuilder's chiseled physique and small gold hoops in his ears. The bodybuilder is wearing a black leather chest harness and a shiny black posing pouch. A thin coat of oil is spread over his entire body, making the ebon skin gleam in the subdued lighting. 

"Hey bro. Mah name's Dakarai. You lookin' fo summ fun?" 

The dark-skinned man strokes Jaz's thighs and the sling's occupant shivers in pleasure. 

"Dayumm... you is reel good-lookin ... and dat hole ov yo's lookz like it needz summ fillin..." Dakarai's finger rubs the captive's rosebud and massages the sensitive area between the heavy sac and the dark pucker. Jaz moans in pleasure as Dakarai grins at his response.

Mikey interrupts the interaction between the two. "Hey! See the harness an' wristbandz, bruh? He ain't madez a decision yet. He only got Chang'd a few hours ago. An' he's unner-age. No ruff stuff, no fistin', jus' give Jaz a nice deep dickin'..."

Dakarai nods as he continues to rub Jaz's rosebud as the two lock eyes. "Ah ain't fuckin' blind o' stoopid - Ah knows what da harness an' strapz mean. An' Ah nevva hurt no one... Ah jus' wanna givez dis handsumm young muthafucka a real good ride..." 

Mikey strokes Jaz's forehead. "You lemme know if anything hurts too much an' Ah'll make shure it stops."

The sling's manager tosses Dakarai a large bottle of lube. "Go fo' it."

* * *

Several hours pass. Jaz has been fucked by at least twenty men; all have been considerate and careful with him - some have been slow and gentle - others hard and fast - but he realizes now what his brother meant about the incredible intensity of gay sex. A number of men had also sucked him off and Jaz was surprised with the prodigious amount of manseed that he had been able to produce. The manager was as good as his word and made sure he had been comfortable and safe during the entire episode.

"Time's up, Jaz." Mikey unlocks him from sling and helps him up. "You had fun?"

"Plenty, Mikey. Thanx!!" The probationary black man pulls his jockstrap back on and limps back into the main area of the club. Jaz soon finds Deke at the bar. Chris fills a large pint glass with Coca-Cola and pushes it over to him with a friendly smile.

"Lookz like you enjoy'd yo' time in da sling, huh!"

"Ah did! I coodn't bee-lieve how fuckin' amazin' gay sex reely iz!"

Deke pulls him in for a kiss and slides his tongue down the young black man's throat. Jaz moans in pleasure as the black bodybuilder massages his still-aching cock.

"Dat it iz. But d'ere's even mo' to try... C'mon. Letz get you breedin' some slavebois."

* * *

Deke and Jaz travel further into the club to an area where well-muscled whiteboys are bent over padded sawhorses and locked in place. In a large holding cell, additional naked young muscular men nervously wait as a line of Nubians wait their turn to make their choice for breeding. Like the sling station, a manager is present to ensure an orderly process.

The black bodybuilder introduces the teenager to the manager in charge.

"Kofi, dis is DeWayne's little bro Jaz. He's been slingin' fo' a while tonite an' Ah wantz him t'get da full experience bein' a muscle-brutha. Big part ov dat iz fillin' up whitebois with lotsa black cum!!!"

"Sure thing, Deke!" He turns to Jaz. "Pick yo'self a boi t'fuck! Da onez in da cage are fresh meat dis week!"

"Hmmm..." He scans the various men in the holding cell and points one out."Dat one!" 

"Good choice, bruh!" Jaz has picked a well-muscled, ginger-haired young man with a leather collar around his neck. Kofi uses a cattleprod to stun the selected slave to the floor and two large black men open the cell and drag the twitching fuckboi to an empty bench and lock him down.  The manager then hands Jaz a bottle of lube. 

"Don' go easy wiff him, Jaz. He needz it hard an' ruff. Dat's wat all whitebois need - dey is jus' holez waitin' fo' brutha's t'fill up!!"

The probationary Nubian gives his massive tool a thick jacket of the oily material and squirts some up into the trembling hole. As he did with his brother and his roommates, Jaz grabs the young man's waist and thrusts himself balls-deep in one stroke. Jaz piston-fucks the captive as bolts of pleasure sizzle through him. I'm actually raping a white guy... and making this piece of meat my own property is absolutely mind-blowing! The muscular black man throws back his head and screams as he explodes within the muscle-puppy. Jaz continues to rape the ginger-haired captive as several more orgasms rip through him and fill the captive's guts. Jaz pulls out and leans against the wall to catch his breath.

Deke grins as Jaz pants and recovers. "Feel good?" The captive whiteboi moans and weeps as thick rivulets of cum dribble out of his tortured ass. Jaz is still hard and aching with lust.

"Oh hell, yeah!! Lemme do summ more!"

Kofi grins and spreads his hands to the other bound captives. "Take yo' pick!"

* * *

The four men slowly walk home around 4am - ebullient and satisifed, but all limping to some extent from the exertions of the day (and evening).

Wayne pulls his brother close. "You had fun bein' a brutha, Jaz?"

"Hell yeahhh ... I nevva thought havin sex wiff all of dem guyz wood feel sooo good! I nevva thought sex wood be dis good!"

 "How many guyz did you in da sling?"

" 'Bout twenny, twenny-five. D'en Ah pound'd 'bout fifteen whiteboyz multiple times. Ah didn't knowz Ah had it in me!"

Jace chuckles. "And DAT iz only wiff jus' da low dose ov blakformin you gotz. Jus' waitz till you  getz fully Changed. You seez wat you cain do bein' like dis?? Once you iz perm'nently Changed, wat you did tonite will be nuthin' compar'd to wat you iz capable of!

Jaz shakes his head in wonder. "Jeez Jace - Ah nevva imagin'd it wuz like dis..." The young black man's face sobers. "Fucckkk - momma an' daddy are gonna pitch a fit when Ah tellz 'em Ah'm gonna be jus' like  you, Wayne..."

Wayne gives his brother a deep kiss. "Welcumm to da club!"

* * *

I had originally been planning another Chuy/Tito/Inti story, but I'm having a few mental blocks when it comes to sequencing some events. One of the best ways of overcoming such obstacles is to shift the mental gears to something completely different and come back to the original problem. 

So that's what I did here.

The original "No Pain, No Gain" story used the premise of the pharmeceutical "blakformin" to change white/latino/asian men into hypermuscular gay black studs in addition to giving them many enhanced physical and mental abilities. The decision isn't always acceptable to the subject's family that goes for the Change, as was seen with the Newsome brothers and their parents. The original story was inspired by some of the artwork of Jenna Joviani and I felt that the illustrations needed a story despite the fact that I'd be violating the Law of Conservation of Mass in doing so.

This story picks up where the other left off; and thanks to the various AI products out there, there's a bit more imagery available to hammer home the story itself!