(This story takes place during the latter third of "Double Trouble" - before Tony's nightmare)
BENJIE
“You dunn reel good, Benjie – reel good. Ah’m fuckin' proud ov you…”
I had punch-fucked my first unwilling whiteboy tonight.
After all the handballing lessons,
(and practical experience of being fisted over and over by both my partner and Sarge) Ray had decided it was time for me to try it on my own. He had picked out a good-looking muscle puppy off the main floor of the club and had locked him in place bent over a padded sawhorse. I lubed his hole and stretched it open with first two fingers, then three. He started to scream when Ray had pulled a tight eyeless latex hood over his head and fastened a ball-gag into his mouth. My conquest moaned as I withdrew my fingers and again rotated them into his pucker.
“DO IT Benjie! Make 'im a brutha’s prop'ety!” Ray was grinning as I continued to loosen the assring before me. I smiled back as I covered my hand and lower arm in a thick coat of J-Lube; then I tucked my thumb beneath my fingers and ground my dark hand into the resisting hole.
The puppy shrieked into the gag as I violated him. I laughed as I saw his toes curl and his hands clench as my wrist was gripped tightly by the ring of his pucker and I experienced the thrill of accomplishment as I felt his insides pulse beneath my fingers.
“Keepz reachin!! Go fo' da elbow!” God, what a rush... I began to push against his defiance and I smiled as I saw more and more of my muscled, dark-skinned forearm disappear within him. The last few inches took some effort, but I beamed in triumph as my entire lower arm was now firmly embedded within the whiteboy's guts.
“You like dat, don’ you, puppy? You jus' got yo' handball cherry popp'd...” I stroked his back as he feebly twitched and sobbed beneath me.
“Feelz good havin’ a black man’s arm in yo' whiteboy gutz, don' it?” I stretched my hand open slowly within him and twisted around his innards. He perked up a bit as I tickled his slippery insides and then began to pull out. The puppy moaned louder and thrashed around as first my elbow and then my hand exited his body.
“Looks like he don’ wanna be empty, bruh… best fill 'im up agin…”
“Way 'head of you, Ray… Ah ain’t nearly dunn yet…” I covered my arm – up to my shoulder this time – with another thick coat of J-Lube and started again...
* * *
I fisted the puppy three more times before I was finished. The last time, I managed to have him swallow my bicep and I felt an amazing sense of triumph as my thick deltoid was nestled tightly against the cheeks of his muscular ass. Ray fisted him after that – up to his deltoid as well – and then removed the ballgag from his mouth. We left the whiteboy locked over the sawhorse and blinded for whatever action anyone else wanted to take.
The two of us proceeded to one of the Greasetank’s private rooms where Ray pulled out my buttplug and proceeded to slowly deep-dick me with his steel-shafted cock. We were dressed for action – leather harnesses and boots; leather jocks framing our dark muscular asses and snap-on pouches covering our ringed and plugged ebon horsecocks.
Ray kissed my neck and slowly pumped his thick dark nine inches already embedded up my chute. His chocolate arms tightened around me as he nibbled my ear.
"… but y’know, you gotz tah proove you gotz wat it takez tah STAY a muscle-brutha…”
“Huh?” My partner wrapped a dark leg around me and buried his cock further within my guts. I groaned in pleasure as the tip of his penis plug connected with my prostate.
“Bruh, you gotz t'proove you gotz NO conscience... o' limitz... when it cumm'z tah bein' a black thug… jus' fuckin' white meat ain’t enuff no mo', Benjie. You gotz tah be willin’ tah do shit dat cood getz you sent tah prison if'n you getz caught… likez Ah do now.”
“Wat 'chu doin', Ray? Ah cain't go back t'bein' jus' a whiteboy agin! Not afta bein' a brutha!” The two of us had talked to Zack about making our Conversions permanent; my pulse was hammering in my chest as I dreamed of taking the steps that would irreversibly complete my transformation not only into a
genuine black man - but a genuine black
felon - with my NYPD shield as the perfect cover.
“You 'member, Joao, don’chu? Well, he ain't da firs' whiteboy Ah kidnapp'd. Ah dunn plenty mo' an' sell ‘em wiff Adrian tah da highest bidder. Ah getz a nice chunk ov change frum human traffickin'. Itz even better when Ah samplez da merchandise afta d'ey getz nutted.”
“Fuuucckkk…” My prong had thickened and grown as Ray was describing what he was doing and it was now completely rigid with lust. He rubbed his dark, roughened fingers over the sensitive mocha skin of the head of my horsecock and toyed with the embedded penis plug as well.
“Ah knowz you kin do it, Benjie…” Ray's hand pumped up and down my shaft; as he reached the top, he twisted the steel embedded within me. It didn’t take long for my nuts to churn and an explosion of cum shoot out of the silvery tip.
“Wat Ah gotta do, bruh?” I panted as I recovered from the mind-ripping orgasm. Ray gave an evil chuckle and pulled me onto my knees. He grabbed my muscular waist and once again started pumping his engorged cock in my ass.
“Me an' Adrian will figger sumpthin’ out…”
* * *
Darren Ambrozek locked the door to the store and pulled down the security gate. The printing business had been in his family now for two generations and he would be damned if he was going to let Arkadiy and Dmitri Resnikov force him to move.
It had been very hard going - the other businesses and people in the neighborhood were terrified of the Russian brothers, but through a mixture of charm, fear and cajolery the handsome and well-built young man had managed to get almost all the signatures he needed to start the rezoning process and close down their operations. He had to visit a few more businesses tomorrow; it had been a long but productive Monday, and he was worn out. Those few could wait one more day.
He turned to the smaller door leading upwards to his apartment above the store and began walking up the stairs. As he reached the landing, the printer heard a slight noise. Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and held in an unbreakable grip. A rag was forced over his face and a sickly sweet odor assaulted his senses. In a few moments, the ethylene had accomplished its task and his body sagged limply into his assailant's arms.
* * *
Darren's consciousness returned like a reluctant lover. He found it difficult to focus his eyes and it took several minutes for his surroundings to register in his mind; he was in some sort of dilapidated industrial loft.
With a gasp, he found himself stark naked. His hands were cuffed together and connected to a chain thrown over a thick, horizontal pipe running the length of the room, and each ankle was manacled and chained to thick vertical stanchions as well. He was facing a large expanse of grimy glass panels and looking through the distortions, he could just make out his store across the street. Turning his head, he saw a video camera on a tripod facing him. His heart was pounding in his chest.
What the hell is happening to me?
A deep voice echoed in the gloom.
"Glad tah seez you all bright-eyed an' bushy-tailed, whiteboy." Darren twisted in his chains to see a huge, powerfully muscled black man sauntering towards him.
As he circled to face the young printer, Darren saw that the thug was nearly naked as well. Every muscle of his massive arms, rock-hard pecs and eight-pack abs were etched with incredible definition and his completely hairless body gleamed with a light coat of oil. His monstrous black horsedick and massive set of balls were surrounded by a thick steel cockring; powerfully muscular legs were shod in heavy black paratrooper boots with a fresh coat of polish and clumped on the concrete floor as his captor nodded in satisfaction at the state of his prisoner. A red baseball cap was perched at a jaunty angle on his shaved head and dark brown eyes - nearly black - gave Darren a lascivious once-over and a brutal smirk twisted thick lips. An extra-large industrial watch was clamped around a thickly muscled wrist and a leather belt slung low over trim hips held a large knife that gleamed in the dirty sunlight. Despite the situation, Darren blushed in shame as his manhood grew hard from a combination of terror and excitement.
"You been causin' too much trubble fo' summ people, Darren, an' Ah’m here t'make sure you don’ make no mo' ."
The black enforcer loped over to the video camera and flipped it on. He gave his prisoner a wide, white grin.
"Ah likez mementos ov mah work. Mebbe Ah'll makez you a copy. Mah name'z Benjie, by da way."
The African moved over to a table and picked up a bottle of Gun Oil. Sweat broke out on Darren's body as the Nubian hummed to himself as he poured a substantial quantity onto his massive cock, creating over it a thick, glistening jacket of lube. Benjie withdrew the wickedly sharp knife from its sheath and circled around the chained Ambrozek.
As in the stairway, Darren hissed in pain as his head was yanked back by his hair and swallowed hard as he felt the blade pressing against his throat. The huge black gang-banger slid the razor-sharp steel gently across the naked skin and the captive felt a trickle of hot liquid - his blood - dribble down his neck.
“Now, you gonna getz wat’s cummin' tah you fo' messin' wiff da Resnikovs. You kin showz me you knowz how tah please a muscle-brutha an' take wat Ah givez you, or Ah kin slice yo' throat open an' plow yo' dead ass. Don’t make no difference tah me – Ah’ll getz off rapin’ you bowff wayz." Benjie reached around and ran a rough hand up and down Darren's smoothly muscled chest and abs.
"Hmmm... Nevva fuck'd a dead boddy dat wuz still warm befo'... So... you gonna be a good boy? OR NOT?" The black felon dug the knife blade deeper into Darren's throat.
The captive young man panted in fear.
"Y-yes. I'll be good."
"Shee-it. Ah wuz haffway hopin' tah fuck a corpse..."
Benjie slipped the blade back into its sheath at his side and twisted his cap backwards on his gleaming skull. He then grabbed the trim waist of his captive and Darren felt the thick mushroom head of thug against his asscheeks for only a moment before the felon thrust brutally into his ass.
Ambrozek screamed as he was violated. The black gang-banger laughed as the shrieks rose in intensity as his massive tool tore the young man apart.
"Ah alwayz luvz poundin’ uptight whiteboyz. Jus' luvz gettin’ 'em loosened up right an' havin’ 'em unnerstand d'eir place az a Nubian's prop'ety."
Tears ran streaming down Darren's face as thug continued to piston his tool within him. The incredible pain faded a bit and without volition, the young printer began to move in unison with his violent rapist. After a particularly brutal thrust, Benjie paused and bellowed as Darren felt his guts scalded by the explosion of cum. Still deep within him, the thug then reached around and pumped the engorged tool of his prisoner. Darren shouted as well as an eruption of semen was torn from him and collapsed in his chains from exhaustion. Tears ran down his face in shame.
Oh God, I'm actually getting off being raped...
Benjie chuckled as he pulled out of his prisoner and then the black man slapped his ass. Hard.
"Nuthin' t'be ‘shamed ov, muscle-boy… Ah cood tellz you want'd it bad – jus' coodn’ admit you hadda hav yo' ass fuck'd by a black man. You knowz yo' place. You iz definitely showin' promiss az slave-meat."
The African dragged a low carton over to him and with a booted foot, kicked him onto it. There was barely enough give in the chains to allow him to kneel.
"Dat hole ov yo's be lookin' good – wide open an' drippin’ lube an' cum – jus' like it shood..." He paused.
"But it ain’t stretched wide 'nuff yet fo' you t'be considered prope'ty… so Ah'm gonna take care ov dat now." Darren moaned as he felt a thick digit penetrate his aching hole. Then two. Then three.
“Mmmmm… feelz good in d'ere…” Four fingers now invaded his pucker and caused the young man to again cry out in agony as his tortured hole was stretched even further.
Ambrozek wept.
"Oh God, please... please stop, Benjie... you're gonna kill me..." Despite the brutal treatment and incredible pain, a tiny portion of Darren's mind was enjoying the abuse he was suffering.
And that portion was growing by the minute.
"Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna stop ‘till you swallowz mah arm a few timez, whiteboy. Best getz used tah it." The dark-skinned fingers withdrew. Benjie circled and slapped his captive's face to show the thick coat of J-Lube being applied to his massively muscled arm.
"See dis? Itz goin' inside you. All da way." Tattoos danced on the deep brown skin like a demented chorus line as the entire arm was now covered in the slick envelope. The thug once again sauntered around to face the ass of his captive.
“Look out da window, Darren – da fun iz 'bout tah start!” The young prisoner saw a flash of orange appear in the upper floor of his building. Soon tongues of fire were visible in the windows and spread rapidly across his apartment.
“NO!!!!” At that moment, Benjie tucked in his thumb and thrust his hand completely into Ambrozek's tortured hole. The screams intensified into a banshee wail as young man was cleaved apart by the massive fist.
The gang-banger showed no mercy as he punch-fucked the printer.
God, I love being a brutha…this is what I should have always been, and thanks to Zack, this is how I'm going to stay... he looked on in complete satisfaction as his arm began disappearing into the captive’s body, and the building across the street was engulfed in flames; glittering orange highlights played over the shiny lube on his dark skin and the sweating and trembling body beneath him.
* * *
Darren's body shuddered (both in mental and physical agony) as blaze grew brighter; fire engines began to arrive and attempts were made to quench the three-alarm blaze without avail. Meanwhile, Benjie had gotten his arm past the elbow into his captive and stared dreamily into the rising conflagration as he massaged the innards of the chained man. The dark-skinned gangsta admired the ink on his glistening bicep as it strained to enter the unwilling body. The Nubian pushed harder and watched as the final remainder of his arm vanished into the man now grunting in pleasure below him.
“You iz one reel hungry asspig, Darren, you knowz dat? Now dat 'chu gotz a taste ov black thug sex, you ain’t nevva gonna be able tah live wiffout it.”
The tableau repeated itself multiple times. Cantrell continued to grind his arm into the new slave beneath him. After a while, he looked at his oversized watch and began to finally withdraw his limb from the captive. Once separated, the black muscle-man grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright once more. In shock, Darren stumbled and was only kept standing by the chains holding him prisoner.
Benjie proceeded to towel off the lube, slime, and blood covering his arm. Then he removed his cap and pulled a henley over his massive frame.
“An' don' try tah cash in on any 'nsurance, whiteboy. Da copz iz gonna find a check written out by you tah one ov da local firebugz.” He grinned.
“Dmitri wanted tah make sure you got fucked in da wallet az hard az you did up da ass.”
The gang-banger slipped on a pair of warm up pants and proceeded to pack up the video camera.
“Ah’ll let summboddy knowz you up here inna few hours…. And if'n you needz money, you kin alwayz work at da Greasetank az a slaveboi – one look at yo' ass now an' d'ey knowz wat you iz made fo'…” Cantrell pulled the cap back onto his head; his laughter echoed as he left Ambrosek in the cavernous space.
* * *
BENJIE
“A complete and total loss… thank you Benjie. Your idea of setting another fire just far enough away to make sure that there weren't any resources available when young Ambrozek's building went up was sheer genius.”
Arkadiy Resnikov smiled up at the dieseled black felon in front of him. He patted the video camera on the desk.
“And that was quite a performance between you and Darren. I understand he’s now a ‘person of interest’ in the arson investigation as well… It felt so deliciously apropos when he showed up at the club begging to hide from the authorities and became a fuck-toy for the clientele.”
Cantrell gave the club owner a bright white grin.
“Ah figgered it wuz good tah tie up da firemen wiff sumpthin' else. Glad tah help you out, Mista Resnikov.” Of course, I wasn't going to tell him that technique was something I adapted from the NYPD counter-terrorism manual...or the recipe for the incendiary devices came from there as well...
The Russian opened a drawer and took out a thick manila envelope.
“This is for you.”
The Nubian's eyes grew wide as he opened the package and thumbed thru the contents.
“Wow... T'ank YOU, suh!”
Resnikov gave him a crooked grin, exposing yellowed teeth.
“I think this is the beginning of a very profitable relationship for both of us – before you leave, check with Dmitri to see if there’s anything he needs to have done – and call me Arkadiy”
Cantrell bobbed his head –
“Ah will, Mis- Arkadiy!”
Ray was waiting for me outside the office. He was wearing a t-shirt pulled tightly over his powerful dark-skinned frame and his bald head glistened in the overhead lights.
“How’d it go, bruh?”
I showed him the envelope stuffed with $100 bills. My partner gave me a deep kiss.
“Shee-it, Benjie! Looks like you d'serve tah be a muscle-brutha fo' good! How duz dat feel?”
I laughed as I squeezed the muscular chocolate globes of his ass through the thin worn jeans he was wearing.
“Feelz EXCELLENT, Ray! Wonder wat Sarge iz gonna do when we tellz him we iz stayin' black?”
He gave me a big smile.
“Who da fuck carez? He cain't do nuthin' 'bout it!!” A wicked look crossed his African features.
“We oughtta party… you gotz time fo' summ suckin' an' fuckin'?”
My hand slipped down the front of his pants and gripped his swelling package.
“ ‘Course ah do! Who cood turn down an offer like dat?”
* * *
Okay, I said I wasn’t going to do any more of these "thug" stories for a while and that I wanted to concentrate on lighter topics. I am. I’m in the middle of a story involving Harry Treville tracking down a serial killer.
But I'm in a bad mood right now.
The concept behind this story occurred to me when I was going to bed one night. Charlie got himself involved in the human trafficking ring, so in order to make sure that Tony (as Benjie the thug) was as depraved as he had become, he had to force his partner to do something heinous. My problem here was that that “something” had to be bad, but not bad enough that Tony McLaren could not re-emerge as himself. I had already mentioned in “C-Note” that both Charlie and Tony had committed crimes as black men, but I never explained what crime(s) Tony had actually committed.
That was the major sticking point of the story. I definitely couldn’t do a murder; that would be past the point of no return. Robbery seemed to tame; he's already been involved in assaults; grand larceny did have some appeal, but the risk of being caught was too great. So I had to find some felony which would be bad enough to satisfy Ray, yet provide a small enough chance of being discovered. Arson - with battery and kidnapping - seemed to fit the bill. Once I settled on arson, everything else began to fall into place.
I feel now that I’ve really done everything I could now for this story concept. At some point, I may do the “Mission:Impossible” one, but that is going to be in the future. This also clears my head for finishing up the Treville story.
