In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Cash

(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.)

"You look a little green around the gills, Cash… you absolutely sure you want to go through with this? No harm, no foul…" The dark-haired artist gave the police officer a concerned look as he gently stroked the powerful shoulders.

Cash Ingraham shook his head, then wryly smiled. "Just nerves, Zack… what should I do first?"

Zack Gauthier chuckled. "Well, stripping naked is a good start…"

Ingraham pulled his t-shirt over his head and then sat down to remove his sneakers and socks. He then shucked down his jeans and jock; he noticed with  embarrassment that he was hard. And starting to leak.

Zack caressed the muscular torso. "Do you use Crawford's cream as well, or are you naturally this smooth?"

Cash shivered at the gentle touch. "I use the cream. I never had much to begin with, but haven't had to use any in the last six months. Nothing's grown since then."

Zack nodded in satisfaction. "I want you to understand that everything that we're doing here today is permanent… but completely reversible. Once you get Converted into a black man, you are going to stay that way until you - and/or Rico - decide otherwise. Let me explain the process for you. We're going to remove the hair from your face and head... and whatever else is left on your body... and basically put it to sleep - and you'll get artificial replacements in line with your new ethnic makeup. You'll get your features, fingerprints, teeth and footprints modified, your eyes recolored and your voice altered."

"In addition, you'll be getting some artificial memories to help the process along - these will make you react and respond more in line with the man you'll become, rather than the man you were before the Conversion."

Cash gulped, but nodded his agreement.

"So - let's start. Have a seat and let me buzz off your hair." Zack wrapped a barber's cape around him and turned on a pair of industrial clippers. The policeman felt the vibration of the shaver on his skull and watched as clumps of brown hair dropped off of his head and onto the floor. In a few moments, Zack stopped; he put aside the clippers and picked up a large container of lemon-scented cream.

"This stuff is going to remove your hair and put the follicles into the resting stage. They won't grow again until I re-treat the skin with the counter-agent and wake them up." Zack first spread Vaseline over his eyelashes and then smeared the thick cream over the non-existent stubble on his head and continued the process on his face and neck. He also covered the other man's smooth crotch and pits with the material as well. The transformation artist twisted a timer to 30 minutes. "Once this rings, go into the bathroom and wipe it off with a damp washcloth first, and then take a shower. Use the facial and body scrubs to get your skin nice and smooth to take the dye evenly."

* * *

Cash left the industrial bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist; his prong had grown even larger and more painfully engorged when he saw his completely smooth, hairless (and browless) self in the mirror; it was tenting the front of the thick, plush material as he came back to Zack. On a tray were two hypodermic needles.

"Now, I'm going to give you two shots. The first one is going to loosen any inhibitions and amp your sex drive. It's also going to make you much more sexually demanding and versatile…" He chuckled. The other shot is going to sort of knock you out for a little while - not more than 60-70 minutes. This is going to let me set up the mental aspects of your Transformation which I'll activate once we're all done with the physical parts of the process. So far, so good?"

"Uh-huh. Let's keep going."

Cash sat down and Zack wrapped a rubber tube around his upper arm and pulled it tight. "Make a fist and squeeze…. Ahhhh... good." In a few moments, a vein popped up.  The artist grabbed one of the syringes from the table and slid it into the waiting vessel. After a few moments, Cash felt a flush of heat sweep through him, but not much else. "This next shot is going to put you into a extremely suggestible hypnotic state. You probably won't exactly remember what we'll be doing from now on. Ready?"

Cash nodded and Zack inserted the second needle into his vein. He removed the rubber tube from the powerful arm and walked around to massage the muscular shoulders. "Relax, Cash. You're so tense. You're going to really enjoy the finished product…. how are you feeling?"

"OK… a little hot… and sorta slightly lightheaded…"

"Close your eyes for me, bud…" The hazel-green eyes closed and he took a deep breath and let it out.

"Okay, Cash - first thing is set up some safeguards for you, for me and the guys at the precinct. As long as you are a black man, you will no longer be able to respond to your given name of 'Cash Ingraham' … you will only respond to the name 'Jackson Thomas' or any of its variants. You also will be unable to sign your original name in any recognizable fashion to any legal document or check unless you are completely alone.  This is so you can write out bills and stuff. You also will be completely unable to discuss your Transformation with anyone except me and the other guys at the Four-One. Lastly, if you are arrested or detained  by any law enforcement official in any capacity, it will be impossible for you to state who and what you used to be before your Transformation - your sole expressible identity will be that of the black man you will become in a short time. You okay with this?"

"Yeah…that makes sense..."

"Excellent. In addition, as long as you are 'Jackson Thomas', you will have all the memories of your former life available to you, but they will feel a bit disjointed; sort of like they belong to another person. And they do - they belong to a white guy named 'Cash Ingraham' - not YOU - a black man named 'Jackson Thomas'. You also will think and comprehend at the same level you do now, but you will speak with an ethnic dialect, with coarser language that's in line with a lower-quality education and a non-commissioned military background. You WILL be able to speak as the white police officer you were when you are in your NYPD uniform, but that ability will become less and less acceptable to you the longer you stay Converted.  You with me so far?"

Cash muttered. "Yes, Zack…"

"You're doing real well, Cash… real well. So… all of these things will take effect when you hear me say the words 'Superman', 'Empire' and 'Avocado' in that order. Hearing those words will also open some additional memory pathways in your mind and those pathways will be activated when you hear a trigger phrase. That trigger phase is going to be implanted as well. When I tap you hand three times, you are going to open your eyes and forget everything I've told you until you hear those three special words. We're done." He tapped his hand three times and the hairless patrolman opened his eyes.

"That's the hypnotic taking effect. C'mon - follow me."

Cash stood up and paced after Zack as the two men moved deeper in to the warehouse. The artist opened a door to another, smaller, dimmer room and ushered the naked police officer in. The room contained two chairs, a padded bench, a computer and a large white machine that looked like a giant pair of binoculars.

"Have a seat." Cash sat in front of the machine, while Zack attached several electrodes to his now-bald skull.

"Cash, 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 other man nodded and followed the directions. Cash settled himself in the chair and pressed his face to the padded area surrounding his eyes. A kaleidoscopic brightness filled his field of vision, 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 on the computer screen as the artificial memories were compiled, formatted and transmitted through Ingraham's optic nerves directly into his brain. The sensors he had attached onto the other man's head were showing the synaptic activity increase as the memories were assimilated. In a short time, he would continue the physical process of converting the white cop into a black criminal.

* * *

Cash woke up. He found himself in a darkened room on a padded couch. There was some electronic equipment in the room with him, but he had no idea how long he had been asleep or for that matter, how he had gotten here in the first place. The last thing he remembered was Zack giving him the shot and the rest of whatever had happened was a blur. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. His slightly rough fingertips encountered the perfectly smooth skin of his face and scalp and he marveled at the sensation. At that moment, the door opened and Zack stepped in, a broad smile on his stubbled face.

"Enjoy the nap?"

The patrolman chuckled. "How long was I out?" He stopped in shock at his newly deeper voice.

"About 45 minutes. I took care of some of the easy stuff while you were unconscious. Ready to continue?"

"You bet!" He stood up and his towel dropped to the floor. He threw it over his shoulder and sauntered naked out of the room, his cock hardening almost instantly as he hungrily watched Zack's tight rower-clad ass move in front of him.

* * *
The two men returned to the main area of the large warehouse where a number of massive, boxy machines were placed. In addition, a large table took center stage, with the back half of a head mold on its surface and the matching half suspended above in a framework of gears and chains.

"I tinted your lashes while you were asleep. I also put the eye dye in as well. We need two final applications to get the right intense brown-black you need. Sit down and tilt your head back."

Cash complied and Zack pulled down the lower eyelid and instilled a drop in each eye.

There was a slight burning. "Close your eyes and count to sixty." After that, Zack dabbed the excess fluid from the other man's eyes.

"We're going to do you footprints first." The artist pulled on a pair of rubber gloves that had a shiny metallic gleam and proceeded to rub a thick cream into the other man's feet. Shortly after, the skin took on a waxy and pallid hue. Zack wheeled over a large box and opened the hinged top to show two molded footprints inside. "Step right in, bud…"

Ingraham slipped his feet into the box and settled his toes into the appropriate positions. Zack closed the top and pressed a few buttons on the side. Cash felt a pressure build up on his skin that was just short of painful. That pressure remained steady for about fifteen minutes, during which time Zack instilled the final set of eye drops. The pressure dropped and quickly released. Zack opened the box and motioned him to remove his feet.

"They don't look any different…" The skin was back to it's normal healthy color.


Zack grinned. "But they don't match the prints on your birth record any longer…"

Hands followed a similar process. Finally, it was time for the facial remolding. The transformation artist slathered the cream all over his face, scalp, ears and neck. Once the substance had done its work, Zack motioned Cash onto the table and helped lay his head comfortably in the mold.

"Hey! This is soft!" The mannequin-like face expressed a faint semblance of surprise.

"Nope, that's fiberglass and plaster. It's your head that's soft now. I'm going to put some tubes in your nose to assist with the remolding and let you breathe during the process. You're going to be in complete darkness for about twenty minutes as the restructuring takes place. I'll be right here with you, so don't panic." Zack turned a large wheel and the upper mold slowly descended, covering the policeman's face until the two pieces met.

Zack moved over to the control console and the two halves sealed together with the hiss of hydraulics. Zack watched as the pressure gauge slowly rose to 15 pounds per square inch and leveled off. He then returned to the table and took Cash's hand in his own. Zack gasped at the bone-crushing grip and used his free hand to gently stroke the prone man's heaving chest. Slowly the panicked grip's pressure decreased and the breathing evened out, but the dark-haired artist continued to trace gentle designs on the slabbed pecs and washboard abs as the process continued. Finally, a buzzer sounded and a green light flashed atop the console. Zack watched as the pressure gauge's needle dropped and then the two halves unsealed. He withdrew his hand and used the wheel to separate the blocks.

"Damn, that felt like Ah had mah haid inna vise…" Cash shook his head in amazement as a gentle ethnic drawl had been added to his deeper voice. He reached up to feel the results of Zack's transformation; his brow ridge definitely felt thicker, and his nose and lips had gained a new fullness as well. That must be where the accent is coming from.

Zack smiled at his new creation. "You did. Just like Uncle Fester! Next step is darkening your skin!"
 

* * *

"When are you gonna lemme see da new me, Zack?" Cash's skin had received the nanotech dye and he was now sitting in a modified barber chair as the artist airbrushed the coloration to the strip of his feet that had been covered by the platform. The former white policeman was no more; in his place was 'Jax Thomas' - a light skinned, hard-looking black man. The Converted Nubian was incredibly handsome, but still looked a bit … unfinished… due to the fact he had yet to receive any of his artificial hair. Jax wore a thick steel c-ring which he had slipped onto his equipment after the coloration had fully dried and his dark-skinned hand was now idly stroking his massive erection as the artist continued his work.

"When you're all done, bud. We still need to complete a few more things before you can see yourself. I want you to get your first impression with the total package. Did you tell AJ you were doing this?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No, Ah didn't.  Ah'm gonna surprise 'im Monday at roll call. Ah'm gonna surprise everybody at roll call!"

"Be right back." Zack jogged around the corner and came back holding a small box. With a flourish, he opened it to show a pair of solid black contact lenses. Jax gave him a puzzled look.

"Wat are those for?"

The artist grinned. "Well, I said I didn't want you to see yourself until I was done, and it's come to a point where I need you in front of a mirror. I don't want you scrunching your eyes closed, and I don't want you to peek… so blackout lenses."

"You are one sneaky bastard, Zack…." Jax couldn't help but smile at the other man's inventiveness.

"Lean back, handsome - and open those beautiful dark eyes wide for me…" The artist reclined the chair and the black man settled himself into the cushioned back and headrest. He saw a dark circle approach his face and then blinked as it was placed into his eye.

"Feel okay?"

"Yeah - doesn' even feel like there's anything in mah eye…"

"Good. Sit still." The process was repeated and Jax was now in complete and utter blackness.

"Can you see anything?"

He grinned sightlessly at the other man. "Not a damn thing, you sonofabitch…"

Zack kissed his forehead and shifted the chair back into an upright position and wheeled Cash a short distance, then stopped.

"Hair next!" With that, the dark-haired artist began to smooth some cool lotion over the seated man's face and scalp.

"Wat's dat?"

"It's a magnetic suspension. The artificial hair is going to drop into your empty shafts and this stuff helps guide it in."

Jax felt something soft, smooth and stretchy being pulled over his scalp; several times it was lifted up and readjusted - the same process occurred on his upper lip, jawline, browline and throat.  After a few minutes, he felt an overall itching sensation across all the areas Zack had rubbed with the lotion. He reached up to scratch, but the other man moved his hand away.

"Damn … that stuff feels like it's pokin' me…"

"That's the nano-fins aligning into the follicles." He pressed a metal cylinder into each of Jax's hands and wrapped an elastic band over the back of each. "You're going to feel a little shock - that's going to anchor the hair into your face and  head. On three. One … Two … THREE!"

"OUCH!" The newly converted black man felt a brief, sharp pain on his head, face and throat.  Zack removed the cylinders from his hands and the next sensation he felt was a hot, damp sponge rubbing gently on his face and head.

"I'm removing the gel that held the hairs in place before they got anchored. Once I clean you up, we've got one more step to go, and then we're done."

* * *

"OK, Cash … stand RIGHT there… and relax…" Zack had guided the sightless man under a large metal arch and pulled down two elastomer bracelets connected to cables. He fitted them in a crosswise fashion onto the muscular wrists and stepped away to make some adjustments on another computer console a few feet away. Jax suddenly felt some tension on the bands and allowed his arms to rise to shoulder level.

"A large portion of you fellas love getting extensive inking now, so you are standing in a computer-controlled tattoo station. Just like your skincolor, the tats won't be coming off until the counter-agent is applied, but I've found it's easier for the subject - YOU - not to have to hold your arms up and get worn out. Plus, standing up allows me do the front and back at the same time. You feeling okay?"

"Nevva felt better, Zack…"

Jax heard a slight whirring, then felt multiple, feather-light points dance across his torso, arms and neck. The process was slow, but extremely relaxing and the captive man was glad of the supports holding up his powerful arms. He must have dozed off standing up; he stumbled as Zack was removing the wristbands; the utter blackness he was experiencing obviously hadn't helped him from falling asleep.

"Are we done?"

"We are … take my hands." The transformation artist guided the newly-made black man back to the modified barber chair and reclined the back once more.

"Eyes wide…." He removed one blackout contact, then the other. Jax blinked as his vision was restored and his surroundings came back into focus. He looked down at himself.

"Mutha ov God…" Amazingly detailed blackwork crawled down his powerful arms; similarly detailed inkings covered his slabbed pecs and framed his washboard abs; another elaborate tattoo sinfully highlighted his crotch.  He stroked his arms and chest and reached down to stroke his tool that had swelled to gigantic proportions within the steel c-ring.

"C'mon, stud - time for the big reveal - mirror's around the corner…"

* * *

JAX

I was speechless. I stared at myself in the tailor's mirror and my darker-skinned hands reached up to feel the new features of my face; there was a small scar under my right eye which added an incredible amount of sinister character to the new me. My skin was a light brown; my features were strong, arrogant and more than slightly cruel. My short curly black hair was cut in a severe tight fade, and I had well-trimmed, razor-edged stubble on my cheeks and throat. I felt the thin mustache on my upper lip and trailed my fingers across the ink on either side of my neck. I turned to see further incredibly-detailed  tattoos on my back; the letters "ESC" in large gothic script spread across my shoulders with a pair of charging bulls beneath it. Right above my ass, the year '1985' in Roman numerals crawled across my tight waist to nearly connect with the blackwork running down my serratus muscles and obliques. The detailing was beautiful - it also had the patina and slight edge softness of work that had been done some time ago.

"Ah cain't bee-leeve it … " The blazing lust that had been building within me erupted. I stroked my tool and pumped myself in the mirror, watching a hypersexed, heavily-inked black man grin back at me. Suddenly, I threw my head back and screamed as load after load of silvery cum exploded from my cock and splattered the mirror from top to bottom.

I leaned heavily against the mirror's frame, gasping for breath. I glanced sidelong at the dark-haired artist. "Dayummm…. That wuz da best jerk-off Ah evva had…"

Zack grinned. "Another satisified customer, huh?"

"Oh hell, yeah. This is incredible, Zack. Ah nevva thought it would be like dis…"  I continued to stroke my body while grinning at my "new and improved" self in the mirror.

"Cash?"

I turned to the other man.  "Superman. Empire. Avocado."

I swayed on my feet and my brows knit in confusion. "Whoa… Ah felt real dizzy fo' a minnit … Wat da fuq jus' happen'd?"

"I just kicked in the mental safeguards. Who are you, again?"

"Jax Thomas…" I  paused at what came out of my mouth without thinking. "Shee-it!!!"

"As of right now, you are completely unable to respond to your original name. You are also going to speak like a low-life ghetto rat as long as you're out of uniform, and you can't talk to anyone about your Transformation except me and the other guys at the Four-One. Also, if you're not careful and get arrested, you can't tell anyone who and what you used to be. The only 'you' is who you are NOW."

I shook my head. "Dayumm … dat iz summ wikkid shit you dunn tah mah haid…" I paused at how my language and cadence now perfectly matched the man in the mirror. I shook my head in amazement.

"By the way, what's your name, rank and serial number?"

"Oh, sweet Jeezus…" I leaned heavily against a chest of drawers as a flood of memories washed over me - all in absolutely frightening detail.  I remembered every event of my childhood in Detroit  and growing up black; I recalled my years in high school playing football and the chance I had to join the Marines. I flashed back to boot camp; I remembered my deployments in Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan; I relived  my court martial - and my time spent in the military prison at Camp Pendleton - and finally my dishonorable discharge. I remembered people, sounds - even scents - of my life as 'Jax Thomas' - and my life as it was now - doing personal security work for the criminal elite and contract killings for the highest bidder.

"Dayummm … Ah'm a fuckin' hitman…" I couldn't believe it.

Zack was grinning from ear to ear. "Rico said you deserved something special, so I went out of my way to make you the perfect criminal inside and out."

"Ah 'preciate dat …" I was still  horny as hell and stalked over to the black-haired artist. I trailed a finger down the crevasse between his muscular pecs and gave him a wicked smirk. "An' lemme show you 'xactly how much Ah mean dat…" I grabbed a bottle of lube off the shelf and pushed him over the chest. I pulled down his rowers, covered my horsecock with a thick coat of Gun Oil and rammed my tool up his chute.

He gasped as I breached him; I gripped his trim waist as I started a punishing rhythm of jackhammering his ass. The dark-haired whiteboy moaned in pleasure every time my massive tool connected with his prostate. Whiteboy??? My God... this conversion was absolutely terrifying in it's perfection....

"You get off onna nice, deep dickin', huh??"

"Oh, hell yes ... oooohhhhh, Jesus Christ... you guys certainly know how to fuck a guy's brains out..."

I laughed at that. "Yeah, dat we do..." I wonder if he meant the other guys at the Four-One or muscle bruthas in general... but at this point it didn't matter...my overwhelming need to breed his ass raw was all I could think about. I kept up the whipsaw motions until I felt my nuts churn again and I exploded within him. My vision started to go black at the edges with each load of cum I pumped into Zack's guts. I stopped counting after four. Finally, I was spent. We both were. I pulled out and gathered the whiteboy in my arms and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

"C'mon Zack - we iz goin' upstairs an' chillax fo' a while..." I threw him over my shoulder and patted his ass as we climbed the stairs to his loft.


* * *
JAX
A Few Hours Later

I unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped in. After a long walk to the station, I had taken the subway back from Zack's place and I couldn't believe how aroused I had gotten by the none-too-furtive sexual looks I had garnered; between the thick metal c-ring I was wearing, the lack of A/C in the subway car and the rape fantasies that swirled around my head looking at the handsome muscle puppies that were eyeing my half-naked and inked body, my cock was hard as a steel I-beam and was making an obscene bulge in my snug jeans. My self-confidence had skyrocketed with my conversion into a black man.

"CASH?? Izzat you? Jeezus fuckin' Christ..."

I spun around to see AJ sitting up on the couch. Except for a pair of beat-up Corcorans and his own thick steel around his junk, he was buck naked and staring at me in absolute shock.

"Mah name iz 'Jax Thomas' now, AJ ... an' Ah'm glad you likez wat you seez... By da way, how da fuq did'chu get in??"

He tsked. "Ah cooda used mah key, but you forgitz alreddy dat Ah wuz convict'd fo' burglary? Ah pick'd da lock... just' fo' practiss... Ah figured Ah would cum ovva an' give mah fayv'rit whiteboy a good ass rapin', but dat lookz like dat ain't gonna happen no mo'..."

AJ jumped off the sofa and ran his dark hands down my inked arms. I was wearing a loose string tank and a tight pair of jeans with a baseball cap backwards over my head. I pulled him close and gave him a rough kiss then proceeded to strip. God, I couldn't wait to get naked... If this was one of the effects of that shot Zack gave me, I couldn't wait to see what else it was going to do... Everything came off except my own boots. There was just something absolutely carnal about a naked man in combat boots and a cock ring... even more so when he was a brutha.

"Jeez ... you iz so fuckin' HOT as a nigga, C-Jax..." His ebon horsecock was hard and dripping... as was mine... and he pulled me close so our tools were pressed tightly against our cut and jacked rock-hard abs.

"You likez it?" His hands cupped my ass and kissed me again.

"Ah luvz it! You wuz so right 'bout becummin' a brutha! Dis iz da way Ah shooda alwayz been!" I fondled his butt and felt for the button of his plug. He moaned as I twisted it within him.

"Ah wanna getz dat piece o' meat up mah ass..." I kissed him again. "But letz make dis an okay-shun tah celebrate... me becummin' a black man an' all..." I gave him a wicked grin.

"Getz summ pantz on... Ah gotz an idea..."

The two of us pulled on some shorts and I grabbed a go-bag filled with lube and other items before we left the apartment. As a cop, Cash had been given a key to the freight elevator, and 'Jax Thomas' was taking full advantage of that right now.

We waited until the elevator clanked up to my floor and once we entered, I pressed the "B" button. "Where we goin' ?" AJ was nuzzling my neck and I had one hand around the back of his head and the other down the seat of his cutoffs.

"Jus' wait an'  see..."

Finally, we got to the basement and I motioned my partner to follow me through the overcrowded and dusty maintenance room until we got to a large, metal door. I took another key out and opened it to the service corridor behind the building. At 4am, the alley was dead quiet; the brick walls were dimly lit with a combination of a few service bulbs and streetlights from the far end of the alley that led onto the street. I started to strip.

AJ looked surprised. "We gonna do it out HERE?"

I chuckled. "Yeah ... didn' you lissen when Benjie an' Daaron wuz sayin' dat back-alley sex wuz da best??"

"Ah did ... Shee-it ... you really gettin' inta dis qwik, ain'tchu??" AJ pulled down his pants and grabbed a bottle of the lube. He gave me a hungry look and before I knew it, I was in a wrist lock - my arm was twisted up and around my back and my face was squashed against the brick wall.

He licked my ear. "Yo' ass iz MINE, Jax... you iz nevva gonna forgitz to-nite's butt-fuckin'..." With that, he rammed all nine inches of his horsecock up into my chute. Obviously, AJ had been holding back when we were together before; now that I was a genuine black man, there was a new sense of obsession and ferocity in his pounding of my ass. All throughout the rough sex, he kept me pushed against the wall and kept twisting my arm in rhythm with his thrusts. The constant pain was getting me more amped than I had ever been before.

"Fuucckkk!!!!" He screamed into the night as he pulled me into him and I felt my guts fill with the hot warmth of his seed. He let go of me and pushed me away. I stumbled and almost fell into a pile of trash cans. Furious, I spun around to see AJ grinning like a madman with his hands on his hips. He grunted as he pulled the plug out of his ass and laid it on top of a dumpster. He motioned me over to him.

I stalked over to the young thug and grabbed him by his jaw. "Nigga, itz time fo' me ta fuckz you BLIND!"

* * *

I spun AJ around and grabbed a pair of cuffs with rubber grommets that had been in the bottom of the bag. Before he knew it, the street-hustler had his hands latched behind his back and I pushed him hard onto a large Rubbermaid trash container.

"Jax, bruh ... wat you doin' ta ..." He started to rise up and to turn around and look at me.

"SHUT DA FUQ UP!!" I roared and slammed him back onto the rubbery top of the container. I slathered my tool in a thick sheath of lube and grabbed the cuffs like a handle; with one powerful yank, I impaled him balls-deep onto my cock.

My partner screamed as he was split open and I used his arms as a lever as I rode him mercilessly. I was experiencing a massive sexual high as I violated him; undoubtedly it was due to a combination of Zack's chemical enhancements, his psychological reprofiling of me and the sheer thrill of raping someone in a public place - nevertheless, I continued to jackhammer his innards until I came within him - from the force twisting my balls and the time exploding inside of AJ's guts, I must've spewed a load that was even larger than the one that had covered Zack's entire mirror with cum. My head had been thrown back as my seed flooded his core; out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of light from the darkened building above me. I pulled the both of us - my horsecock still embedded up his ass - into the shadows and looked up - a light had come on a few stories above us and the window opened up to display the angry mien of a bald-headed old man.

If you don't want to be seen, don't move. I remembered that mandate from my Special Forces training. With a start, I realized that that came from Jax's memories, not those belonging to my previous identity as a white man.

AJ was panting like a dog as I clapped my hand over his mouth. "Quiet, AJ... don' move..." The old man continued to look down into the service alley, but we were invisible; after a few minutes, the window closed and soon after, the light went out again. I waited a good ten minutes before I pulled out and slammed AJ's butt plug back into his ass. I picked up our clothes and the two of us headed back inside.

Once I locked the door to the street, AJ spun around, fury in his dark eyes. "Wat da FUQ wuz you thinkin', Jax? If'n dat ol' man call'd da cops, we cooda gotz arrested! Dis ain't Four-One territory!!" He began cursing me - the more foul-mouthed he got, the bigger the grin on my face became.

Finally, he ran out of steam and started to chuckle.

"God-damn, dat wuz da bes' sex Ah evva had!" AJ was grinning at me as he caught his breath. It was so arousing... and so appropriate... seeing a powerfully built, naked black man in restraints. He looked down at my cock; I was hard as a rock and leaking... again.

"Yeah... me too." I gave him a long, deep kiss. "But da fact it wuz you made it even mo' speshul..." The risk of being jailed did the same for him; I pulled some baby-wipes out of the bag and cleaned myself off. I put our clothes in a pile on the floor and gently pushed AJ onto his knees. "Suck me off, bruh... Ah gotz all horny agin frum da rush ov nearly gettin' caught..."

The young thug smiled as my horsecock approached his lips. He opened wide and I slipped my thick rod down his throat. Holding his head lightly in my hands, I thrust gently in and out until another gusher of cum spilled out of me.

AJ licked a bit of silvery jizz off the corner of his mouth. "Dayumm... dat wuz sooo fine... noboddy throat-fucks like you do, Jax..."

"Flatt'ry getz you ev'ryware, AJ..." I stepped behind him and unlocked the cuffs from his wrists; then I helped him up. I noticed that he was sporting another raging hardon as well. I tossed him the cuffs and put my wrists behind my back; he didn't waste any time fastening them onto me and pushing me down into a similar position. AJ lubed himself up and I licked his thick head and shaft as he slowly pushed it into my mouth and down my gullet. He took his time as well, and after several minutes of slow R&B thrusts, a thick load of his seed scalded my throat. After he pulled out, I sat back on my heels and grinned.

"You taste like chikken...."

We both laughed. My partner helped me to my feet and we proceeded through the dusty room and back to the service elevator. By this time, night had passed and the early morning sun was up. He gave me another wicked grin. I was still handcuffed.

"Letz see if we can getz back to yo' 'partment nekkid wiffout gettin' caught!"

* * *

The following night, AJ brought me to the Greasetank. I had known about the hardcore S&M sex club, but I had never gone there; Charlie (as Ray-Ray) had "discovered" it, and now, a lot of the fellas - Converted or not - frequented the place on a regular basis.

Courtesy of Zack, I was dressed in a pair of tight leather codpiece pants with a hidden zipper between my asscheeks; my steel-shod junk made an obscene bulge that the snap-on pouch was barely able to contain, and a leather "300" harness accented my shoulders. AJ was in a bulldog harness and an overstuffed leather jock; we both had our black Corcorans polished to a mirror finish.

The club was an absolute revelation to me; as AJ explained the magnitude of sexual perversions available within the venue, I felt myself grow even harder. He trailed a dark hand across my jaw and a finger stroked the deep crease between my pecs and down the mesas and valleys of my six-pack. "Ain't no limitz here, Jax ... hav summ fun an' Ah'll catch up wiff you later..."

And I did ... I raped my first anonymous whiteboy that night - I  bent him over a wooden cube, my hand on his neck  - and just rammed my tool up his ass and pumped until I came.

I did another guy completely encased in black rubber - that was a complete and total mindfuck as I held onto his trim ebon waist and watched as my horsecock thrust in and out of his sheathed asshole. My sexual abilities (and drive) were indeed unbelievably amped - then I skullfucked three Latino muscle puppies and the amounts of cum that exploded out of me could have filled a gallon jug.

Finally, I needed a break; I strode over to one of the bars to get something to drink. The barback came over and gave me a hungry smile. He was in a leather vest and white jock. I gave him an equally wolfish grin and ordered a Courvoisier. After a short time, I felt a finger slide down my sweaty back and I shivered in pleasure as AJ stood next to me.

"Havin' fun?" He grinned. During my own escapades, I had seen my partner bound into a sling with a long line of heavily-muscled alpha males waiting to get a piece of his ass.  I had been surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy (instead of outrage) at the scene, but now given my own primal lusts, I understood completely how badly his raging appetites needed to be slaked.

I took a sip of  my drink. "Dis place iz fuckin' AMAZIN', AJ!! Ah cain't b'leeve it! Shee-it ... Ah cood stay here da rest ov mah life!"

He grinned. "Yeah... da Greasetank iz da best. Ain't no otha place in da city tah getz yo'self off da way you needz it..."

"Dis yo' firs' time here? Looks like you wuz really gettin' on wiff dat rubbaboy..."

A deep voice spoke from my other side. My mouth dropped open as I stared into Rico Landry's grinning face. "... an' dat's some fine lookin' ink you iz wearin'... wat's yo' name?"

Wait... that's not Rico. The face was slightly wider and the lips and nose were a slightly different shape as well. This guy also had a tat on his elbow. The man quirked a dark eyebrow.

"Wat's da matter? Lookz like you jus' seen a ghost o' sumpthin..."

AJ chimed in. "Hey Adrian!! Ah miss'd you at da sling-stayshun... I wuz hopin' t'get dat monsta cock ov yo's up mah ass to-nite..."

Adrian? AJ laughed. "You gave Jax a shock - dat's all. You an' Rico look like bruthas..."

It was Adrian's turn to chuckle. "Yeahhh... mah evil twin... you know Rico?"

I nodded. "Mah name'z Jax. Jax Thomas."

"Adrian Weaver." The other man was dressed in tight leather chaps and a body harness whose main strap disappeared into a bulging leather jockstrap. He continued giving me a hungry once-over and his face broke out in a wide, white smile as he caught me examining his crotch.

He pulled me into a hard kiss as his hand wrapped around my head. "Let's go an' fuck. Dat ass ov yo's iz makin' me crazy..." At this point, I was swamped by waves of white-hot lust and my only thought was getting his massive black prong up my ass. Adrian's dark hand wormed it way down the front of my leathers and squeezed my junk. "... an Ah cain't wait t'get dat snake ov yo's down mah throat neither..."

* * *

AJ and I were both limping badly when we got to the station house on Monday. I was greeted with numerous hoots and catcalls - in addition to deep kissing from the other bruthas that involved a good amount of tonsil hockey - as I put a piece of masking tape with "Thomas" over the name on my locker. I got even more attention as I stripped and my extensive ink was visible. I was wearing my harness as well.

Benjie ran his dark hands down my flanks. "Shee-it ... you iz one handsum muthafucka...." He raised a dark eyebrow.

"Jax." I answered the unspoken question.

"... 'Jax Thomas'... Day-umm... dat's one sexy fuckin' name too..." He pulled me into his arms licked my ear. His hand trailed down my back and squeezed my asscheeks. I groaned as his fingers found the button of my ass plug and started to twist it. I did the same with him; we were both ready to run into the showers and fuck ourselves senseless when I was suddenly pulled off of him and was spun around to find myself facing a pissed-off Rico Landry.

Dark brows shot up from his green-hazel eyes and his bearded face split into a wicked grin. "Fuucckkk. Zack really did you good..." I was spun around again and given a hard shove. "Inta mah office... NOW!!!"

When I hesitated, he gave me another shove and turned his head to the other men in the locker room. "Getz yo' god-damn asses reddy fo' roll call!!"

* * *

Rico shut and locked the door after himself and whistled as he gave me once-over. I grinned and flexed. "You like wat you seez, Rico??" In only two days as a black thug, my behavior and attitudes had already undergone a considerable transformation; if I had still been a white man, being dragged buck naked into someone's office would have been a major cause of embarassment - now, I enjoyed having as little (or no) clothes on as possible, and showing off everything I had. My steel-ringed horsecock was swollen and painfully erect at the situation. And at seeing Rico.

The massive thug shook his head and grinned. "Dayumm... dat's all Ah cain say... frum da way you iz walkin', looks like you had a ruff weekend...AJ fuck you bowlegg'd???"

I chuckled. "Yeah. You cood say dat... AJ an' me gone to da Greasetank an' had a lotta ackshun goin' on too..."

He walked around me. "Zack sed dat you don' hav an offishul crimin'l record - jus' yo' dishonorable discharge an' lotz ov speck-u-layshun 'bout wat you doin' now..."

"Well, Ah been doin' lotz ov evil shit since Ah gotz outta military prison... jus' dat no one cain ackshully proove it wuz me..." In my mind, I ticked off the dozen or so people I had killed in the past twelve months...

Rico chuckled, but then grew serious. "Dat's good ta hear. You gonna be earnin' lotz ov cash now..." He laughed at his pun. "Jus' r'member one thing, bruh - watevva you makez, Ah getz ten percent. Ah'm da one dat LET you b'cumm a brutha, an' Ah'm da one dat cain put enuff evidence t'gether t'send you tah Attica fo' da res' ov  yo' life if'n you fuckz wiff mah cut."

" 'Course, Rico... Ah woodn' be da man Ah iz now wiffout you..." This was another indication of the totality of my transformation - I saw nothing wrong about my committing heinous criminal acts and getting paid for them; I saw nothing wrong with his demands and even less wrong with my response to his shakedown.

Rico stripped off his shirt to reveal the thick leather harness that most of the officers and all of the Converted black men now wore under their uniform. His accented the powerful, deep chocolate musculature of his chest and the large central ring had a leather strap that descended and disappeared into his duty pants. "Stretch yo'self ovva dat desk..."

I was horny as hell and did as instructed; Rico grabbed the button of my plug and pulled. I yelped as I experienced a moment of pain as the 3-inch steel sphere was torn past my sphincter. God, I hated the feeling of being empty.

"You ain't gonna be empty fo' long, bruh..." It was like he had read my mind. He placed the plug on his desk and opened a drawer to remove a large bottle of J-Lube. He began pouring it onto his arm until it gleamed in a thick, shiny coat of clear goo. He then proceeded to rub more of the lube onto my pucker and squirted a dollop up my chute.

"Jus' one mo' thing tah do b'fore you getz in yo' uniform fo' da firs' time az a Nubian..." With that, he cupped his thumb and fingers together and rammed his fist up my ass.

* * *

"Fuucckkkk!!!!" The pain was mindbending. Even at my own Initiation, I hadn't been fisted. Rico's hand twisted inside of my guts, stretching me to painful proportions. He laughed. "... you gotz t'proove you gotz wat it takes t'be a REEL brutha, Jax..."

I wept in pain and pounded my fists on the desk as the black leatherman began pushing more and more of his massive arm into my body. Waves of agony spiraled higher and higher; my assring stretched beyond comprehension as I felt Rico's fingers moving deep within me. Each advance of his arm and digits shattered my vision with lightning bolts of pain - but I held onto the desk; I knew I had to prove myself to him. I knew Jax Thomas had to prove himself to him.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. One minute it was there, and the next, a massive wave of pleasure broke over me. I had never been violated like this, and now I was enjoying every second of it. God... I wonder if this is what drug addicts feel after they shoot up...

"You iz doin' fine, Jax... real fine... Ah got mah arm upta mah elbow in yo' guts right now... you wantz me t'go all da way?"

I did. Jesus Christ I did. "Yeah... go fo' it Rico..." I panted. "G-Go fo' it..."

There was a pause as he added even more J-lube to his arm and then the process continued. My assring burned as the intrusion resumed, but I wanted nothing more than to feel Rico's entire massive arm buried in my guts.

After what felt like an eternity, I felt the edge of his harness on my asscheeks. I had done it - Rico's right arm was fully within me.

The massive thug kissed my neck. "All in, Jax. You likez it?"

It took a minute for me to gather enough breath to speak. "Yeah, feelz amazin' Rico!! Ah cain't beeleeve alla yo' arm iz insidez me..."

He began to pull out. The sensations of his withdrawal were as exquisitely agonizing as his entrance. Finally, his fingers left my ass and I was left with an incredible feeling of loss and emptiness. My breath caught in my throat.

"You want summ mo', Jax??" His lubed hand was stroking the ink on my back.

"Yeah, boss. Fill me up agin. Ah don' jus' wantz it... Ah NEEDZ it!! "

I felt his fingers on my hole again. "Glad ta oblige..."

* * *

As usual, the best laid plans always go astray. I had planned on doing a two-parter in this story arc, but Cash's experiences as Jax Thomas needed a bit more detail than I expected.  

Far be it from me to have my readers suffer an overlong installment!  

So, the two parts became three. The last part is about 65% done in my head and about 30% in outline form. There are some new plot twists here that I think you'll enjoy (and some astute readers may guess some of them already) and they also will be some new ground for me as well.

It's almost halfway through 2017 already - and I can't believe I've been writing since 2007... All I can say is "Thank You!" for being here and following my stories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them.

Stay tuned for the third and final installment - "In For a Penny, In for a Pound - Mortal Sins"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In For A Penny, In For A Pound - Micah

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

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

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

This is their story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ingraham nodded. "Yeah. Even Sarge. He's always been an hardass, but as a black man, he's taken it to a whole new level. You couldn't tell, could you? Some of them are baby cops as well… others are veterans that want to experience being black thugs for a while. We're going to get molds done of your face and hands and stuff so you can get Transformed back to yourself when your Initiation is over. I'm taking you to get that done after watch today."

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

"It depends. Usually between 2-4 months. Sometimes more. That's up to Sarge."

* * *

A FEW DAYS LATER

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

"Frum da way you iz lookin' at me, Ah guess Cash tol' you 'bout us?"

He trailed a dark finger down the crevasse between Benchley's pecs. The young officer trembled at the light touch.

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

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

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

McIntyre grinned in approval. "Dat's good. Meet me afta da shif' endz. We gotz t'talk."

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

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

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

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

McIntyre shook his head. "Well, not 'xactly. We IZ bruthas right now - an' ain't no way noboddy cood tell da diff'rence 'tween one ov us an' a black muthafucka offa da street. We all usta be white... but now we be da "new an' improv'd" versionz ... Back d'en mah name wuz Archer Brandt."

Najeem grinned. "Ah wuz Frank Dorsey."

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

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

"Itz amazin' bein' da way we iz now, Micah... Even tho we don' wanna do it, we all knowz we gotta Convert back sump-time, but dat's up tah us an' Rico... we iz luvvin' ev'ry minnit bein' bruthas ..." Najeem grinned. "An' bein' felons... an' livin' dat part..."

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

Andre nodded. "Uh-huh. We all gotz rap sheets long az yo' arm. An' outstandin' warrants too." His dark face lit up. "We iz hidin' frum da po-lice by BEIN' po-lice. We iz all jus' a seckund away frum goin' ta prison fo' da rest ov our livez. 

An' dat makez ev'ry minnit ov da time we iz black such a fuckin' rush, whiteboy… Y'see, we cain talkz ta you 'bout our Transfo'mayshun - since you iz part ov da Four-One … but we cain't talkz ta noboddy else 'bout it - 'cept Zack - he's da guy dat made us who we iz now."

The black thug paused. "We gotz condishunin' ta go wiff  becummin' reel black men - if'n we iz stoopid an' we getz arrest'd o' any shit like dat, we cain only say who our rap sheetz sayz we iz ... an' we iz doin' plenty ov crim'nal shit when we iz off-duty dat wood getz us sent tah Attica if'n we getz caught." Andre smiled and waggled his fingers. "Our printz an' teef iz diff'rent too - nuthin' ta evva proove we wuz anyboddy else but da black muthafuckas we iz now!!"

Najeem cleared his throat. "Ah gotz ta axe you sumpthin, Micah - you bein' handsum az fuck n'all ... you evva take a dick up da ass o' down da throat befo' ? Evva bred anotha guy? You jus' iz too hansum t'be straight..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Najeem then proceeded to fasten a leather collar around the young man's neck. He smiled in satisfaction.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm... now you ain't jus' any whiteboy. You iz OUR whiteboy... you iz our prop'ety now..."

 Donte grabbed a bottle of lube and slicked up his horsecock until it was glistening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Once you get fuck'd da right way, nuthin' evva feelz az good, 'cept when you iz fuckin' 'nother guy... an' duz da same fo' him..." Donte screamed as he exploded within the young white cop and Benchley felt the deep comforting warmth of the black man's seed spread within his guts. McIntyre pulled out and kissed the rookie's neck. "You dunn good... Anjawon gonna breed you nex'."

Micah sighed as he felt another strong pair of hands caress his flanks as the next black felon began to rape him.

* * *

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

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

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

Andre grinned at the eager young man before him. "Ready, whiteboy?" The young rookie licked his lips and smiled back.

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

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

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

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

"You iz one damn fine cocksucker … you shure you nevva did dis befo' ??"

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

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

Reynolds was pumping his tool into the eager mouth below him. Najeem turned to Donte. "Don' forgitz … we also gotz t'cuff 'im an' seez how he managez wiffout hiz handz…"

* * *

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

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

His dark face split into a wide, brilliant white smile. "Zack, bein' like dis iz absolutely amazin' ..."

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

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

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

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

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

The black thug swayed on his feet. "Wat wuz dat? Shee-it... Ah felt reel fuckin' dizzy fo' a minnit…"

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

The dark face frowned. "Da otha bruthas sed sumpthin' like dis wood happen... Fuccckkkk… why da fuq you do dat tah me, Zack?"

Zack grinned. "Well… one, it's for insurance - so you don't inadvertently reveal yourself or the rest of us, and two, it adds to the experience of being a low-life felon. You don't have to consciously THINK about being a black thug or acting like one - you just ARE..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

The newly-made black man closed the door to the apartment behind him and leaned exhaustedly against the wall. "Shee-it…Itz been one helluva day…" Looking around him, he felt a strange sense of dislocation; this place belonged to a white cop who no longer existed - not him - a Nubian gang-banger with a long rap sheet. At 4AM, the sky remained a velvety blackness, but the young thug had been going non-stop since 6AM the previous morning. Cole was dressed in snug camo pants topped with a black compression tee and a pair of semi-laced Timberlands. Steel rings adorned a number of his fingers, a group of beaded and leather thong bracelets circled one dark wrist while a massive military-styled wristwatch covered the other;  the clothing and sneakers 'Micah Benchley' wore to his Transformation the previous day were in a backpack he had dropped on the sofa. He trudged over to the large AC unit and flipped it on, then stripped and headed into the bathroom for a cool shower.

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

The large CZ studs glittered in his dark ears and he fondled the shiny metal barbells in his newly pierced and still-sensitive nips, while his massive package was artfully trapped within its gleaming steel confines. God…There's absolutely nothing to even HINT I was ever a white man... His licked his thick lips as fingers stroked the dark skin down his arms and across his pecs and washboard abs. ...or ever should be again...

"Fuucckk… Ah iz a reel sex-craz'd gen-u-wine black muthafucka now..." With a start, he realized that didn't bother him at all. In fact, saying that in his newly deeper voice reinforced his dominating criminal memories and gave the thug a massive rush of pleasure. "An' Ah luvz cock." It felt absolutely liberating to say to say that out loud; he had never realized the terrible burden it had been in keeping that part of his being so deeply hidden and sequestered. Even from himself.

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

An uncontrollable lust built within him. It was too much to bear seeing the powerful black man in the mirror fondling his nips and steel-shod junk. "Ah gotz t'get stuff'd…" The thug loped back into the foyer and unzipped the backpack he had received from Zack to remove a massive dildo and a large jar of Hyperlube; he then moved into the kitchen. Cole moistened the suction cup at the bottom of the device and pressed it firmly onto a chair, slathering the massive ass-plug with the lube. He straddled the seat backwards, positioned his pucker over the head of the monstrous cock and quickly slammed himself down.

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

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

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

* * *

The next morning, the freshly-minted black felon again marveled at his new (and definitely improved) self in the mirror. Dark hands reached up and to feel his Converted nose, lips and hair. God, this is so incredible.

Ajani Cole experienced a rush of pleasure he had never had before in his life. He flashed himself a brilliant white smile. "Dayumm... mebbe Ah cain stayz dis way fo' good..."

After stepping into a jock, the Nubian grunted as he inserted his on-duty plug for the day. The plug - actually a butt-sphere - was a heavy, 3-inch solid steel ball with a short stem and a flat, wide button at the end. Pressing the globe into his chute was difficult - at first - but once past the initial resistance, the feeling of complete fullness was amazing. Cole then pulled on his biker leathers and grabbed his helmet as he closed the apartment door and headed down to the garage. Every movement created a constant buzz of pleasure as he mounted his bike and headed to the station.

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

Within an hour, the young black man arrived at the station house and was immediately greeted by several of the other Converted muscle-bruthas. Najeem rubbed his ass through the AlpineStars suit and played with the relief zipper. "Dayumm - you lookz hot enuff ta fuck right now!"

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

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

"Ah'm lock'd in. Rico sed dat if'n Ah'm gonna be a Breeder, Ah gotz t'be Bred alot firs' …"

Benjie Cantrell gave a wicked laugh. "Well - getz yo'self clean'd up an' lemme give you summ edumah-cay-shun befo' roll call…"

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

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

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

ONE WEEK LATER...

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

"Why? Don'chu like gettin' yo' ass plowed? Ah hearz you iz busy servicin' all da boyz az often az you cain - an' luvvin' it. An' don' call me 'Sarge' - we ain't reelly copz no mo' .... mah namez 'Rico' "

"Ah do, Sa- … Rico, but Ah gotz t'Breed. Ah'm lookin' at all dat white meat out d'ere... an' in here, too - dat needz summ hardcore raw ass rapin' tah unnerstand d'ey ain't nuthin' but a brutha's prop'ety.... jus' like Ah used to do. Dem ol' whiteboy mem'ries Ah gotz jus' feel so fake now - an' dey iz feelin' mo' an' mo' WRONG ev'ry day..."

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

"Strip." It shure wuz good t'see anotha Nubian mindfuck take ovva a whiteboy an' make 'im a brutha fo' reel...

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

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

"Fuucckkk... dat wuz good..." He grinned up at the massive black man above him.

Rico then tossed him a pair of thick, heavy c-rings that chimed on the hard surface next to the young ex-con.

"Keep d'ose on yo' junk frum now on - Ah catch'chu wiffout 'em, yo' dick iz gettin' lock'd back up till you iz jus' a whiteboy agin. An' lemme know if'n you wantz a cock-plug too. Ah'll send in Cash tah cleanz you up. An' seez Benjie 'bout goin' tah da Greasetank - now you iz reddy tah breed agin, you gotta getz back in practiss…"

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

The Greasetank also served as a springboard for the young ghetto rat to participate in a variety of illicit activities. Thanks to the memories (and abilities) implanted within him - plus his own natural talents -  Ajani Cole soon found himself as the principal or as an accessory to many crimes - not only violent rape, but robbery and burglary to assault and battery; he even found himself as part of a crew that killed several other thugs that had been skimming from various businesses of the club's owners. The deeper his participation, the stronger and more dominant his synthetic memories became as his original ones continued to fade; he also found out (the hard way) that Rico Landry demanded a cut from his earnings - the Converted young ex-convict was ambushed by the older thug and woke to find himself naked, cuffed hand and foot, standing precariously on a chair with a leather collar pulled tightly around his neck and attached to a chain that vanished into the darkness above.

"Where da fuq iz mah money?"

"Wha…??"

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

Ajani made strangling sounds as the chain tightened and his air was further reduced. His toes barely touched the surface.

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

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

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

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

AJ's heart was pounding in his chest as he rubbed his sore neck. It even hurt to swallow. Dayummm… he reely ain't 'Jamie Reardon' da cop no mo' ... Rico IS a gen-u-wine gang-bangin' muthafuckin' felon now…

And that realization got him hard in a second.

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

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

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

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

AJ was completely unaware of the silent tears that poured down Ingraham's face. "Cash? Cain Ah axe you sumpthin?"

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

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

* * *

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

"Itz 'Rico' ... Ah ain't no reel cop no mo'... Wat'chu want, Cash?"

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

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

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

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

Landry removed a book from his desk and thumbed through it. "Hmm… look like Zack gotz an openin' nex' Friday… why don' you give 'im a call an' getz yo' moldz made afta shift?"

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

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

* * *

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

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