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!