(For the Blogger censors ... this a work of FICTION - any resemblance to
any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Language, situations
and behaviors are only utilized within the confines of the post to enhance the story itself and do not represent any real-life
circumstances in any way.)
CHUY - TUESDAY, 8:02am
"Hey Sarge, you wanted to see us?" Jamie had motioned to us after the morning briefing. Tito motioned to Martin Harris and Paul Raczyński to wait for us outside the squad room. We were currently FTOs to the two new rooks and acclimating them to the patrols around the Four-One.
"How did it go last week?" Sarge had identified Paul and Marty as high-potential rookies - much as we had been - and wanted to get them Converted as soon as possible.
"Fine. We brought them over to Zack's for their initial molds. They were apprehensive at first, but Tito and I stayed with them throughout the process. I'm not sure if Zack let anything slip, but they were a lot calmer after everything was done."
"How about the erotropin and transanabol? How much are they getting now?"
Tito smiled. "About one-fifty PPM in an oral suspension. Those two are really diligent about taking their 'pre-workout shakes' - we're in the gym with them before every watch. Working out with us definitely encourages them to keep up the regimen. We're seeing positive results in their physiques, but they're going to be shocked at the rapidity of change once the transanabol kicks into high gear post-Initiation, Sarge."
"They see what's going on the locker room and they're definitely interested." I chuckled. "Max asked Micah about it - he told him 'Everything will be revealed at your Initiation.' Both of them are already beginning to use the Crawford cream and wear cock rings."
Jamie laughed as well. "Good! Zack and I scheduled them for Thursday." He paused. "We haven't had any new rooks for a while, so we're going to be really rough on them... I think you two should get them ready for what's going to happen."
Tito gave Jamie a bright white smile. "Will do, Sir! Bring them over to Zack's Thursday morning?"
Jamie nodded. "Get them there around 7am. Thanks fellas." He loped off to handle other business.
I pulled Tito into an embrace and gave him a deep kiss. "Bien... Hay algunos novatos que hay que follar..." (Well, there are some rookies that need to be fucked..., ed.)
He nuzzled my neck and massaged my ass. "Después del entrenamiento de mañana, ¡les va a tocar un buen entrenamiento!" (After tomorrow's workout, they're going to get a workout!, ed.)
"Vamos. Let's get Max and Paul." The two of headed out to collect our rookies for patrol.
* * *
PAUL - WEDNESDAY, 5:30am
"Jeez, Chuy ... that's incredible!"
My FTO was doing a series of dazzling acrobatic moves on the pommel horse in the gym and it was amazing that a guy that big - over six feet tall and over 250 pounds - could be
that fast and flexible. Tito - Marty's FTO - was working out and pressing an unheard-of 500 pounds with little effort.
Chuy continued with his workout, then spun around, twisted into the air, somersaulted, and nailed the dismount. He trotted over to me with a big smile.
"You gotta be flexible and strong to be here, Pablito!" Chuy - like his partner, Tito - was a dark-skinned latino with a shaved head, dark eyes and a beautiful white smile. While Chuy was from Guatemala, Tito was from Mexico - they were both built like Greek gods and loved showing off their incredible bodies whenever they had a chance. I was getting a massive hard-on just looking at him - half naked in just a pair of compression tights with a enormous bulge at his crotch - and I hoped that my gym shorts hid it.
No such luck. He looked down at my crotch and grinned even wider. Damn.
"Hey, I wanna talk to you about your Initiation ... it's gonna be this Thursday. After you finish your sets, do veinte minutes of cardio, then meet me in the little locker room, okay?" I could see that Tito was having a similar conversation with Marty ... probably about the same thing. I nodded and he squeezed my junk as he left the gym.
* * *I entered the smaller locker room to find Chuy there, along with Marty and Tito.
"Sit down, chico... I wanna talk to you about what's gonna happen." He looked at Tito and a look passed between them. He knelt in front of me with an earnest look on his face.
"You see how we act in the locker room, right? We all like pija... dick. A lot. Looks like you do too. As part of your Initiation, you're gonna be servicing all the patruellos off-duty - you're gonna be sucking cock and getting fucked all night, then you get the chance to do the same to them."
As they were explaining, I felt my dick getting thicker and harder; Marty seemed anxious, but he was also sporting a massive hard-on plainly visible through his shorts as well.
Tito continued. "Because Sarge thinks you two are high-value rooks - like we were - you're gonna get some changes to the way you look for a while."
"What do you mean?"
"We can't tell you what's going to happen to you - yet. But we been through it too. That's why you visited Zack last week."
"Why can't you tell us?"
"We can't explain that either...We physically can't tell you. Zack will explain that to you too."
Chuy picked up the conversation. "We're gonna do some stuff today with you so it won't hurt so bad on Thursday. We haven't got rooks in a while, so there's a lot of ... demand ... that you two are gonna have to satisfy."
"Stand up, Pablito.Watch what I'm doin'..." I followed my FTO's directions and he slowly pulled down my shorts, exposing my hard eight inches and the metal cock ring surrounding my junk. He gently took hold of my hips and gently licked the weeping tip of my dick. Bolts of pleasure crashed through me as he continued to lave my cock like licking a particularly delicious ice cream cone. More and more of my dick entered his mouth until my nuts hit his chin. Chuy established a smooth R&B rhythm as he skullfucked himself using my prong. Tito was doing the same to Marty.
I felt a massive orgasm building and threw closed my eyes in pleasure. "Oh Christ, Chuy, I'm going to cum!" My FTO made some encouraging noises as my cock slid down his throat and I screamed as torrents of semen exploded out of me and into him.
I must have shot four - maybe five - loads into the muscular latino before me. He pulled out and licked his lips as I was gasping from the effort. Marty looked worn out - but extremely satisified - as well.
"You're gonna get something to stop you from gagging with a throat full of cock for your Initiation. Tito an' me know how to swallow."
Our FTO's stood up, pulling down their compression tights and jockstraps to reveal their massive, caramel-colored tools. Like us, their packages were surrounded by gleaming metal; unlike us, they each wore three massive steel cockrings that pulled their junk up and out, making them appear even more gigantic than they already were.
"We're gonna slowfuck you now... we're gonna go real easy at first, and you tell me and Chuy if it hurts too much. We'll stop for a bit and let you adjust, ¿vale? Lay down on the bench for us. Relax."
Marty and I stretched ourselves facedown over the benches in the middle of the room as Tito and Chuy took some fluffy white towels and folded them up, tucking one under our faces and one under our crotches to shift our butts into the air. The two latinos rubbed some thick white lube onto their cocks from a big container labeled "Hyperlube" and then took a big dollop of the stuff and rubbed it onto and into our puckers.
I felt Chuy straddle me and grip my hips as his lips gently kissed the back of my neck.
"Ready?"
"Yes, sir..."
The pain was intense as his cock breached me. I clenched my fists in pain and hissed as more and more of his thick ten inches drilled into my ass. Marty cried out in pain. Tito murmured something to him. Chuy stopped as well.
"You okay, chico?"
"I... I'm okay ... keep... keep going..."
"Okay..." Another soft kiss on my neck. The pain began to subside and soon, I felt Chuy's ballsac on my buttcheeks - My God, he's got all ten inches up my ass - and an amazingly erotic sense of fullness. Chuy pulled out and I felt a sudden unwanted emptiness. He pushed himself back in and began a far more aggressive rhythm of pummeling my ass with his cock. Pain was replaced by pleasure as I felt his tool get even thicker as he groaned and flood of warmth filled my guts. My FTO continued jackhammering my ass and I lost count of the loads of cum that filled my insides. I watched with bleary eyes as Tito and Chuy switched places. The Mexican smiled and squatted down and booped my nose.
"My turn, guapo..."
* * *
I think I passed out for a bit.
The next thing I remember was Chuy pushing something soft, yet firm into my ass, then lifting me up into a sitting position on the bench. He stroked my face and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.
"I put a butt-plug in your ass, Pablito. Marty has one too. Es muy importante that you keep all of that cum inside you tonight, okay? How you feeling?""Good." The plug gave me a nice sense of fullness but without any painful stretching. In fact, other than some slight burning, my ass felt fine after the multiple rapes by both latino cops.
"Bien. Tito and me are gonna pick you two up at 6am tomorrow. Make sure you wear some old clothes and sneakers. Don't eat nothing tonight. Jus' liquids. We'll see you mañana!"
Marty and I looked at each other. We were tired, sore, our asses were plugged and our guts were full of cum. We grinned and embraced.
"Damn, I can't wait for tomorrow!"
* * *
MARTY - THURSDAY, 7:02am
The four of us - me, Paul, Chuy and Tito - arrived at the Brooklyn warehouse a little past seven the next morning. My FTO went over to a heavy steel door and flipped open a hidden section of the wall; dark fingers rapidly entered a code into a keypad. With a loud
CLUNK, I heard bolts retract and Chuy pulled open the door and ushered us in.
After going through a short, nondescript corridor, we encountered another steel door and another keypad. Once again, Tito's fingers danced over the keys and the door opened to a well-lit, spotless, high-ceilinged area.
"Hi guys! Right on time!" Zack - the owner of the warehouse - loped over and gave each of our FTOs a strong hug and a deep and intimate kiss. "C'mon in!" Paul and I got a strong hug from him as well.
Let me tell you a little about this guy - first off,
Zack is handsome as fuck. He's got blue-black hair cut in a short fade with a hard part on the left side. His face is all sharp angles and he's got a short, razor-cut designer beard on his cheeks and neck. He's got piercing brown eyes surmounted by expressive black brows and was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Zack is a little shorter than six feet tall, with a really well-developed physique; not stacked and jacked as Chuy or Tito, but
built. He was wearing only a pair of tight rowers that rode low over his hips, a cropped black tank and low white leather sneakers without socks. His skin is smooth and hairless and he's got intricate blackwork ink running down both powerful arms. One on slabbed pec he's got a set of comedy/tragedy masks and the other one is covered by a set of praying hands. Below his navel, he's got Caesar's
"Veni, Vidi, Vici" in blackwork script as well.
He motioned us to a casual area with several couches and we sat down. "Okay, let me tell you two what we're going to do today. First off, we're going to remove all the hair from your body - face, head, crotch, etc. - and then I'm going to apply something that is going to put all your hair into the "sleeping" phase - nothing is going to grow back until I apply the counteragent. Chuy and Tito have this on them right now."
He continued. "I mentioned that you'd see some amazing things happen last time you were here. The next item on the menu is we're going to do is change the way you look. We're going to do some facial and cranial remodeling so you'll appear completely different than you do now."
He must have seen the panic on our faces. "No surgery! No scalpels! No blood! Just some discomfort. I apply a special compound to your face, head and other areas that lets me reshape them like putty. That's why I took molds last week. That's gives me the basis to create the alterations and change you back at the proper time. The compound's effects only last a short while until everything goes back to normal. That why we move quickly making the changes."
"H-How long will we be different?"
"That's up to Sergeant Reardon and Captain Morgan. And you."
He continued. "The next step is applying several coats of special nano-dye to your skin. Along with the remolding, this will assure that any connections to your current selves will be obliterated. In a sense, you - the you are now - will cease to exist. I'll be changing your eye color, tooth surfaces and voice pitch as well. I'll also be adding some artificial hair to complete the transformation. You two are going to become black men - completely indistiguishable as if you had actually been born that way."
Chuy spoke up. "And with criminal records!"
At our shocked expressions, Zack gave us a wide grin. "The process is permanent... but completely reversible. All of the black guys you see at the precinct aren't really black - they've been Converted. By me. Chuy and Tito have been through the process multiple times..." He chuckled. "In fact, these two latino gorillas were skinny white guys once too."
Our FTOs grinned. "Well, never skinny, Zack... just not as jacked as we are now..." Chuy flexed his arm as the muscles popped into amazing definition and vascularity.
Paul's mouth dropped open in amazement. "Why couldn't you tell us this before, Chuy? You - both of you - have been black guys? You aren't even really latinos?"
Zack interrupted. "Because they couldn't. The final step in the process is inserting some artificial memories for your new identities and some post-hypnotic conditioning to prevent you from revealing anything about this procedure. They physically couldn't say anything about this process until I told you about it."
"Who were you before?"
"My name was 'Charlie Hawke' before I got converted into 'Chuy Calderón' and Tito used to be 'Tony McLaren' - we're part of a special trial to convert white cops into 'foreign' latino cops as part of an 'international exchange program'. We're hoping that Cap will let us stay this way permanently. In that case, we'd switch between how we look now and murderous black felons as needed. When we're thugs, I'm 'Rayshawn Johnson' and Tito is 'Benjamin Cantrell'. You can look up their rap sheets in NCIC when we get back to the station."
"Wow..." My cock was leaking pre-cum all over my jock. "How long have you been latinos?"
"About five months. We've been black guys for over a year as well. That was a deep undercover assignment. Once you Convert, it's really hard becoming just white guys again. You can't wait for the next time."
"I was going to Convert one of you into an Asian. Physically, everything was perfect, but I'm having a little trouble with inserting Japanese into a mind without giving you a stutter. But that'll get fixed soon."
He rubbed his hands. "So... you two ready to become ghetto rats?"
* * *
TITO - THURSDAY, 7:47am
After having all of their hair shaved off and depilated with Crawford cream, Marty and Paul took a shower and came out looking like a pair of naked skinheads with raging erections. Zack proceeded to rub the lotion all over them that put their hair to sleep.
Paul was giving Marty a strange look.
"What's wrong?"
"You look bigger than you did yesterday."
Marty took a hard look at Paul as well. "So do you. Must be the fact that we're completely hairless now. Must make everything look bigger."
Chuy and I looked at each other and tried not to laugh. With the amount of cum we pumped into them yesterday, no wonder they looked bigger. They were bigger. Now that the transanabol had been activated by semen, these two would start seeing amazingly rapid muscular development.
Zack kept a straight face. "Chuy, Marty's up first. Why don't you and Paul go work out a bit? I'll come get you when I'm ready." My partner nodded and the two sauntered off towards the gym.
The transformation artist brought us over to another area of the warehouse. This section was filled with industrial steel equipment and a long examining table with a large metal box at one end with a rack and pinion mechanism. Zack pushed a button, and with a hydraulic hiss, the box separated into two halves. We could see the outline of a head on the lower section.
"That's how we remold your head and face. Let's do the easier items first."
The dark-haired artist brought Marty over to a heavy wooden chair with similar metal blocks on the armrests and a long rectangular block in front. A number of cables snaked out of the boxes and into a laptop computer on a table. Zack went over to the computer and tapped some commands on the keyboard. The blocks hissed open to reveal negative molds of hands and feet.
"Have a seat. Let's get the plasticity compound on you." Zack pulled on a pair of thin gloves with an odd metallic sheen and opened a jar containing some bluish gel. He rubbed a generous amount onto both of my rook's hands and feet and in a few moments, the normally healthy-colored skin took on a sickly gray appearance.
"Okay - put your hands and feet in the molds. Fingers and toes in position." The artist checked the positioning and nodded, then walked back and tapped a few more commands onto the console. The blocks ratcheted closed and a red light appeared on each unit.
"You're going to feel some pressure as your old prints are smoothed out and the new ones and created..."After about ten minutes, the lights flickered and then turned green. The boxes opened up and Marty's skin appeared normal again.
He looked at his hands. "Wow... they look a little different..."
"I changed the shape of the fingers a bit, plus you have completely different prints now that are on file with NCIC belonging to a black man named 'Johvorne Miller'. I'll be giving you brand new ID before you leave, too. Now, let's do your teeth."
Zack took a small paintbrush and proceeded to coat Marty's teeth with the compound. After a few minutes, he then inserted dental molds - top and bottom - into his mouth.
"Bite down hard..." Marty clenched as Zack put a nylon strap under his chin and around his head to pull his jaws even tighter together. He used a mini-ratchet to tighten the strap to near-painful proportions.
"Mmmhhmm-phhhmmm!!"
"I know, this one is super uncomfortable. I'm really sorry." Zack looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes."
Finally, it was time for the head and face. At this point, 'Martin Harris' would soon cease to exist and 'Johvorne Miller' would be taking his place.
Again, Zack slathered the compound on Marty's smooth head and face and waited until the skin turned gray. He walked him over to the exam table and we helped him lay down, putting his head into the back section of the mold. Zack fiddled with some clear plastic tubes on the upper section.
"I'm going to put these tubes in your nose so you can breathe once the mold closes. Since you won't be able to speak, I'm going to tap your chest. Give me a thumbs up if you can breathe okay. If not, we'll reopen and adjust you and the molds. Then we'll seal the mold and start the reshaping. You're going to feel more pressure than on your hands and feet, and this part takes about twice as long. Tito and I are going to be right beside you, so don't worry."
Marty nodded as Zack inserted the tubing into his nostrils as the front of the mold descended and mated with it's counterpart. He tapped my rookie's chest and got a thumbs up. I held his hand as the mold sealed and the red light turned on. I watched as the pressure gauge increased and I felt Marty's hand tighten around mine. Twenty minutes later, the light blinked and turned green; with a hiss, the mold separated.
Marty - or the black man he was becoming - sat up and blinked.
"How do Ah look?? Dayumm!" He realized he was drawling his words and was wide-eyed as he felt the thicker brow, wider nose and fuller lips that he now possessed.
"Sorta like cookie dough that needs some serious baking!" The three of of laughed as Zack and I helped him off the table and proceeded to the next phase of his transformation.
* * *
No matter how many times I've been Converted, it's always amazing to see the transformation of a white man into a black thug. After five coats of the nano-dye, Marty now appeared to be a naturally born African-American. The voice-altering compound was sprayed down his throat and the eyedrops were applied. After 5 instillations, he sported the same deep brown-black irises as I did. Thanks to the artificial hair, he also sported thick black brows and well-trimmed nappy ebon hair in a short fade. Zack had also punched in small CZ studs into his ears. He was naked except for a black posing pouch riding low over trim hips and highlighting the well defined adonis belt on his dark skin.
"Shee-it, Zack, dis iz amazin' !!" Marty - now Johvorne - was grinning at his newly chocolate-brown skin and was amazed at his reflection in the mirror. Zack had put some Crest Whitestrips over his teeth to brighten his smile even further. His voice was deeper as well.
"Now we need to do the memory insertion and conditioning. I have to give you a shot to allow the assimilation to occur. You're going to feel a little disoriented, but after a nap, you'll feel fine. Ready?"The newly created black man nodded.
"Make a fist." Zack tied a rubber strap around his bicep and tapped his inner elbow until the vein popped up. He took a syringe off of the table and injected it.
"Woooo...." Johvorne swayed and I caught him before he fell and helped him into a chair.
"That was fast."
"New formulation." Zack was prepping two more syringes and injected them into his arm as well, then removed the rubber strap.
"Transanabol and erotropin. He's gotten the standard Four-One dose, so he'll be horny as hell and packing on muscle in no time!"
The black man had a dazed look on his face.
"Marty, stand up. Time for memories."
I helped him stand and put my arm around his waist as we shuffled along another corridor.
The artist opened a door to another, smaller, dimmer room and ushered us in.
I never saw this setup before. The
room contained two chairs, a padded bench, a computer and a white
machine that looked like a large cylinder with giant pair of attached
binoculars.
"Have a seat, Marty."
My rookie staggered over to the chair in front of the machine and
plopped down, while Zack attached several electrodes to his skull.
"Marty,
I want to you push your face into the eyepieces of the machine and try
not to blink. You're going to see a lot of colored lights and patterns.
When the machine shuts down, you can lay on the couch over there and
take a nap, okay?"
The black man nodded and followed the
directions. Marty settled himself in the chair and pressed his face to
the padded area surrounding his eyes. A kaleidoscopic brightness filled
his field of vision - modeled on the computer screen - strobing in
different and varied patterns. The patterns slowly increased in
intensity and speed, and the patrolman's eyes followed the intricate
dance of light.
"Wow…That's really pretty…" He murmured.
"That it is…" Zack watched the progress on the computer screen and turned to me.
"The artificial memories and conditioning are compiled, formatted and
transmitted through Marty's optic nerves directly into his brain. The
sensors he had attached onto his skull are showing the synaptic activity
increase as the memories and directives are assimilated."
"So that's how we get all of our background info... wow..."
The duplicated activity on the computer monitor slowed and the lights
from the machine dimmed and turned off. Zack removed the electrodes
from Marty's head and I helped him over to the bench. The artist stroked
his head and gave him a kiss. "All done, handsome. Go to sleep now." The black man closed his eyes and in a few moments was breathing deeply and out like a light.
"How long is he going to be unconscious?""About
thirty minutes."
"Can I stay here with him?"
Zack nodded. "Of course! Once he's up, bring him back to the operating area."
* * *
ZACK - THURSDAY, 11:44am
Once Marty - now Johvorne - was sleeping, I went to the gym and got Chuy and Paul. The rookie needed another shower before we started, but other than that, the procedure moved smoothly along. In the span of a few hours, another newly minted black man was created.
"Ah cain't bee-leeve how fan-tastic dis iz!" Paul Raczyński - now Tyrese Carter- stared at himself in the mirror. He reached up to touch the diamond studs in his ears and a bright, white smile split his now-dark face. "You sed Ah got a crim'nal record, too?"
Chuy nodded.
"Both of you have a nice, long rapsheets - rape, robbery, burglary, GTA - plus outstanding warrants. Right now, you're hiding out from the cops by pretending to be cops." He laughed.
"You know how inefficient the NYPD is when it comes to background checking... Sarge expects you to be committing new felonies when you're off-duty and if you get caught, part of the conditioning will prevent you from saying who you really... were - only who your fingerprints say you are now.""Dayumm..." Tyrese paused. "But Ah don't know how to do any ov those thingz..."
Zack chuckled. "You will. All part of the artificial memories. You'll find that the things that you knew as 'Paul Raczyński' will still be available, but will feel like they belong to someone else. Not to a hoodie rat with a tenth-grade education."
"You'll also find that it'll become more and more natural to speak like a low-class felon all the time. Don't fight it - just go with the flow. Sarge will probably send you to Rikers for a week or two. That'll cement your bona-fides. You'll find that being cuffed and incarcerated is going to be an amazing turnon as well."
"When do Ah get da memoriez an' da condishunin' ?"
"Whenever you're ready. I need to give you a shot to help the memories implant themselves properly." I wrapped the rubber strap around his bicep. "Make a fist."
* * *
JOHVORNE - THURSDAY, 4:48pm
I was standing in the operating area with Tito when Chuy walked in with another guy. It took me a moment to realize that the black stud with him was Paul. We both were almost naked - wearing just skimpy black thongs that barely contained our junk - and Zack had given both of us diamond studs in our ears.
His dark, ethnic face had the same look of shock and surprise and he broke out into a blinding white smile.
"Paul? Dat's you? You look fuckin' incredible as a brutha!" He pulled me into a embrace and kissed me with his full lips. Kissing a hot black criminal was mind-blowing... particularly since he used to be a white cop.
"You do too! Dayumm ... dis iz amazin' wat Zack did fo' us! Ah cood nevva believe inna million yearz I'd evva be a real black man!"
I kissed him again - harder - and slipped my tongue into his mouth. We dueled for control until we broke for air.
"Jeezus!!" He laughed. We both noticed that our ebon cocks were painfully erect and poking out of the black posing pouches around our waists.
Tito winked and tossed me a jar of Hyperlube and Chuy pitched a roll of paper towels to Paul. "Looks like you two need to take care of some business. Butt plugs are on the table. After you're done, come into the kitchen. Straight ahead and two right turns."
* * *
We spent a good twenty minutes brutally fucking each other and after we had exploded multiple times into each other's guts, we wiped ourselves down, pushed the plugs into our asses, pulled on our thongs and limped into the kitchen, following the scents of fresh coffee and cinnamon. Tito, Chuy and Zack were drinking and eating some danishes. The two latino FTOs had changed out of their clothes and were just wearing thongs like us; Chuy had an electric blue one, and Tito's was bright red.
Zack gave us a grin. "Had a good time?"
"Oh, yeah... we fuck'd each otha's brains out..." Paul chuckled. "It wuz mind-blowin' seeing mah brown handz grabbin' Marty's hipz an' shovin' my black dick into hiz black ass... how cumm we still are 'Marty' an' 'Paul' - Ah thought we were suppos'd to be thinkin' and actin' like we were bruthas now??"
"You haven't gotten the trigger phrases yet. Have a seat." Tito and Chuy got up and we sat down.
"Ready? Here's we go. Applesauce. Paraffin. Turboprop."The world spun around for a moment and then everything came back into focus.
"What's your name?
"Ah'm Johvorne Miller." He looked shocked as the name just tumbled out of his mouth, then grinned.
"And who were you before you became a black man?"
"Ah wuz Marty Harris ... huh?"
"The conditioning is now active. But because you're with me and other guys from the Four-One, you can express that. If you were out on the street, you couldn't." He turned to Paul. "And what's your name, stud?"
The black man smirked at Zack. "Ah'm Ty-rese Carter... who da fuq do you think Ah iz??" He surprised himself at his response. "Jeez... sorry 'bout dat... it jus' came out dat way."
Zack patted the muscular dark skin of his arm. "No problem. Completely normal. Just what I was expecting." He turned to the two latino cops and grinned. "He's got an attitude problem."
Tito chuckled. "We'll take care of that..."
His face got serious. "Now, I'm going to unlock the rest of your new artificial memories." He raised his brows as he looked at both of us. "What's are your Department of Corrections IDs?"
"843932"
"756718"
"Fucckkk!!!" The number just tumbled out of my mouth. My mind swirled as I remembered growing up black - always being black; the cheap apartments I lived in; my uncles in lockup; my own stints in front of multiple judges for crimes I had committed; and the numerous times I had been behind bars. I remembered the many times I had been raped in jail by ferocious muscle-bruthas and how I had done the same to unsuspecting whiteboys. I remembered as well that Tyrese and I had been cellmates multiple times with all of the rough sex that entailed in and out of prison.
I looked at Tyrese and grinned. "Shee-it... Ah cain't bee-leeve da shit we dunn..."
He grinned back.
"Ah, cain't wait t'see our NCIC rapsheets!" Chuy lifted Tyrese out of the chair and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Tito did the same with me.
The Guatemalan cop laughed.
"Another amazing job making these two lowlife muscle-bruthas! Zack, I think Tito an' me need to work over these delincuentes habituales (jailbirds, ed.) before the rest of the guys show up tonight. You have someplace we can do an interrogation?"
Zack leaned against the wall and gave all of us a satisfied grin.
"Sure do! Upstairs bedroom on the left! You know where the lube, restraints and toys are! I've got to get the dungeon prepped for Jamie and the other cops before eight! Don't wear those two out too much!!!"
* * *
Okay, I will be the first to admit that parts of the storyline here have been used before, but I am really trying to keep the momentum going with publishing new entries and continuing the stories of Chuy and Tito.
Even the best writers sometimes just need to get something out!
We encounter a lot of themes here that you've seen before, as well as some new items... one of which is the fact that the transanabol bestows seriously impressive physical amplification to those who take it. Tito/Tony was never able to press five-hundred pounds, and Chuy/Charlie is performing Olympic-level acrobatics unheard of with someone at his height and weight - an average male gymnast is between 5'3 and 5'10 and between 132 and 154 pounds.
Zack, of course, is up to his old tricks as the transformation artist par excellence, and his skills improve with every Conversion he makes. I also wanted to establish a solid connection between Zack's activities and technology from The Castle. The memory transfer machine, the drugs - transanabol and erotropin, the artificial hair - all come from the incredible minds of those paramilitary, near-immortal boy scouts with ESP and a serious taste for dick.
I think the next theme to cover is going to be Charlie's conversion discovery by his uncle Danny and then probably Inti/Mateo's by Uncle Damien - maybe with Danny's help. Or not.
Stay tuned!
