Content warning and preamble: Hi, this is the first story I've written and the first story of this kind. There's naturally going to be some racism, slurs, and the like. A primary focus in the story involves a portion of gaslighting and manipulation. It's also a story that contains LGBTQ+ content. I understand that people who read these kinds of stories are not going to be too bothered about some of these things, but I understand that some of the themes might hit close to home, so please proceed with caution.
Getting dumped by your girlfriend is something that stings. Getting dumped by your high school sweetheart for so many years is more like a bullet. James had to come to the uncomfortable realization that he was not good enough for Christy, a girl he had loved and shared so much with. He would ask why, but that only hurt him more. He was not "man" enough; he couldn't "measure up." Christy had left him for Dominic at the end of their senior year, and Dominic was four times the man that James was; he was fit and athletic, charming, and if the rumors about him were true, he was "well endowed." Dominic just had more of an advantage with women than James could hope for. Dominic had it in his blood—dark and handsome—and Christy was not his first, not by a long shot.
Yes, getting dumped is painful, but James had allowed despair to coat him for almost a year, never being able to form the same kind of connection since. His ****** was a little help. While James was not politically aligned with his father, he loved and respected him, but not enough to tell him who he got dumped for. No doubt his father would berate him for losing to a "nigger." He instead confided in his mother, though to play it safe, he did not mention who he got dumped for. James's mother, Mrs. Rhodes to most but Laura to her friends, was his confidant. She soothed her son, a son who was almost a mirror of herself. His father always complained about James looking too "girly," and he was right; whenever Laura's friends would see James, they would ask her if she had three ********* instead of two. Despite how James looked, with his growing blonde hair, his slight frame, and his wide hips, which set him apart from his peers, Laura loved her son deeply, letting him cry into her.
His sisters were another matter; they could not be allowed to know about any of this. They would tease him relentlessly. He got it the worst from Sophia, the eldest. She, much like him, got her looks from their mother but the fiery red hair and attitude from their father. She was on much closer terms with him than James was and wasn't afraid of throwing around slurs and crude remarks. Rachel, his other sister, was different, still older than James, and teased him in another way. While Rachel probably didn't mean to sound insulting, she had long suspected James of being gay and offered to set him up with men she knew. Rachel was nothing like her father, a kinder woman, but in James's eyes, she was a person who didn't know when to keep her distance. She was the last person James wanted advice from, after all, as it felt like she had a new fling every other week, not a person you could count on to advise on a stable relationship.
It all culminated in a revelation James got while looking online for help with his woes. Maybe it was his cookies or his post history, but he got an email from a place called the Brunswick Norman Welter Organization. He didn't quite know what it was, but it looked like this Brunswick person had set up several clinics across the state out of pocket, and James happened to fall into a category that would allow him to get free therapy for his relationship woes. They supposedly came highly rated at resolving traumas and providing what they pioneered as a new form of physical therapy. With nothing to lose, he put his name down and awaited a response.
It was only a week later that he found himself on what his father would call "the bad side of town." James had wondered if he had been tricked when he got to the address, but it let him into an alley with only a single steel door frame and a large buzzer to the side of it. Tentatively, he pressed on the buzzer, awaiting some kind of response. He was close to leaving until...
"May I ask who this is?" A woman's voice called out from the speaker.
"Oh, my name is James Rhodes; I responded to an email from..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the door buzzed and clicked. Nervously, as anyone would be in what felt like a shady situation, he pushed into the door and was almost blinded by the light coming from inside. He found himself in a stark white corridor; it matched what he imagined for a waiting room, but it felt almost opulent with how shiny the marble flooring was—so polished he could almost see his reflection. Getting his bearings, he could see a few people waiting in seats on his left side. A mix of men and women, he tried to tie a common element together to figure out if there was something about them he could match to himself to figure out if there was a deeper reason why he was chosen. They were a mix of men and women; they were all white, which was a common element. The women were all attractive, and they reminded him of Christy. The men, however, all seemed to lack very much masculinity, as they were occasionally fidgeting uncomfortably. White and womanly... It was a little uncomfortable, but he thought he had mapped out a commonality.
"Mr Rhodes?"
A receptionist called out. She was a smaller woman who might have been in her 30s. She was dressed a bit too provocatively for someone in the medical field. She might have been wearing a dark blazer that was straining to keep in her large breasts. James tried his best not to focus on it by looking at her face, but his eyes were drawn to her pillowy red lips.
"Ah yes, I'm James; I have an appointment," he responded.
"Yes, just take the third door to your right down the hall; you'll need to change out of those clothes, but we have facilities for that."
Change clothes? James had come here in a comfortable hoodie and jeans, but he would need to get out of them for this. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth; after all, this was free.
He went into that room and changed into the clothes required, a small white hospital gown; it almost looked like he was in a dress. It was comfortably breezy, but he could not help but feel a little naked. The gown left little to the imagination, hugging against his hips.
Once changed, he entered the room where he would get his much-needed therapy. The office looked much like he imagined. A desk, bookshelves, and one of those funny little Newton ball ornaments sitting on the desk. He was not alone, as he found a woman there. This must be his therapist. She was not exactly what he imagined. He was ashamed to admit it to himself, but she looked like a total porn star, with full lips, a mess of blonde hair, wide hips, and wider tits looking like they were going to explode out of her dress.
"Ah, you must be James; I'm Nicole; it's nice to meet you!"
She leaned in and kissed his cheek, a motion that startled James and made him jump back a little bit.
"Oh, you're adorable; please be at ease. Here at the clinic, we think it's best to establish a little bit of intimacy. This might feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it."
Strange as it was, he settled into that seat, one he often imagined should have been in this kind of office, almost like a couch designed to be laid on.
"Now, James. Normally, we would do some establishing as to why you're here and what we hope to achieve with this therapy. Forgive me for being forward, but you seem to have some unresolved trauma in regards to your relationship with... Christy."
She shuffled with some papers on her desk. This should have been shocking, but it's clear they had done their research on him. James nodded.
"Right, right. Now we here at the clinic have pieced together what we believe to be the crux of the problem, but I'd like to hear what you think, just so I can get your perspective.".
James settled in and began to recount his relationship; he talked about how it started, how much his relationship felt strong to him at the time, and how his girlfriend left him for Dominic. Nicole listened closer to that.
"She told me that I wasn't man enough for her and that I didn't measure up.".
Nicole sat and listened to all of this for all the time James went on about it. When he had finished, she sat in contemplation.
"James, forgive me, but it sounds like Christy's happiness was not a priority for you?" She asked bluntly.
The remark caught James off guard.
"What do you mean? I loved her; I loved her for all of the time we spent together," he responded.
"I'm sure you did, but did you ask her how she felt? I'm sure you told her how much you were in love with her, but how often did she profess her love for you?"
James thought about that for a moment.
"Well, early when we were together, she would tell me often, but as we grew older, she did not tell me those things as much."
This was getting uncomfortable, but this was therapy. It might start uncomfortable, but it could get better.
"This is when you were not man enough."
Nicole was paying rapt attention.
"She admitted this to me close to the end of our relationship.".
Nicole nodded along with this.
"She left you for Dominic; now I'm sure you know, but Dominic is strong, athletic, and dominant. These things are lacking in you."
Nicole was curt, but she was not wrong.
"You could say that."
James was getting more uncomfortable, but she wasn't lying; it was then that she said something that felt like it came from out of nowhere.
"She left you because he is black and you are white.".
James could only look with astonishment.
"It is an uncomfortable thought; that much I can understand, but have you taken a good look at yourself? You're white, weak, and have a womanly figure. Honestly, if I were Christy, I would have left you long ago.".
This was shocking. Was this woman a real therapist? He was about to raise his voice in protest before being cut off.
"We can help you; we can fix you. If you listen to me and follow my instructions, you won't feel pain anymore. Wouldn't you like to live a life free from suffering like this? I need your trust."
James was growing skeptical, but his desire to be free of his pain kept him in his seat.
"Forgive me, but Christy left you because you're a weak white faggot.".
She said it so casually, with no regard for her language.
"Excuse me, that."
She cut him off.
"Shut the fuck up, you white bitch; you need to hear the truth. It's going to be easier for both of us if you sit your ass down and listen."
This shocked James, but he was being put into his place; even if he did not know it, he wanted to protest; he wanted to leave, but something compelled him to stay seated. Her attitude had shifted drastically; this must be a part of the therapy.
"You whites have kept your betters down long enough, and we're going to fix you. If you want this therapy to be effective, you're going to lie down, face down, and ass up."
What brought about this sudden crassness? Anyone else would scream and shout, but James did nothing but comply. It was only moments later, with Nicole rummaging through her desk, that she came to James.
"Don't move; this is our physical therapy; you're about to become free.".
The alarms were going off, but his heart was yelling at him for the relief Nicole would provide; his woes would be washed away.
His underwear was pulled down, and cold liquid ran down his ass. He buried his head in a pillow to suppress a yelp. Something was pressing itself against his asshole.
"You need to take this, shut your mouth, and spread yourself."
Nicole forced a plug into James; it was big, black, and shaped like a spade. This was insane, but she shoved him down and forced him inside. It felt... It felt right. James's hole was being filled so perfectly with this plug that it made his toes curl.
"I knew you were a faggot..."
She forced his face down into his pillow.
"We're going to fix you, but you need to learn the mantra. The mantra that you'll repeat every day until you die."
James's mind was overwhelmed by how stretched out he was; he'd agree to anything. The pain was immense, but a strange pleasure washed over him.
"Repeat after me. Black is better, white is worse." Nicole whispered to him.
"B-Black... is better."
She smacked his ass hard. "Louder!"
"Black is better, white is worse!" He yelled out.
Just as he said that, the plug began to vibrate, and his prostate was being battered by the shaking of the toy inside of him, making his hips buckle.
Nicole took his arms, and in James's weak state, she tied them together with cuffs. She instructed him to repeat the mantra. Every time he did, the plug pulsed harder.
"Keep saying it, over and over."
She returned to her desk, just watching as James, in his powerless state, just kept blurting out the mantra; he wasn't in control of his body anymore.
"B-Black is better! White is worse!"
His little cock began to dribble onto the couch.
"Black lives matter; say it," Nicole demanded.
"Black lives matter! Black Lives Matter!"
The plug pulsed even harder, and he came a full load into that couch. He collapsed into a mess of people, if one could call it that. His mind was full of fog, and his hips were shaking. He looked up and saw Nicole and a woman, a woman who hated him.
"You're receptive; that's good. I'm going to start the second phase."
'Second phase? There was more to this?' he thought.
Nicole took out her phone and made a call—a call James could hardly hear as he was overwhelmed by the height of his orgasm.
"Tch. One hour, fine. The little cuck should be able to handle it."
She ended the call and ruffled through her desk again.
"I'm going to get ready; this should keep you busy."
She approached him and slipped something over his eyes; it was a VR headset. He could see nothing but darkness, but suddenly he was overwhelmed with pornography of innocent little white women getting dicked down by black men—his betters. He was receptive to this.
James was being taken over, but his "therapy" had only just begun.
Getting dumped by your girlfriend is something that stings. Getting dumped by your high school sweetheart for so many years is more like a bullet. James had to come to the uncomfortable realization that he was not good enough for Christy, a girl he had loved and shared so much with. He would ask why, but that only hurt him more. He was not "man" enough; he couldn't "measure up." Christy had left him for Dominic at the end of their senior year, and Dominic was four times the man that James was; he was fit and athletic, charming, and if the rumors about him were true, he was "well endowed." Dominic just had more of an advantage with women than James could hope for. Dominic had it in his blood—dark and handsome—and Christy was not his first, not by a long shot.
Yes, getting dumped is painful, but James had allowed despair to coat him for almost a year, never being able to form the same kind of connection since. His ****** was a little help. While James was not politically aligned with his father, he loved and respected him, but not enough to tell him who he got dumped for. No doubt his father would berate him for losing to a "nigger." He instead confided in his mother, though to play it safe, he did not mention who he got dumped for. James's mother, Mrs. Rhodes to most but Laura to her friends, was his confidant. She soothed her son, a son who was almost a mirror of herself. His father always complained about James looking too "girly," and he was right; whenever Laura's friends would see James, they would ask her if she had three ********* instead of two. Despite how James looked, with his growing blonde hair, his slight frame, and his wide hips, which set him apart from his peers, Laura loved her son deeply, letting him cry into her.
His sisters were another matter; they could not be allowed to know about any of this. They would tease him relentlessly. He got it the worst from Sophia, the eldest. She, much like him, got her looks from their mother but the fiery red hair and attitude from their father. She was on much closer terms with him than James was and wasn't afraid of throwing around slurs and crude remarks. Rachel, his other sister, was different, still older than James, and teased him in another way. While Rachel probably didn't mean to sound insulting, she had long suspected James of being gay and offered to set him up with men she knew. Rachel was nothing like her father, a kinder woman, but in James's eyes, she was a person who didn't know when to keep her distance. She was the last person James wanted advice from, after all, as it felt like she had a new fling every other week, not a person you could count on to advise on a stable relationship.
It all culminated in a revelation James got while looking online for help with his woes. Maybe it was his cookies or his post history, but he got an email from a place called the Brunswick Norman Welter Organization. He didn't quite know what it was, but it looked like this Brunswick person had set up several clinics across the state out of pocket, and James happened to fall into a category that would allow him to get free therapy for his relationship woes. They supposedly came highly rated at resolving traumas and providing what they pioneered as a new form of physical therapy. With nothing to lose, he put his name down and awaited a response.
It was only a week later that he found himself on what his father would call "the bad side of town." James had wondered if he had been tricked when he got to the address, but it let him into an alley with only a single steel door frame and a large buzzer to the side of it. Tentatively, he pressed on the buzzer, awaiting some kind of response. He was close to leaving until...
"May I ask who this is?" A woman's voice called out from the speaker.
"Oh, my name is James Rhodes; I responded to an email from..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the door buzzed and clicked. Nervously, as anyone would be in what felt like a shady situation, he pushed into the door and was almost blinded by the light coming from inside. He found himself in a stark white corridor; it matched what he imagined for a waiting room, but it felt almost opulent with how shiny the marble flooring was—so polished he could almost see his reflection. Getting his bearings, he could see a few people waiting in seats on his left side. A mix of men and women, he tried to tie a common element together to figure out if there was something about them he could match to himself to figure out if there was a deeper reason why he was chosen. They were a mix of men and women; they were all white, which was a common element. The women were all attractive, and they reminded him of Christy. The men, however, all seemed to lack very much masculinity, as they were occasionally fidgeting uncomfortably. White and womanly... It was a little uncomfortable, but he thought he had mapped out a commonality.
"Mr Rhodes?"
A receptionist called out. She was a smaller woman who might have been in her 30s. She was dressed a bit too provocatively for someone in the medical field. She might have been wearing a dark blazer that was straining to keep in her large breasts. James tried his best not to focus on it by looking at her face, but his eyes were drawn to her pillowy red lips.
"Ah yes, I'm James; I have an appointment," he responded.
"Yes, just take the third door to your right down the hall; you'll need to change out of those clothes, but we have facilities for that."
Change clothes? James had come here in a comfortable hoodie and jeans, but he would need to get out of them for this. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth; after all, this was free.
He went into that room and changed into the clothes required, a small white hospital gown; it almost looked like he was in a dress. It was comfortably breezy, but he could not help but feel a little naked. The gown left little to the imagination, hugging against his hips.
Once changed, he entered the room where he would get his much-needed therapy. The office looked much like he imagined. A desk, bookshelves, and one of those funny little Newton ball ornaments sitting on the desk. He was not alone, as he found a woman there. This must be his therapist. She was not exactly what he imagined. He was ashamed to admit it to himself, but she looked like a total porn star, with full lips, a mess of blonde hair, wide hips, and wider tits looking like they were going to explode out of her dress.
"Ah, you must be James; I'm Nicole; it's nice to meet you!"
She leaned in and kissed his cheek, a motion that startled James and made him jump back a little bit.
"Oh, you're adorable; please be at ease. Here at the clinic, we think it's best to establish a little bit of intimacy. This might feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it."
Strange as it was, he settled into that seat, one he often imagined should have been in this kind of office, almost like a couch designed to be laid on.
"Now, James. Normally, we would do some establishing as to why you're here and what we hope to achieve with this therapy. Forgive me for being forward, but you seem to have some unresolved trauma in regards to your relationship with... Christy."
She shuffled with some papers on her desk. This should have been shocking, but it's clear they had done their research on him. James nodded.
"Right, right. Now we here at the clinic have pieced together what we believe to be the crux of the problem, but I'd like to hear what you think, just so I can get your perspective.".
James settled in and began to recount his relationship; he talked about how it started, how much his relationship felt strong to him at the time, and how his girlfriend left him for Dominic. Nicole listened closer to that.
"She told me that I wasn't man enough for her and that I didn't measure up.".
Nicole sat and listened to all of this for all the time James went on about it. When he had finished, she sat in contemplation.
"James, forgive me, but it sounds like Christy's happiness was not a priority for you?" She asked bluntly.
The remark caught James off guard.
"What do you mean? I loved her; I loved her for all of the time we spent together," he responded.
"I'm sure you did, but did you ask her how she felt? I'm sure you told her how much you were in love with her, but how often did she profess her love for you?"
James thought about that for a moment.
"Well, early when we were together, she would tell me often, but as we grew older, she did not tell me those things as much."
This was getting uncomfortable, but this was therapy. It might start uncomfortable, but it could get better.
"This is when you were not man enough."
Nicole was paying rapt attention.
"She admitted this to me close to the end of our relationship.".
Nicole nodded along with this.
"She left you for Dominic; now I'm sure you know, but Dominic is strong, athletic, and dominant. These things are lacking in you."
Nicole was curt, but she was not wrong.
"You could say that."
James was getting more uncomfortable, but she wasn't lying; it was then that she said something that felt like it came from out of nowhere.
"She left you because he is black and you are white.".
James could only look with astonishment.
"It is an uncomfortable thought; that much I can understand, but have you taken a good look at yourself? You're white, weak, and have a womanly figure. Honestly, if I were Christy, I would have left you long ago.".
This was shocking. Was this woman a real therapist? He was about to raise his voice in protest before being cut off.
"We can help you; we can fix you. If you listen to me and follow my instructions, you won't feel pain anymore. Wouldn't you like to live a life free from suffering like this? I need your trust."
James was growing skeptical, but his desire to be free of his pain kept him in his seat.
"Forgive me, but Christy left you because you're a weak white faggot.".
She said it so casually, with no regard for her language.
"Excuse me, that."
She cut him off.
"Shut the fuck up, you white bitch; you need to hear the truth. It's going to be easier for both of us if you sit your ass down and listen."
This shocked James, but he was being put into his place; even if he did not know it, he wanted to protest; he wanted to leave, but something compelled him to stay seated. Her attitude had shifted drastically; this must be a part of the therapy.
"You whites have kept your betters down long enough, and we're going to fix you. If you want this therapy to be effective, you're going to lie down, face down, and ass up."
What brought about this sudden crassness? Anyone else would scream and shout, but James did nothing but comply. It was only moments later, with Nicole rummaging through her desk, that she came to James.
"Don't move; this is our physical therapy; you're about to become free.".
The alarms were going off, but his heart was yelling at him for the relief Nicole would provide; his woes would be washed away.
His underwear was pulled down, and cold liquid ran down his ass. He buried his head in a pillow to suppress a yelp. Something was pressing itself against his asshole.
"You need to take this, shut your mouth, and spread yourself."
Nicole forced a plug into James; it was big, black, and shaped like a spade. This was insane, but she shoved him down and forced him inside. It felt... It felt right. James's hole was being filled so perfectly with this plug that it made his toes curl.
"I knew you were a faggot..."
She forced his face down into his pillow.
"We're going to fix you, but you need to learn the mantra. The mantra that you'll repeat every day until you die."
James's mind was overwhelmed by how stretched out he was; he'd agree to anything. The pain was immense, but a strange pleasure washed over him.
"Repeat after me. Black is better, white is worse." Nicole whispered to him.
"B-Black... is better."
She smacked his ass hard. "Louder!"
"Black is better, white is worse!" He yelled out.
Just as he said that, the plug began to vibrate, and his prostate was being battered by the shaking of the toy inside of him, making his hips buckle.
Nicole took his arms, and in James's weak state, she tied them together with cuffs. She instructed him to repeat the mantra. Every time he did, the plug pulsed harder.
"Keep saying it, over and over."
She returned to her desk, just watching as James, in his powerless state, just kept blurting out the mantra; he wasn't in control of his body anymore.
"B-Black is better! White is worse!"
His little cock began to dribble onto the couch.
"Black lives matter; say it," Nicole demanded.
"Black lives matter! Black Lives Matter!"
The plug pulsed even harder, and he came a full load into that couch. He collapsed into a mess of people, if one could call it that. His mind was full of fog, and his hips were shaking. He looked up and saw Nicole and a woman, a woman who hated him.
"You're receptive; that's good. I'm going to start the second phase."
'Second phase? There was more to this?' he thought.
Nicole took out her phone and made a call—a call James could hardly hear as he was overwhelmed by the height of his orgasm.
"Tch. One hour, fine. The little cuck should be able to handle it."
She ended the call and ruffled through her desk again.
"I'm going to get ready; this should keep you busy."
She approached him and slipped something over his eyes; it was a VR headset. He could see nothing but darkness, but suddenly he was overwhelmed with pornography of innocent little white women getting dicked down by black men—his betters. He was receptive to this.
James was being taken over, but his "therapy" had only just begun.
Ch. 02 The Wash
Why did James allow himself to submit so quickly and so willingly? He found himself folding to demands too quickly in his day-to-day life, letting others take advantage of him. Now here he was, his hole filled, stuffed to the brim. He wasn't forced to be here, but his body felt far too heavy; the weight and heft of the humming instrument inside of him kept his hips in place; and the headset covering his eyes and ears felt far too heavy. He could protest; his mouth was not gagged. One word, and he could leave if they would let him, but doesn't it matter to try? No, he was here to get better, and Dr. Nicole offered him salvation from his woes, and he was far too desperate to be free of those isolating feelings. That was the reason.
He did nothing but focus on the footage being beamed into his eyes. The prospect of an interracial breeding session burned into his retinas. He saw a tall and powerful-looking black man who hung in a way that could not be real. This black man's dick made James's own a pinprick in comparison. The man was not alone, as coming into frame was a buxom woman with hair that bordered on platinum and silver; she wore lingerie, but her adornments were so small and tight that she might as well have been naked herself; band-aids would have covered more of her than the sparse bra and slight thong.
"You ready to get that good dick bitch?" The dark man asked almost rhetorically. The woman wasted no time getting on her knees as she began to salivate and press her nose against his sack. In those few moments, she basked in his masculinity before beginning her worship of kissing and licking in adoration. The lurid display just for this black God was shown to James, and it made his little nub stand out. She pressed her pillowy lips against his tip and began to take him all in, his size bulging her throat. When it seemed to choke her and cause her pain, she could do nothing more than just look up with love at her master with all 14 inches inside of her. Her make-up ran down her face as her eyes teared up from gagging. She kept looking as if not her throat were the object of pleasure, but her expression was.
James watched; he could do nothing but watch as she gagged and sucked like a whore for him, rode him, let him push her down, and breed her fast and hard before finally dumping his fat seed inside of her well-used pussycat. "God, I'm so glad I left my wimp of a white boyfriend for you; you know how to really fuck a lady~". That should have stung, but James could see the truth laid out before him.
It wasn't the last of these images—different scenes with the same context of white women getting glazed and filled with water washed over him. The closer he paid attention, the greater his pleasure, and as the instrument inside him hummed louder and stronger, the deeper he fell into this abyss. James was a drooling mess as he blindly started to dribble out of his little cock, spending what strength he could muster on one pathetic load. Closing his eyes, the exhaustion taking over, he collapsed. The files kept playing in his unconscious state—black breeding, something he could never measure up to.
A sudden jolt of pain hit him as he felt the spade inside of him being pulled away, his ass suckling it, not wanting to let it go. An audible pop sounded as the object gaping in his insides was forcefully removed, making him feel empty inside. He could no longer hear or see the interracial breeding sessions; had it been an hour?
"You can take that off now. You're clearly receptive to the treatment." The voice was Dr. Nicole, his *therapist*. James brought his weak arms up and wrapped his hands around the headset to lift it off, but he was almost blinded by how bright and white the room around him was. He was still in that office, but it felt like he was being flashed with headlights.
"What's going on? Dr. Nicole, what was that for?" James squeaked out as he looked at her. She was no longer wearing the tight suit that clung to her body tightly; she looked much more dangerous and fit for a BDSM session than a consultation. A black corset, matching pants, and thigh-high boots marked a startling change in appearance, but James' eyes were drawn to a distinctive mark on her neck he had not noticed before; it looked like a spade, like you'd see in a set of playing cards with a "Q" in the center.
"Little white bitches who don't understand their place are drawn here. Though we've had our eye on you for a while now, We're on the lookout for people who need to be corrected and put on the right path. Racists like you, I mean." She said that she was looking at James as if he were a worm.
"Racist? No, I couldn't be; I've never done anything racist in my life!" James protested.
"Really, you kept a beautiful lady placid and chained for years, and when she finally opened her eyes, you felt entitled to those feelings you had when you were together. You were supposed to suffer through it and accept it for what it was; instead, you ended up here." The clinic was watching James.
"How much do you know about me?" He asked with growing concern.
"Well, we know that while you aren't exactly the conservative type, you do nothing about those around you. You know your father thinks of his betters as subhumans, and you say nothing in protest." She knew about his ******. "Don't worry though, we certainly won't tell them about this little exploit ourselves; that's a promise, not that a piece of trash like you deserves it." She hated him, his therapist hated him, and still he did not leave.
"We will give you relief, so long as you accept these feelings and let them wash over you. When you do, you'll find your life much more pleasurable in your place." She moved to her desk and pressed a button linked to an intercom. "You can tell Darius that he's free to come in." Darius? There was something deep in James's stomach that began to well as he turned to the door and saw a familiar face. It was the first man he saw in the footage, the *Dark God*, who took control over all of the white meat, using it for his pleasure.
"Well, Nicole, look at this fuckable piece of ass; you have him on hormones already?" Darius asked, inspecting James like a cow at an auction. Darius was clothed in a black robe that fit him snuggly—a bit too snuggly, as James could not help but eye the bulge of this black man's crotch.
"Would you be surprised if I said no? This little fag comes like this out of the package," Nicole responded. They were talking about James, but he felt like he wasn't really there; he didn't protest; he was not in a position to.
"Well, James, part two of our program is exposure therapy; after all, to cure that racist mind of yours, you need to face your fears head-on." Nicole watched as Darius approached the couch where James was sitting. "I'm not sure if... if this is..."
It was sudden, a hand wrapped around James's throat, lifting him up, choking him, and pinning him to the nearby wall with a powerful slam. He felt the wind leave his body. "Black men are stronger and much more violent than weak little white boi's; you need to be roughed up in a realistic situation; know how it feels to be oppressed." Nicole watched this with rapt attention.
"Let's see how you handle this." Darius loosened his grip but wound back and socked James in the gut, forcing the boy to immediately wheeze and crumple over in pain, his body on the floor, only able to look up in pain at this dark master. Darius pressed his bare foot against James's forehead, forcing his eyes up further. "If you don't want me to kick the shit out of you, kiss the feet of your master," Darius demanded. James could not handle it; he felt like he would really die if this man wound up with a kick, and so he immediately obeyed, kissing the feet of his superior. "Quick learner," Darius remarked as he looked down at James, who was unable to do much more than kiss and peck at his foot.
"I know this is work, but you're such a turn-on~ Just seeing you choke that little bitch got me all wet." Her arousal was heavy in her words; seeing James submit was bringing her pleasure.
"I'm going to fuck this white bitch; you're going to watch me knock her up, and you're going to do whatever th' fuck I say, white boy." Darius stomped James in the face once, pressing the boy's face into the ground.
"Yes, sir, anything! I promise!" James yelled out.
"This is part two; you've already had your first encounter, but now you need to understand where you lie in the gene pool, outside of it." Nicole sat her fat, pillowy ass on top of her desk as she exposed herself further. "The footage we showed you won't compare to the real thing; we're going to give you your new favorite pastime, and when we're done with you, those feelings you had about... what was her name again? Those will be replaced with adoration for the Black New World Order."
James nodded. This was the first time he had heard of that; it sounded familiar to him. This was the truth of the clinic: all those men and women waiting outside those doors were all going to get beaten, fucked, and washed with black supremacy, just like him.
James's blonde hair was roughly tugged as Darius dragged James up, dragging the boy painfully right next to Nicole's desk. "I bet you want this black dick, but it's not for you tonight, but you got a set of fuckable lips on you so you can get me ready." Darius disrobed, revealing his dark ebony body, his strong physique, and the very big black cock he had. "Worship it, you little piece of trash, unless you want me to fuck your throat raw," Darius threatened. James obliged; he weakly crawled up, holding Darius's knees with his hands, to climb closer before getting slapped hard. "Nah, no hands; dumb fucking bitches don't need to put their hands on me," Darius yanked James up so that the white boy could face that cock.
"Well, James, you've seen the footage; get to work!" Nicole ordered.
The smell was just as he imagined—overpowering, a deep musk. James's lips quivered as he pressed them against the tip. God, he could hardly fit the thing in his mouth. Amateurishly, he sucked and rolled his tongue around it. Getting it harder, it pulsed against his soft lips. He ran his lips up and down the sides of his lips, getting them ready. James did as instructed; this was his new God. Sucking those nuts, swelling with seed, and pressing his nose against them, it took over him. Against his better judgment, he returned to the tip and forced his mouth open, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He was a natural, getting inch after inch inside of him. There was no way he could fit the full mast in there, but choking as he was, he looked up at Darius. It was love.
Gagging, spitting, and choking, James was the whore he needed to be. A rough slap knocked him out of his reverence. "Damn bitch, you must really want my nut; you'll get it soon. Now watch. Watch the ********; you're a part of this now." ********? James was cockdrunk, but even he thought that it was a strange thing to bring up. "That's right, bitch, white ********; you fuckers don't get to fuck any more; we're breeding you out." Darius slapped his cock down against Nicole's waiting wet hole; it was slick and inviting as she moved her pants to the side for him.
"That's right, James, women are black only, and you need to be a part of that." Nicole sounded hungry as she invited Darius inside.
"Oh! Oh, fuck, you're big! Yesss!" Nicole moaned out as inch after inch pushed inside. His insane girth filled this woman in a way James never could. "Fuck me! Show this little white fucker what it means to be on top!" Nicole yelled out as Darius began to thrust into her. The sight of this breeding filled James's vision, and the wet and powerful slapping of every pump as his thick nuts clapped against her ass filled the room. Nicole was nothing more than white fuckmeat now; all of her authority as a therapist and as a doctor faded away and was replaced by her moans of rapt pleasure.
"GOD YES! BLACK IS BETTER! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! BLA~AAAAH~CK IS BETTER!" Her legs went up high as Darius anchored his arms against them to swing his hips back for long, hard thrusts. It was hypnotic watching Nicole get bred; her womb was nothing more than a receptacle for Darius's black seed.
"God, this fuckin' white pussy belongs to me! Fucking slut, eyy, make yourself useful, or I'm going to fucking stomp on you."
Darius looked back at James, his arousal mixed with fear. How could James help? Darius was already fucking Nicole harder than James could ever hope to; he couldn't make Nicole feel better. He watched as Darius kept swinging his hips back, his perfectly muscled black ass shimmering in the light of the office. His perfect ass... James got closer, and with no hesitation, he pressed his face up against Darius's cheeks and rimmed him. Suckling, kissing, slobbering, and running his lips and tongue for his master's pleasure. Darius grunted in approval, speeding up. He was going at it for what felt like an age, time slowing as James's worshipped his God's hole.
"I'm going to knock you up! Here it comes, bitch!" Darius went harder than ever, rocking the desk and getting close to breaking it.
"YES! YES! I'M YOUR SLUT! WHITES ARE SLUTS FOR YOU! Just give me your cue! I NEED IT!" She took her legs from his grip and wrapped them around Darius's waist as he forced his entire girth inside, painting this woman's womb white with his thick load.
"Damn bitch, fuck... You're a real slut, in and out of hours, fuck."
The black master was exhausted; he pulled out and shot a second load across her chest, dirtying her corset. All through that, James did not stop rimming for even a second, still making love to that godly asshole. Jolted out of his trance by his hair being tugged again, James was tossed to the side. "Damn, this little white boy has potential. I can count on both hands the number of little fags I've stomped the fuck out in this office, but it looks like we're keepin' you around this time, so much as I'd enjoy putting another white boy in the ground." Darius moved to pick up his robe to make his exit. He looked back at the sight of the well-fucked woman and the pathetic little cuck; it was almost worth all the years of discrimination.
"Eat up, cucky." Nicole tugged at James with her toes, pulling him to her well-worn pussycat. As instructed, James lapped and licked, swallowing that deep and thick load. The taste was not what he expected, but he found himself desiring it more and more. "Well, it looks like you're receptive enough for phase three; we're going to get you nice and branded, and then you'll be ready to be another little agent, teaching cucks like you their place and women the truth they've been blind to." Nicole reached over the side of her desk and pulled out a pack of cigarettes as her wet cunt was being tongued. She lit one up, inhaling and dashing the ashes on James's head. "You're going to be a good little race traitor, aren't you?" She asked.
"Yes, I'll do anything." James meekly responded, returning to his sole duty tonight, eager to follow up.
He did nothing but focus on the footage being beamed into his eyes. The prospect of an interracial breeding session burned into his retinas. He saw a tall and powerful-looking black man who hung in a way that could not be real. This black man's dick made James's own a pinprick in comparison. The man was not alone, as coming into frame was a buxom woman with hair that bordered on platinum and silver; she wore lingerie, but her adornments were so small and tight that she might as well have been naked herself; band-aids would have covered more of her than the sparse bra and slight thong.
"You ready to get that good dick bitch?" The dark man asked almost rhetorically. The woman wasted no time getting on her knees as she began to salivate and press her nose against his sack. In those few moments, she basked in his masculinity before beginning her worship of kissing and licking in adoration. The lurid display just for this black God was shown to James, and it made his little nub stand out. She pressed her pillowy lips against his tip and began to take him all in, his size bulging her throat. When it seemed to choke her and cause her pain, she could do nothing more than just look up with love at her master with all 14 inches inside of her. Her make-up ran down her face as her eyes teared up from gagging. She kept looking as if not her throat were the object of pleasure, but her expression was.
James watched; he could do nothing but watch as she gagged and sucked like a whore for him, rode him, let him push her down, and breed her fast and hard before finally dumping his fat seed inside of her well-used pussycat. "God, I'm so glad I left my wimp of a white boyfriend for you; you know how to really fuck a lady~". That should have stung, but James could see the truth laid out before him.
It wasn't the last of these images—different scenes with the same context of white women getting glazed and filled with water washed over him. The closer he paid attention, the greater his pleasure, and as the instrument inside him hummed louder and stronger, the deeper he fell into this abyss. James was a drooling mess as he blindly started to dribble out of his little cock, spending what strength he could muster on one pathetic load. Closing his eyes, the exhaustion taking over, he collapsed. The files kept playing in his unconscious state—black breeding, something he could never measure up to.
A sudden jolt of pain hit him as he felt the spade inside of him being pulled away, his ass suckling it, not wanting to let it go. An audible pop sounded as the object gaping in his insides was forcefully removed, making him feel empty inside. He could no longer hear or see the interracial breeding sessions; had it been an hour?
"You can take that off now. You're clearly receptive to the treatment." The voice was Dr. Nicole, his *therapist*. James brought his weak arms up and wrapped his hands around the headset to lift it off, but he was almost blinded by how bright and white the room around him was. He was still in that office, but it felt like he was being flashed with headlights.
"What's going on? Dr. Nicole, what was that for?" James squeaked out as he looked at her. She was no longer wearing the tight suit that clung to her body tightly; she looked much more dangerous and fit for a BDSM session than a consultation. A black corset, matching pants, and thigh-high boots marked a startling change in appearance, but James' eyes were drawn to a distinctive mark on her neck he had not noticed before; it looked like a spade, like you'd see in a set of playing cards with a "Q" in the center.
"Little white bitches who don't understand their place are drawn here. Though we've had our eye on you for a while now, We're on the lookout for people who need to be corrected and put on the right path. Racists like you, I mean." She said that she was looking at James as if he were a worm.
"Racist? No, I couldn't be; I've never done anything racist in my life!" James protested.
"Really, you kept a beautiful lady placid and chained for years, and when she finally opened her eyes, you felt entitled to those feelings you had when you were together. You were supposed to suffer through it and accept it for what it was; instead, you ended up here." The clinic was watching James.
"How much do you know about me?" He asked with growing concern.
"Well, we know that while you aren't exactly the conservative type, you do nothing about those around you. You know your father thinks of his betters as subhumans, and you say nothing in protest." She knew about his ******. "Don't worry though, we certainly won't tell them about this little exploit ourselves; that's a promise, not that a piece of trash like you deserves it." She hated him, his therapist hated him, and still he did not leave.
"We will give you relief, so long as you accept these feelings and let them wash over you. When you do, you'll find your life much more pleasurable in your place." She moved to her desk and pressed a button linked to an intercom. "You can tell Darius that he's free to come in." Darius? There was something deep in James's stomach that began to well as he turned to the door and saw a familiar face. It was the first man he saw in the footage, the *Dark God*, who took control over all of the white meat, using it for his pleasure.
"Well, Nicole, look at this fuckable piece of ass; you have him on hormones already?" Darius asked, inspecting James like a cow at an auction. Darius was clothed in a black robe that fit him snuggly—a bit too snuggly, as James could not help but eye the bulge of this black man's crotch.
"Would you be surprised if I said no? This little fag comes like this out of the package," Nicole responded. They were talking about James, but he felt like he wasn't really there; he didn't protest; he was not in a position to.
"Well, James, part two of our program is exposure therapy; after all, to cure that racist mind of yours, you need to face your fears head-on." Nicole watched as Darius approached the couch where James was sitting. "I'm not sure if... if this is..."
It was sudden, a hand wrapped around James's throat, lifting him up, choking him, and pinning him to the nearby wall with a powerful slam. He felt the wind leave his body. "Black men are stronger and much more violent than weak little white boi's; you need to be roughed up in a realistic situation; know how it feels to be oppressed." Nicole watched this with rapt attention.
"Let's see how you handle this." Darius loosened his grip but wound back and socked James in the gut, forcing the boy to immediately wheeze and crumple over in pain, his body on the floor, only able to look up in pain at this dark master. Darius pressed his bare foot against James's forehead, forcing his eyes up further. "If you don't want me to kick the shit out of you, kiss the feet of your master," Darius demanded. James could not handle it; he felt like he would really die if this man wound up with a kick, and so he immediately obeyed, kissing the feet of his superior. "Quick learner," Darius remarked as he looked down at James, who was unable to do much more than kiss and peck at his foot.
"I know this is work, but you're such a turn-on~ Just seeing you choke that little bitch got me all wet." Her arousal was heavy in her words; seeing James submit was bringing her pleasure.
"I'm going to fuck this white bitch; you're going to watch me knock her up, and you're going to do whatever th' fuck I say, white boy." Darius stomped James in the face once, pressing the boy's face into the ground.
"Yes, sir, anything! I promise!" James yelled out.
"This is part two; you've already had your first encounter, but now you need to understand where you lie in the gene pool, outside of it." Nicole sat her fat, pillowy ass on top of her desk as she exposed herself further. "The footage we showed you won't compare to the real thing; we're going to give you your new favorite pastime, and when we're done with you, those feelings you had about... what was her name again? Those will be replaced with adoration for the Black New World Order."
James nodded. This was the first time he had heard of that; it sounded familiar to him. This was the truth of the clinic: all those men and women waiting outside those doors were all going to get beaten, fucked, and washed with black supremacy, just like him.
James's blonde hair was roughly tugged as Darius dragged James up, dragging the boy painfully right next to Nicole's desk. "I bet you want this black dick, but it's not for you tonight, but you got a set of fuckable lips on you so you can get me ready." Darius disrobed, revealing his dark ebony body, his strong physique, and the very big black cock he had. "Worship it, you little piece of trash, unless you want me to fuck your throat raw," Darius threatened. James obliged; he weakly crawled up, holding Darius's knees with his hands, to climb closer before getting slapped hard. "Nah, no hands; dumb fucking bitches don't need to put their hands on me," Darius yanked James up so that the white boy could face that cock.
"Well, James, you've seen the footage; get to work!" Nicole ordered.
The smell was just as he imagined—overpowering, a deep musk. James's lips quivered as he pressed them against the tip. God, he could hardly fit the thing in his mouth. Amateurishly, he sucked and rolled his tongue around it. Getting it harder, it pulsed against his soft lips. He ran his lips up and down the sides of his lips, getting them ready. James did as instructed; this was his new God. Sucking those nuts, swelling with seed, and pressing his nose against them, it took over him. Against his better judgment, he returned to the tip and forced his mouth open, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He was a natural, getting inch after inch inside of him. There was no way he could fit the full mast in there, but choking as he was, he looked up at Darius. It was love.
Gagging, spitting, and choking, James was the whore he needed to be. A rough slap knocked him out of his reverence. "Damn bitch, you must really want my nut; you'll get it soon. Now watch. Watch the ********; you're a part of this now." ********? James was cockdrunk, but even he thought that it was a strange thing to bring up. "That's right, bitch, white ********; you fuckers don't get to fuck any more; we're breeding you out." Darius slapped his cock down against Nicole's waiting wet hole; it was slick and inviting as she moved her pants to the side for him.
"That's right, James, women are black only, and you need to be a part of that." Nicole sounded hungry as she invited Darius inside.
"Oh! Oh, fuck, you're big! Yesss!" Nicole moaned out as inch after inch pushed inside. His insane girth filled this woman in a way James never could. "Fuck me! Show this little white fucker what it means to be on top!" Nicole yelled out as Darius began to thrust into her. The sight of this breeding filled James's vision, and the wet and powerful slapping of every pump as his thick nuts clapped against her ass filled the room. Nicole was nothing more than white fuckmeat now; all of her authority as a therapist and as a doctor faded away and was replaced by her moans of rapt pleasure.
"GOD YES! BLACK IS BETTER! FUCK ME! FUCK ME! BLA~AAAAH~CK IS BETTER!" Her legs went up high as Darius anchored his arms against them to swing his hips back for long, hard thrusts. It was hypnotic watching Nicole get bred; her womb was nothing more than a receptacle for Darius's black seed.
"God, this fuckin' white pussy belongs to me! Fucking slut, eyy, make yourself useful, or I'm going to fucking stomp on you."
Darius looked back at James, his arousal mixed with fear. How could James help? Darius was already fucking Nicole harder than James could ever hope to; he couldn't make Nicole feel better. He watched as Darius kept swinging his hips back, his perfectly muscled black ass shimmering in the light of the office. His perfect ass... James got closer, and with no hesitation, he pressed his face up against Darius's cheeks and rimmed him. Suckling, kissing, slobbering, and running his lips and tongue for his master's pleasure. Darius grunted in approval, speeding up. He was going at it for what felt like an age, time slowing as James's worshipped his God's hole.
"I'm going to knock you up! Here it comes, bitch!" Darius went harder than ever, rocking the desk and getting close to breaking it.
"YES! YES! I'M YOUR SLUT! WHITES ARE SLUTS FOR YOU! Just give me your cue! I NEED IT!" She took her legs from his grip and wrapped them around Darius's waist as he forced his entire girth inside, painting this woman's womb white with his thick load.
"Damn bitch, fuck... You're a real slut, in and out of hours, fuck."
The black master was exhausted; he pulled out and shot a second load across her chest, dirtying her corset. All through that, James did not stop rimming for even a second, still making love to that godly asshole. Jolted out of his trance by his hair being tugged again, James was tossed to the side. "Damn, this little white boy has potential. I can count on both hands the number of little fags I've stomped the fuck out in this office, but it looks like we're keepin' you around this time, so much as I'd enjoy putting another white boy in the ground." Darius moved to pick up his robe to make his exit. He looked back at the sight of the well-fucked woman and the pathetic little cuck; it was almost worth all the years of discrimination.
"Eat up, cucky." Nicole tugged at James with her toes, pulling him to her well-worn pussycat. As instructed, James lapped and licked, swallowing that deep and thick load. The taste was not what he expected, but he found himself desiring it more and more. "Well, it looks like you're receptive enough for phase three; we're going to get you nice and branded, and then you'll be ready to be another little agent, teaching cucks like you their place and women the truth they've been blind to." Nicole reached over the side of her desk and pulled out a pack of cigarettes as her wet cunt was being tongued. She lit one up, inhaling and dashing the ashes on James's head. "You're going to be a good little race traitor, aren't you?" She asked.
"Yes, I'll do anything." James meekly responded, returning to his sole duty tonight, eager to follow up.
Ch. 03 Branded
The therapy was working. James had made a remarkable recovery from how he felt before coming to the clinic. His feelings of despair and lingering betrayal—those nasty racist little thoughts—were cleaned away. He knew it was wrong of him to think that way; after all, it was his place as a white boi to give everything to his new and true superiors.
He was to be branded, the final step to completing his therapy. He had already gotten a fill of cum from the doctor's cunt, but he couldn't help but feel a little greedy for more. However, his orders were to get cleaned up, and he couldn't go to his branding, which looked like a big cumstain. Nicole had already left him in her office; no doubt she was doing some very important work, perhaps on another whiteboard. Just thinking about Darius and Nicole putting their hands on another wimp and fucking him into a coma made his legs feel like they were made of jelly. Composing himself, he needed to focus on getting clean; he just needed to stand up regardless of how wobbly he was and make his way down the hall and to his left.
He kept on his hospital gown, even though it felt a little tight. He still had a little bit of decency left so that he wouldn't walk around naked. He stepped out of that hall and made his way to the facilities. This place was much bigger than he thought, in more than one sense. It was big in the sense that the building was much larger than anticipated, but it was also big in the sense that it had a mission to affect real social change. The thought of being a part of that movement filled James with joy, giving him a bounce to his step he hadn't had since... since he was with Christy.
Just as those thoughts crept back into his mind, he encountered a couple. A woman in a similar gown to James was a sprite of a girl compared to the women he had seen so far; she was a little shorter than James was, and her brunette hair was feathered up, though if that was her natural hairstyle or just a result of *therapy*, James could not be sure. She was clinging to a black man's arms; he was larger than Darius, muscled, but he was *heavier* looking comparatively.
"Thank God, I didn't think that little cuck would shut up. I'm so glad you got rid of him, baby." She held him close, pressing her face against his chest.
"That cracker really decided to run his mouth; I shoulda choked this shit out of him the second I saw him." His biceps were huge; he just put down a white boi who didn't know his place with those arms. James felt his neck, thinking that if he had protested, he could have very much not walked out of that room alive. It felt so right to James now, though. Being an object for a black man's righteous fury, it was too perfect.
"I'm going to have to give you a nice reward after all of this; after all, you de-" The woman finally noticed James as he was walking to get past them. All of her attention was focused on her man, and just having a white boi in her sights ruined her night.
"You got one more in you, John? I want to see this white boi croak." she asked so casually. A shiver ran up James' spine as John eyed him.
The beating came quick and hard; his weak little frame crumpled as this black man put him in his place on the ground. The pain was almost too much, but it felt right for James to become schlick fuel for this woman. A foot pressed against James' neck as John looked down on him, though he strangely released it.
"Oh. This is Nicole's new bitch; cracker throated Darius like a real thot; he was just talkin' about this little fag."
The woman pouted. "This little bitch? There's no way he could do some queen shit like that." She spat at James' face as he was laid out on the ground.
"This piece of ass is for fuckin' disposal, unless he starts acting all uppity." John remarked, looking down. He could see that even though he had beaten this boi, James' eyes were full of adoration despite being bruised up. "Lets go bitch; this pussy's got places to be, and you gotta be gagging on my cock; lets go bitch." He tugged her by the gown, leaving James in a crumpled state.
I thought if he hadn't been recognized, he would have been wiped out. The thought made him all tingly. He needed to complete the therapy quickly.
The shower was a reprieve from the assaults and sex; as much as he needed to get dicked, it was nice to let that water cleanse him. He lathered up, the soap making his bruised but effortlessly smooth skin nice and clean, running his hands down his hips and getting soaped up all over. He needed to be cleansed, and he spent the better part of ten minutes making sure he was pure for his branding. Being white was a curse, but he could do his part for the good of all of black society.
He would return to Nicole, ready for the final step. Every time he walked through this clinic, he could see the perfection of their society. Women getting black bred and white bois giving up everything—their holes, their lives, their privileges.
"Took you long enough; sit down so we can finish this," Nicole said as she was getting her equipment ready. This was a new room; it looked like it was previously some kind of prison, but through those bars, the woman who changed her life stood next to a big leather chair. Not wanting to wait a second more, James parked his soft ass down in that seat. "Now where are we going to put this?" Nicole thought aloud. In her hand, she held some kind of stamp coated with a dark substance. She contemplated for a while before making her demand. "We're going to give you a nice little tramp stamp; back your ass up," she ordered. With no delay, James flipped himself over and felt a strange cold gel being spread above the crack in his ass.
She pressed the stamp down, and it began to burn. It began to hurt. This wasn't ink; it wasn't a tattoo, but she wasn't using a cattle iron. James gripped the seat as he felt tears begin to well up, but she kept her hand firm. "This is permanent; you'll give your vows, or I'll drag this off, and you'll never be able to sit again." She snarled, still holding it in place.
"My vows?" James croaked out.
"Profess your submission to the BNWO, that you'll act as an agent of their change, that you're a worthless white faggot, just fucking say the words you already know to be true, you stupid piece of trash." She pressed harder as she chided him. He would say the words.
"I pledge my life to the BNWO." It hurt, but something was welling inside. "I will submit myself; I will submit others; whites are worthless and black is better!" The confidence rose above the pain. "My body, my life, and all those of the inferior white race, I will make them yours; I'll make them see the truth; I'm a worthless piece of fuckmeat, and all white fuckmeat belongs to the BNWO!" James shouted out.
Nicole let go. The black had infused into his skin, marking him permanently. Nobody could remove it; if they wanted to, they'd have to remove his skin. James's therapist felt pride in knowing another has fallen; so many recently just give up so easily that they can't serve as anything more than stress removal. Those whitebois needed to be removed, but James was different; the BNWO could use him in so many ways. James was panting from the ordeal, marked forever.
"Whites belong to the BNWO, all whites; do you know what I mean? You need to get to work."
The newly branded race traitor had no shame now. "I'll make my ****** pay what they owe.".
He was to be branded, the final step to completing his therapy. He had already gotten a fill of cum from the doctor's cunt, but he couldn't help but feel a little greedy for more. However, his orders were to get cleaned up, and he couldn't go to his branding, which looked like a big cumstain. Nicole had already left him in her office; no doubt she was doing some very important work, perhaps on another whiteboard. Just thinking about Darius and Nicole putting their hands on another wimp and fucking him into a coma made his legs feel like they were made of jelly. Composing himself, he needed to focus on getting clean; he just needed to stand up regardless of how wobbly he was and make his way down the hall and to his left.
He kept on his hospital gown, even though it felt a little tight. He still had a little bit of decency left so that he wouldn't walk around naked. He stepped out of that hall and made his way to the facilities. This place was much bigger than he thought, in more than one sense. It was big in the sense that the building was much larger than anticipated, but it was also big in the sense that it had a mission to affect real social change. The thought of being a part of that movement filled James with joy, giving him a bounce to his step he hadn't had since... since he was with Christy.
Just as those thoughts crept back into his mind, he encountered a couple. A woman in a similar gown to James was a sprite of a girl compared to the women he had seen so far; she was a little shorter than James was, and her brunette hair was feathered up, though if that was her natural hairstyle or just a result of *therapy*, James could not be sure. She was clinging to a black man's arms; he was larger than Darius, muscled, but he was *heavier* looking comparatively.
"Thank God, I didn't think that little cuck would shut up. I'm so glad you got rid of him, baby." She held him close, pressing her face against his chest.
"That cracker really decided to run his mouth; I shoulda choked this shit out of him the second I saw him." His biceps were huge; he just put down a white boi who didn't know his place with those arms. James felt his neck, thinking that if he had protested, he could have very much not walked out of that room alive. It felt so right to James now, though. Being an object for a black man's righteous fury, it was too perfect.
"I'm going to have to give you a nice reward after all of this; after all, you de-" The woman finally noticed James as he was walking to get past them. All of her attention was focused on her man, and just having a white boi in her sights ruined her night.
"You got one more in you, John? I want to see this white boi croak." she asked so casually. A shiver ran up James' spine as John eyed him.
The beating came quick and hard; his weak little frame crumpled as this black man put him in his place on the ground. The pain was almost too much, but it felt right for James to become schlick fuel for this woman. A foot pressed against James' neck as John looked down on him, though he strangely released it.
"Oh. This is Nicole's new bitch; cracker throated Darius like a real thot; he was just talkin' about this little fag."
The woman pouted. "This little bitch? There's no way he could do some queen shit like that." She spat at James' face as he was laid out on the ground.
"This piece of ass is for fuckin' disposal, unless he starts acting all uppity." John remarked, looking down. He could see that even though he had beaten this boi, James' eyes were full of adoration despite being bruised up. "Lets go bitch; this pussy's got places to be, and you gotta be gagging on my cock; lets go bitch." He tugged her by the gown, leaving James in a crumpled state.
I thought if he hadn't been recognized, he would have been wiped out. The thought made him all tingly. He needed to complete the therapy quickly.
The shower was a reprieve from the assaults and sex; as much as he needed to get dicked, it was nice to let that water cleanse him. He lathered up, the soap making his bruised but effortlessly smooth skin nice and clean, running his hands down his hips and getting soaped up all over. He needed to be cleansed, and he spent the better part of ten minutes making sure he was pure for his branding. Being white was a curse, but he could do his part for the good of all of black society.
He would return to Nicole, ready for the final step. Every time he walked through this clinic, he could see the perfection of their society. Women getting black bred and white bois giving up everything—their holes, their lives, their privileges.
"Took you long enough; sit down so we can finish this," Nicole said as she was getting her equipment ready. This was a new room; it looked like it was previously some kind of prison, but through those bars, the woman who changed her life stood next to a big leather chair. Not wanting to wait a second more, James parked his soft ass down in that seat. "Now where are we going to put this?" Nicole thought aloud. In her hand, she held some kind of stamp coated with a dark substance. She contemplated for a while before making her demand. "We're going to give you a nice little tramp stamp; back your ass up," she ordered. With no delay, James flipped himself over and felt a strange cold gel being spread above the crack in his ass.
She pressed the stamp down, and it began to burn. It began to hurt. This wasn't ink; it wasn't a tattoo, but she wasn't using a cattle iron. James gripped the seat as he felt tears begin to well up, but she kept her hand firm. "This is permanent; you'll give your vows, or I'll drag this off, and you'll never be able to sit again." She snarled, still holding it in place.
"My vows?" James croaked out.
"Profess your submission to the BNWO, that you'll act as an agent of their change, that you're a worthless white faggot, just fucking say the words you already know to be true, you stupid piece of trash." She pressed harder as she chided him. He would say the words.
"I pledge my life to the BNWO." It hurt, but something was welling inside. "I will submit myself; I will submit others; whites are worthless and black is better!" The confidence rose above the pain. "My body, my life, and all those of the inferior white race, I will make them yours; I'll make them see the truth; I'm a worthless piece of fuckmeat, and all white fuckmeat belongs to the BNWO!" James shouted out.
Nicole let go. The black had infused into his skin, marking him permanently. Nobody could remove it; if they wanted to, they'd have to remove his skin. James's therapist felt pride in knowing another has fallen; so many recently just give up so easily that they can't serve as anything more than stress removal. Those whitebois needed to be removed, but James was different; the BNWO could use him in so many ways. James was panting from the ordeal, marked forever.
"Whites belong to the BNWO, all whites; do you know what I mean? You need to get to work."
The newly branded race traitor had no shame now. "I'll make my ****** pay what they owe.".
