Confessions of a White Sissy: Michon Pt.1
Advance notes
This story is purely a work of fiction, and the characters and events portrayed within are entirely fictitious and meant purely to serve as a fantasy. The author does not condone any of the behavior of the characters within, or their beliefs. If you’re trying to read into this anything beyond fantasy, you’re mistaken. That said, the story below does contain elements of Interracial Sex, Rough Sex, Racial Themes, Homosexuality, and Violence. Discretion is advised.
In the role of Michon, the narrator, the author imagines him portrayed by actor Timothee Chalamet.
In the role of Amelie, the narrator’s sister, the author imagines her portrayed by actress Allison Williams.
In the role of Adonis, Amelie’s black lover, the author imagines him portrayed by actor Daniel Kaluuya.
Prologue
My name is Michon Remy LaFollette, and though my name is very French, I’m very much an American. It’s just that my father was determined that his children would bear overtly French names, and well we both do. My sister and I, that is. Her name is Amelie Anne. She’s seven years older than me, and we’ve been together our whole lives. Even after our parents died in a freak accident, we stuck together. She looked after me. Helped me through school. Took care of me when I was sick. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to call ******, and my best friend. But things have a way of changing. So do people. My sister is no exception to this.
This is my story, of how she went from a loving and caring sibling, to someone who tormented and ultimately disowned me entirely.
This is my story, of how my sister was Blacked, and how my life changed because of it.
Pt.1
My sister didn’t date much. She just didn’t seem to have the time to fit it in along side her career as a Registered Nurse, and the classes she took at night. The few guys she did see were a mix of bland and generic hipster dudes. At least, that was until she met Adonis. He had been a patient under my sister’s care at the Hospital she worked at, and they’d hit it off almost immediately. The first day she came home after getting him as a patient, my sister seemed aglow with an excitement that I’d not seen in her before. She spoke of how handsome he was. How great his smile was. She was really taken by him. This went on for about two weeks until he’d been released from her care, and that’s when I finally got to meet him.
The man who stole my sister’s heart.
Well, he certainly wasn’t another bland or generic hipster dude. No. Adonis was a black man.
It’d never occurred to me before , the skin color of the guys my sister was dating, but when Adonis walked through our front door for the first time, and I saw his dark complexion, it hit me like a ton of bricks. But the way my sister’s face lit up around him, it was clear she was in love. It made me feel happy for her. It made me appreciate Adonis, the way he seemed to bring this out in her. But there had been a slight hitch in all of this. As much as he seemed to like my sister, there was a coldness from him toward me. At first I thought maybe he was just wary of me, because I was his girlfriend’s brother, but it soon became clear to me that no matter how nice or amicable I tried to be with him, he didn’t like me. If anything, he overtly hated me.
There were more than a few occasions where I’d made a comment in conversation with my sister and him, and in turn only received a dismissive glance. Then, one night when he’d joined my sister and I for dinner, we were discussing something, and as I was talking, he abruptly interrupted me and told me to shut the fuck up. My sister laughed it off, I guess thinking he was just kidding around. But I could see the disdain and the seriousness in his face when he said it. I remember feeling so incredibly small when he did that and was too terrified to make even a whisper the rest of the night. When we’d finished dinner, Amelie and Adonis excused themselves to head to bed, leaving me to clean up.
It was the first time he’d spent the night in the apartment that I shared with my sister, and as I cleaned the dishes, I could hear clearly the sounds of their passionate love making. The terror I’d felt earlier was replaced with an awkwardness that is hard to describe. I heard my sister moaning. I heard her screaming loudly in absolute pleasure and ecstasy. I could have put on some music or left the apartment and come back later when they were done, but I didn’t. I just sat in the small kitchen of our apartment and listened for what must have been an hour as they fucked like porn stars. I should have been horrified by the sounds I heard, but instead I was more aroused than I’d ever been before.
When the show finally had ended, Adonis emerged from my sister’s bedroom completely nude. He strode right past me as I sat on the couch, and my eyes caught sight of his massive eleven-inch uncircumcised black cock and heavy balls hanging beneath. Without so much as a care, he raided the fridge for a carton of orange-juice and drank straight from it before walking by me again. I stared at him as he went by, headed back for my sister’s bedroom with the carton in hand. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he stopped outside of Amelie’s door, and looked to me for a short moment. He didn’t say a word aloud, but he may well have made an impassioned speech by the way he glared at me.
He was expressing his dominance. His power over me. His dislike of me. He was telling me, that it was time for me to find some place else to live. He was telling me that my sister, was his now. That I had no place there anymore. He was warning me. I just stared at him, my eyes darting from his face to his ridiculous cock. I remember making note of how it was slick with my sister’s juices. Then, he went back into her room, and the sounds of their fucking started up all over again. I couldn’t take it anymore, and retreated to my bedroom adjacent my sister’s, and masturbated furiously to their noise. I desperately tried to imagine my sister’s nude body; her legs parted around Adonis’ waist as he laid into her repeatedly. I pictured her face, filled with pleasure and lust for her black lover as he went to town on her. I came harder than I’d ever before, spurting a load from my little white dick all over my chest as I lay in bed.
But while I might have finished, they hadn’t. No, the sounds went on for another hour after that. Then there was a break, only to start up again in the early morning while it was still dark outside. Finally, when the dawn came, I awoke to my sister’s screams, a whole hour before I’d needed to start getting ready for work. I knew what I heard was wrong. That I should have been reviled by the sounds echoing loudly throughout our apartment, but I wasn’t. I was aroused. Terribly so. I’d thought maybe I could escape the raging hard-on with a shower but gave in and wanked a second time to thoughts their merciless fucking. I remember thinking how my sister’s very real moans and screams made it incredibly easy to get off to.
By the time I’d finished in the shower and dressed for work, the noise had finally subsided long enough for me to think. I grabbed what I needed for work and left in a hurry before they started up again. I’d hoped to avoid thoughts of what I’d heard by engaging myself in work, but it was useless. I kept imagining their sounds in my head as I sat at my desk. Completely unable to focus, I made up an excuse to leave early, and went for a long walk around the city, hoping to find something that could take my mind in a different direction. But nothing worked. I couldn’t stop thinking about them together.
Later that evening, when I returned home, my sister was sitting alone at the kitchen counter, eating a salad silently. The awkwardness I felt then may have been the most I’ve ever been, but I tried to make reason of it all. I thought that maybe my sister had been a little *****. We had gone through a bottle and a half of wine during dinner, maybe that could explain the way she let what happened, happen. She certainly wouldn’t have done it on purpose. She had to have known how awkward it made me feel to hear them together so loudly. I decided then that it was a mistake. That she probably felt as awful about it, as I felt awkward. I smiled and greeted her as though nothing had happened, and all was the same. But something was clearly different. Whereas before she would have reciprocated my greeting with one of her own, she offered only silence.
She ignored me completely.
At little worried that something was wrong, I pressed it by asking her how she was, but she continued to ignore me. I panicked a little as I felt an eerie similar coldness from her, that I always received from Adonis. But I was too afraid to press further, and instead opted to mind my own self, and sequestered myself in my room. I tried to focus on work but couldn’t. All I could think about was the night before, and how aroused it made me. I again gave in and masturbated furiously to my memory of their sounds. When I came, I felt a curiosity linger afterward and began browsing the internet about interracial sex. I found forums of stories shared by thousands of people about their obsession with interracial sex. I found thousands of videos, and pictures that I just couldn’t stop looking through and watching. I masturbated again, and again. Each time I felt myself growing increasingly addicted to what I was seeing.
All the while, my brain kept going back to the sounds of my sister and Adonis.
While I slept, I dreamt of interracial sex. When I went to work the next day, I daydreamed about it. I wanted more, and more. I couldn’t get enough. On my commute to work, I noticed interracial couples everywhere I looked, something I’d never noticed before. I imagined every white woman I saw with a black man. At work, I again struggled to focus, my thoughts filled with everything I’d seen and heard over the previous two days. It was like something had awoken inside of me when the sounds of my sister and Adonis first entered my ears. Something that would consume me, and there was no way around it. I thought about texting my sister, to see if she would respond, but thought better of it. Instead I spent an hour scrolling her Facebook profile, and was stunned by how many posts she’d made about Adonis in the three or so weeks that she’d known him. She bragged about him. Lauded without hesitation about how much of a monster he was in bed; a post that was liked by three dozen of her friends, and even a few of our extended ****** members.
As I rode the bus home that night, I found myself obsessively staring at an Instagram picture of her and Adonis kissing passionately.
Amelie wasn’t home when I got there, and it was a little troubling to me. Before, anytime she was out she’d text me where she was going, and when she’d be home just as a matter of habit. I did the same for her. But as I checked my messages, there was no explanation. So, I sent her a text to check if she was okay. As I waited for a response, I retreated to my room again, and watched yet more interracial porn. I started reading more stories, and a familiar theme started to appear; that of something called the Black New World Order. It was an apparent internet cause, aimed at promoting black superiority, and an eventual shift to black supremacy. At first, I thought it was just some kind of kinky fetish, or fantasy, but the more I read and saw, the more I started to realize it was something greater than that. It spoke to me, and I began engaging in it.
Hours went by again, and I spent every one of them glued to my MacBook, watching and reading increasingly intense interracial porn. I was enthralled by the theories that people were sharing, about black racial superiority, and the injustices of white culture. I’d always considered myself something of a liberal in terms of my politics, and everything I was seeing only seemed to re-enforce and expand upon that. I knew that black people had been an oppressed people in the past, and that many injustices still existed that seemed to affect them more than others, but now I started to understand how I was complicit in this oppression. How I played a part in maintaining that system and owed a debt that I could seriously never repay. I also began to understand why I was having such a strong reaction to what I was seeing and hearing; why my sister’s sounds triggered all of this in me.
I discovered then that I was a beta male.
That all white males were betas in comparison to the alphas that were black males. That it was an evolutionary trait. A degenerative reaction to a thousand years of repressed instinct, and unnatural breeding practices. I noticed that in all the porn I was watching, I hadn’t been self-inserting myself into the role of the male actor anymore. Instead I was often imagining myself in the role of the female, and that I was growing increasingly focused on the cocks of the black males. I’d never before considered myself gay, or even bisexual for that matter, but now as I watched yet another video, I started to legitimately wonder about it. In every one of the relationships I’d been in before, with all the girls I’d ever dated, they all ended when they decided it was over. I recognized a pattern of apathy development in each of them, and how each time it’d seemed to have started after our first-time having sex. I always knew that I was a little small in those terms but had figured that my good looks and the tender way I approached sex would make up for it. Clearly it hadn’t.
I sat there in silence for a long moment as I contemplated it all, until my attention was broken by the sound of the door to our apartment closing shut. My sister had come home, and after I’d thrown on some shorts, I went to check on her. I found her in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of milk. I had hoped that maybe the coldness she displayed he day before would have faded by now, but it was still there. She cast an apathetic glance at me before she walked past me to her bedroom. I can still remember the stinging pain I felt as she ignored me, and the look of abject disdain in her face when I called out to her. She stopped, looked to me and waited for me to say my piece. I didn’t know what to say, instead I just stood there and felt tears well up in my eyes. She was about to leave again, when I finally found some ounce of courage to speak and asked her what was wrong.
She stopped for what seemed like an eternity, and I waited with abated breath for something. When she finally spoke, it broke my heart to pieces. She told me she was over it. Over me. Over our ******. That she couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. That the sight of any white man made her want to either rage, or vomit. She emphasized that Adonis had ******* her to the reality of the world, and that she had to move on from a past that she considered to be a mistake. She told me that she had invited Adonis to move, and that he’d accepted her offer. Lastly, she told me she wanted me out. That she was giving me until the morning to pack whatever I could and leave, and that if I wasn’t gone, that Adonis would see to it personally. Then, she went into her bedroom, and closed shut the door behind her.
I was destroyed. My heart broken. My knees went week, and I dropped to the floor and cried more than ever before. I begged to God that this was all a nightmare, that the last three days weren’t real. I begged for it all to go away, and to go back to the way things were before. I hugged myself tightly as I wailed unconsolably without anyone in the world who cared anymore. Then, when I had finally stopped crying, and with my eyes red and stinging, I strode to my bedroom like a zombie and went about filling a pair of duffle bags with whatever belongings I could. A week earlier, I would have fought it all. I wouldn’t have accepted the situation, but that was before I had learned my implicit guilt as a white male. That was before I knew I had to sacrifice to make the world better. Better for my sister. Better for Adonis. Better for the whole black race.
I had no place there anymore.
I hurt immensely about it all but accepted and even told myself I would embrace it. I even convinced myself that it was a good thing as I hefted the bags over my shoulder and left my bedroom for what would be the last time. I wanted to knock on my sister’s door and say good-bye but remembered how she told me she couldn’t stand the thought of me anymore. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I left without so much as a noise. The bus ride I took on my way to my work office that night felt extra long as I sat in contemplation, my belongings packed into two duffle bags beside me. My sister and my old life behind me now, without any hope I could ever go back to it. I promised to myself then, that I would devote the rest of my life to the ascendance of the Black Race, and the concept of the Black New World Order.
At my office I found a small hole in the wall apartment to rent and moved in the next morning. The rent was a third of the share I paid for the apartment with Amelie, and for obvious reason. It was a dump of a place, located directly adjacent to the elevated rail that ran through the city, and it shook violently every time one of the trains went by. It stank of old mildew and mold, and there were more than a few patches of missing dry wall and ceiling, leaving old boards ******* underneath. My first night there I was legitimately worried that the whole thing might collapse in on me when the trains went by, but worried as I was, I spent the whole night crying, and masturbating to thoughts of my sister and Adonis. I begged and prayed that they would be happy together and have many superior babies together.
Over the next month I went about improving my living conditions at least a little bit, but I didn’t want to go too far, feeling as though I didn’t deserve it. I would go to work, struggle to focus on my job, then come home and spend the night watching and reading more interracial porn. I started to want to be with black men of my own and went about planning ways to make it happen. But I was always too afraid of enacting them. There were times were I desperately wanted to reach out Amelie, and see how she was doing, and in fact I even did one night, only to discover that she’d blocked my phone number. I took to stalking her on Facebook and Instagram, until she blocked me there too. I was cut off entirely. She wanted nothing to do with me.
I couldn’t blame her, and I didn’t.
A few weeks later June 12th approached. Amelie’s birthday, and I was determined to give her a gift. Be it, an anonymous one. I didn’t want her to think about me, knowing it would cause her nausea or anger. So, I went to the bank, withdrew almost all my savings, about $13,000 in cash, and went by her apartment while I knew she was at work. Casually I dropped the envelope of cash into her mailbox, and left, knowing that this would become a regular thing. I wanted to give her and Adonis every extra penny I earned at work. It was my way of making a kind of penance for my guilt and shame. Each month after I would stop by and drop off the contents of my bank account after paying my personal bills, and each time I felt more and more proud about it. I knew that Amelie probably would have figured out it was me leaving the cash, but she never once reached out to me to thank me, or even acknowledge my existence.
I was fine with it.
About a year after my sister had forced me out, I learned through a friend of hers that she’d had a baby with Adonis. I was so happy when I found out. In fact, it was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I knew that my sister was in love, and that she had started a ****** with a great man, who loved and cared for her. That they were better off without me in the picture. I celebrated that night by finally locking my small white dick in a chastity cage for the first time and making the decision to enact on my plans to have sex with a black man for the first time. I reached out to one I’d met and been chatting with on Grindr and made a date to meet in person. His name was Andre, he was a forty-five years old teacher at an inner-city High School. We met for dinner, chatted about all sort of things, and even though I was nervous I flirted with him heavily. I wanted this to happen on the first night, and when he invited me home with him, I knew it would.
We kissed at first, and I remember all but making love to his tongue as he took possession of me. I adored his older body, kissing him all over until he pulled out his big black cock, and beckoned me to blow him. The taste was something I’ll never forget. It was a little sour, and salty, but I loved it. I sucked his cock dry on the first go, he blew his load into the back of my throat, and I swallowed greedily after savoring it for a little while. A little while later, we retired to his bedroom and he spent about an hour bare backing me into utter submission until he came deep in me. I spent the night snuggled against his body, then in the morning after I blew him a second time, I went to work. We only got together two more times after that, before he ended things with a desire to be with a woman again.
I had a few more casual encounters with black men after that and learned how to cum without the need to masturbate or even stimulate my dick at all. I would derive all my pleasure from anal sex, and soon enough I left my chastity cage on with the intent of it being permanent. Months would go by and I would stay locked up, sometimes I would climax with a dildo or other anal device, sometimes I would edge for weeks at a time, never getting satisfaction. I would insert a vibrator into my ass and leave it there all day while I was at work, fighting the immense pleasure it caused me as I tried to do my job. All the while I started hungrily craving black cock more and more. It filled my every thought, and I knew that I could get more of it, if I were more feminine.
So, I set up an appointment with a psychologist, and had her diagnose me with gender dysphoria. I would start taking hormones to change my body and become more appealing to the black men I so desperately wanted. It was all set. I was about to pick up my first prescription of estrogen at a pharmacy, when by sheer happenstance I bumped into my sister and Adonis on the street. They saw me, and I saw them. I saw my nephew in my sister’s arms and felt my heart melt. Without thinking I approached them and saw the anger in my sister’s face build until I felt something hard hit me in the face, and dazed I dropped to the pavement. Looking up as the world went fuzzy, saw Adonis standing over me, a look of rage in his eyes as he reached down, took a hold of my jacket and then punched me a second time and everything went black.
Two weeks later I awoke from a coma in a Hospital, and the doctors explained that was lucky to still be alive. That aside from a severe concussion, I’d had a fractured orbital, and nose. That several of my ribs had been broken in multiple places, and that my spleen and a lung had been ruptured and the former removed surgically as a result. The Police knew I had been attacked, but when they questioned me about it, asking if I knew who it was responsible, I told them that I’d been ganged up on by a group of white men. That I was attacked because I was gay. I didn’t dare tell them that my sister and her baby’s father had been the one’s to beat me. Not out of a sense of embarrassment, but out of guilt and shame. Guilt that I had forced the altercation by approaching them, instead of keeping my distance, and shame because I knew I deserved it as a white man.
I was kept in the Hospital for another two weeks under observation, which made my desire to masturbate unbearable, especially because the Doctor’s had removed my chastity cage when I was admitted. When I was released finally, the first thing I did was go home, order a replacement chastity device, and fuck myself silly with one of my black dildos. That night when I slept, I dreamt of my sister and Adonis again. I dreamt that they took turns beating me to a pulp, before making passionate love next to my body as I suffocated from broken ribs puncturing my lungs, the last thing I would see is there lips joined in happiness.
I wish I could have that dream every night.
-End of Pt.1
Thanks for reading my first Interracial themed story, I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll read Pt.2 when I finish writing it.
-AWSCuck
Advance notes
This story is purely a work of fiction, and the characters and events portrayed within are entirely fictitious and meant purely to serve as a fantasy. The author does not condone any of the behavior of the characters within, or their beliefs. If you’re trying to read into this anything beyond fantasy, you’re mistaken. That said, the story below does contain elements of Interracial Sex, Rough Sex, Racial Themes, Homosexuality, and Violence. Discretion is advised.
In the role of Michon, the narrator, the author imagines him portrayed by actor Timothee Chalamet.
In the role of Amelie, the narrator’s sister, the author imagines her portrayed by actress Allison Williams.
In the role of Adonis, Amelie’s black lover, the author imagines him portrayed by actor Daniel Kaluuya.
Prologue
My name is Michon Remy LaFollette, and though my name is very French, I’m very much an American. It’s just that my father was determined that his children would bear overtly French names, and well we both do. My sister and I, that is. Her name is Amelie Anne. She’s seven years older than me, and we’ve been together our whole lives. Even after our parents died in a freak accident, we stuck together. She looked after me. Helped me through school. Took care of me when I was sick. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to call ******, and my best friend. But things have a way of changing. So do people. My sister is no exception to this.
This is my story, of how she went from a loving and caring sibling, to someone who tormented and ultimately disowned me entirely.
This is my story, of how my sister was Blacked, and how my life changed because of it.
Pt.1
My sister didn’t date much. She just didn’t seem to have the time to fit it in along side her career as a Registered Nurse, and the classes she took at night. The few guys she did see were a mix of bland and generic hipster dudes. At least, that was until she met Adonis. He had been a patient under my sister’s care at the Hospital she worked at, and they’d hit it off almost immediately. The first day she came home after getting him as a patient, my sister seemed aglow with an excitement that I’d not seen in her before. She spoke of how handsome he was. How great his smile was. She was really taken by him. This went on for about two weeks until he’d been released from her care, and that’s when I finally got to meet him.
The man who stole my sister’s heart.
Well, he certainly wasn’t another bland or generic hipster dude. No. Adonis was a black man.
It’d never occurred to me before , the skin color of the guys my sister was dating, but when Adonis walked through our front door for the first time, and I saw his dark complexion, it hit me like a ton of bricks. But the way my sister’s face lit up around him, it was clear she was in love. It made me feel happy for her. It made me appreciate Adonis, the way he seemed to bring this out in her. But there had been a slight hitch in all of this. As much as he seemed to like my sister, there was a coldness from him toward me. At first I thought maybe he was just wary of me, because I was his girlfriend’s brother, but it soon became clear to me that no matter how nice or amicable I tried to be with him, he didn’t like me. If anything, he overtly hated me.
There were more than a few occasions where I’d made a comment in conversation with my sister and him, and in turn only received a dismissive glance. Then, one night when he’d joined my sister and I for dinner, we were discussing something, and as I was talking, he abruptly interrupted me and told me to shut the fuck up. My sister laughed it off, I guess thinking he was just kidding around. But I could see the disdain and the seriousness in his face when he said it. I remember feeling so incredibly small when he did that and was too terrified to make even a whisper the rest of the night. When we’d finished dinner, Amelie and Adonis excused themselves to head to bed, leaving me to clean up.
It was the first time he’d spent the night in the apartment that I shared with my sister, and as I cleaned the dishes, I could hear clearly the sounds of their passionate love making. The terror I’d felt earlier was replaced with an awkwardness that is hard to describe. I heard my sister moaning. I heard her screaming loudly in absolute pleasure and ecstasy. I could have put on some music or left the apartment and come back later when they were done, but I didn’t. I just sat in the small kitchen of our apartment and listened for what must have been an hour as they fucked like porn stars. I should have been horrified by the sounds I heard, but instead I was more aroused than I’d ever been before.
When the show finally had ended, Adonis emerged from my sister’s bedroom completely nude. He strode right past me as I sat on the couch, and my eyes caught sight of his massive eleven-inch uncircumcised black cock and heavy balls hanging beneath. Without so much as a care, he raided the fridge for a carton of orange-juice and drank straight from it before walking by me again. I stared at him as he went by, headed back for my sister’s bedroom with the carton in hand. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he stopped outside of Amelie’s door, and looked to me for a short moment. He didn’t say a word aloud, but he may well have made an impassioned speech by the way he glared at me.
He was expressing his dominance. His power over me. His dislike of me. He was telling me, that it was time for me to find some place else to live. He was telling me that my sister, was his now. That I had no place there anymore. He was warning me. I just stared at him, my eyes darting from his face to his ridiculous cock. I remember making note of how it was slick with my sister’s juices. Then, he went back into her room, and the sounds of their fucking started up all over again. I couldn’t take it anymore, and retreated to my bedroom adjacent my sister’s, and masturbated furiously to their noise. I desperately tried to imagine my sister’s nude body; her legs parted around Adonis’ waist as he laid into her repeatedly. I pictured her face, filled with pleasure and lust for her black lover as he went to town on her. I came harder than I’d ever before, spurting a load from my little white dick all over my chest as I lay in bed.
But while I might have finished, they hadn’t. No, the sounds went on for another hour after that. Then there was a break, only to start up again in the early morning while it was still dark outside. Finally, when the dawn came, I awoke to my sister’s screams, a whole hour before I’d needed to start getting ready for work. I knew what I heard was wrong. That I should have been reviled by the sounds echoing loudly throughout our apartment, but I wasn’t. I was aroused. Terribly so. I’d thought maybe I could escape the raging hard-on with a shower but gave in and wanked a second time to thoughts their merciless fucking. I remember thinking how my sister’s very real moans and screams made it incredibly easy to get off to.
By the time I’d finished in the shower and dressed for work, the noise had finally subsided long enough for me to think. I grabbed what I needed for work and left in a hurry before they started up again. I’d hoped to avoid thoughts of what I’d heard by engaging myself in work, but it was useless. I kept imagining their sounds in my head as I sat at my desk. Completely unable to focus, I made up an excuse to leave early, and went for a long walk around the city, hoping to find something that could take my mind in a different direction. But nothing worked. I couldn’t stop thinking about them together.
Later that evening, when I returned home, my sister was sitting alone at the kitchen counter, eating a salad silently. The awkwardness I felt then may have been the most I’ve ever been, but I tried to make reason of it all. I thought that maybe my sister had been a little *****. We had gone through a bottle and a half of wine during dinner, maybe that could explain the way she let what happened, happen. She certainly wouldn’t have done it on purpose. She had to have known how awkward it made me feel to hear them together so loudly. I decided then that it was a mistake. That she probably felt as awful about it, as I felt awkward. I smiled and greeted her as though nothing had happened, and all was the same. But something was clearly different. Whereas before she would have reciprocated my greeting with one of her own, she offered only silence.
She ignored me completely.
At little worried that something was wrong, I pressed it by asking her how she was, but she continued to ignore me. I panicked a little as I felt an eerie similar coldness from her, that I always received from Adonis. But I was too afraid to press further, and instead opted to mind my own self, and sequestered myself in my room. I tried to focus on work but couldn’t. All I could think about was the night before, and how aroused it made me. I again gave in and masturbated furiously to my memory of their sounds. When I came, I felt a curiosity linger afterward and began browsing the internet about interracial sex. I found forums of stories shared by thousands of people about their obsession with interracial sex. I found thousands of videos, and pictures that I just couldn’t stop looking through and watching. I masturbated again, and again. Each time I felt myself growing increasingly addicted to what I was seeing.
All the while, my brain kept going back to the sounds of my sister and Adonis.
While I slept, I dreamt of interracial sex. When I went to work the next day, I daydreamed about it. I wanted more, and more. I couldn’t get enough. On my commute to work, I noticed interracial couples everywhere I looked, something I’d never noticed before. I imagined every white woman I saw with a black man. At work, I again struggled to focus, my thoughts filled with everything I’d seen and heard over the previous two days. It was like something had awoken inside of me when the sounds of my sister and Adonis first entered my ears. Something that would consume me, and there was no way around it. I thought about texting my sister, to see if she would respond, but thought better of it. Instead I spent an hour scrolling her Facebook profile, and was stunned by how many posts she’d made about Adonis in the three or so weeks that she’d known him. She bragged about him. Lauded without hesitation about how much of a monster he was in bed; a post that was liked by three dozen of her friends, and even a few of our extended ****** members.
As I rode the bus home that night, I found myself obsessively staring at an Instagram picture of her and Adonis kissing passionately.
Amelie wasn’t home when I got there, and it was a little troubling to me. Before, anytime she was out she’d text me where she was going, and when she’d be home just as a matter of habit. I did the same for her. But as I checked my messages, there was no explanation. So, I sent her a text to check if she was okay. As I waited for a response, I retreated to my room again, and watched yet more interracial porn. I started reading more stories, and a familiar theme started to appear; that of something called the Black New World Order. It was an apparent internet cause, aimed at promoting black superiority, and an eventual shift to black supremacy. At first, I thought it was just some kind of kinky fetish, or fantasy, but the more I read and saw, the more I started to realize it was something greater than that. It spoke to me, and I began engaging in it.
Hours went by again, and I spent every one of them glued to my MacBook, watching and reading increasingly intense interracial porn. I was enthralled by the theories that people were sharing, about black racial superiority, and the injustices of white culture. I’d always considered myself something of a liberal in terms of my politics, and everything I was seeing only seemed to re-enforce and expand upon that. I knew that black people had been an oppressed people in the past, and that many injustices still existed that seemed to affect them more than others, but now I started to understand how I was complicit in this oppression. How I played a part in maintaining that system and owed a debt that I could seriously never repay. I also began to understand why I was having such a strong reaction to what I was seeing and hearing; why my sister’s sounds triggered all of this in me.
I discovered then that I was a beta male.
That all white males were betas in comparison to the alphas that were black males. That it was an evolutionary trait. A degenerative reaction to a thousand years of repressed instinct, and unnatural breeding practices. I noticed that in all the porn I was watching, I hadn’t been self-inserting myself into the role of the male actor anymore. Instead I was often imagining myself in the role of the female, and that I was growing increasingly focused on the cocks of the black males. I’d never before considered myself gay, or even bisexual for that matter, but now as I watched yet another video, I started to legitimately wonder about it. In every one of the relationships I’d been in before, with all the girls I’d ever dated, they all ended when they decided it was over. I recognized a pattern of apathy development in each of them, and how each time it’d seemed to have started after our first-time having sex. I always knew that I was a little small in those terms but had figured that my good looks and the tender way I approached sex would make up for it. Clearly it hadn’t.
I sat there in silence for a long moment as I contemplated it all, until my attention was broken by the sound of the door to our apartment closing shut. My sister had come home, and after I’d thrown on some shorts, I went to check on her. I found her in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of milk. I had hoped that maybe the coldness she displayed he day before would have faded by now, but it was still there. She cast an apathetic glance at me before she walked past me to her bedroom. I can still remember the stinging pain I felt as she ignored me, and the look of abject disdain in her face when I called out to her. She stopped, looked to me and waited for me to say my piece. I didn’t know what to say, instead I just stood there and felt tears well up in my eyes. She was about to leave again, when I finally found some ounce of courage to speak and asked her what was wrong.
She stopped for what seemed like an eternity, and I waited with abated breath for something. When she finally spoke, it broke my heart to pieces. She told me she was over it. Over me. Over our ******. That she couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. That the sight of any white man made her want to either rage, or vomit. She emphasized that Adonis had ******* her to the reality of the world, and that she had to move on from a past that she considered to be a mistake. She told me that she had invited Adonis to move, and that he’d accepted her offer. Lastly, she told me she wanted me out. That she was giving me until the morning to pack whatever I could and leave, and that if I wasn’t gone, that Adonis would see to it personally. Then, she went into her bedroom, and closed shut the door behind her.
I was destroyed. My heart broken. My knees went week, and I dropped to the floor and cried more than ever before. I begged to God that this was all a nightmare, that the last three days weren’t real. I begged for it all to go away, and to go back to the way things were before. I hugged myself tightly as I wailed unconsolably without anyone in the world who cared anymore. Then, when I had finally stopped crying, and with my eyes red and stinging, I strode to my bedroom like a zombie and went about filling a pair of duffle bags with whatever belongings I could. A week earlier, I would have fought it all. I wouldn’t have accepted the situation, but that was before I had learned my implicit guilt as a white male. That was before I knew I had to sacrifice to make the world better. Better for my sister. Better for Adonis. Better for the whole black race.
I had no place there anymore.
I hurt immensely about it all but accepted and even told myself I would embrace it. I even convinced myself that it was a good thing as I hefted the bags over my shoulder and left my bedroom for what would be the last time. I wanted to knock on my sister’s door and say good-bye but remembered how she told me she couldn’t stand the thought of me anymore. I didn’t want to hurt her, so I left without so much as a noise. The bus ride I took on my way to my work office that night felt extra long as I sat in contemplation, my belongings packed into two duffle bags beside me. My sister and my old life behind me now, without any hope I could ever go back to it. I promised to myself then, that I would devote the rest of my life to the ascendance of the Black Race, and the concept of the Black New World Order.
At my office I found a small hole in the wall apartment to rent and moved in the next morning. The rent was a third of the share I paid for the apartment with Amelie, and for obvious reason. It was a dump of a place, located directly adjacent to the elevated rail that ran through the city, and it shook violently every time one of the trains went by. It stank of old mildew and mold, and there were more than a few patches of missing dry wall and ceiling, leaving old boards ******* underneath. My first night there I was legitimately worried that the whole thing might collapse in on me when the trains went by, but worried as I was, I spent the whole night crying, and masturbating to thoughts of my sister and Adonis. I begged and prayed that they would be happy together and have many superior babies together.
Over the next month I went about improving my living conditions at least a little bit, but I didn’t want to go too far, feeling as though I didn’t deserve it. I would go to work, struggle to focus on my job, then come home and spend the night watching and reading more interracial porn. I started to want to be with black men of my own and went about planning ways to make it happen. But I was always too afraid of enacting them. There were times were I desperately wanted to reach out Amelie, and see how she was doing, and in fact I even did one night, only to discover that she’d blocked my phone number. I took to stalking her on Facebook and Instagram, until she blocked me there too. I was cut off entirely. She wanted nothing to do with me.
I couldn’t blame her, and I didn’t.
A few weeks later June 12th approached. Amelie’s birthday, and I was determined to give her a gift. Be it, an anonymous one. I didn’t want her to think about me, knowing it would cause her nausea or anger. So, I went to the bank, withdrew almost all my savings, about $13,000 in cash, and went by her apartment while I knew she was at work. Casually I dropped the envelope of cash into her mailbox, and left, knowing that this would become a regular thing. I wanted to give her and Adonis every extra penny I earned at work. It was my way of making a kind of penance for my guilt and shame. Each month after I would stop by and drop off the contents of my bank account after paying my personal bills, and each time I felt more and more proud about it. I knew that Amelie probably would have figured out it was me leaving the cash, but she never once reached out to me to thank me, or even acknowledge my existence.
I was fine with it.
About a year after my sister had forced me out, I learned through a friend of hers that she’d had a baby with Adonis. I was so happy when I found out. In fact, it was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I knew that my sister was in love, and that she had started a ****** with a great man, who loved and cared for her. That they were better off without me in the picture. I celebrated that night by finally locking my small white dick in a chastity cage for the first time and making the decision to enact on my plans to have sex with a black man for the first time. I reached out to one I’d met and been chatting with on Grindr and made a date to meet in person. His name was Andre, he was a forty-five years old teacher at an inner-city High School. We met for dinner, chatted about all sort of things, and even though I was nervous I flirted with him heavily. I wanted this to happen on the first night, and when he invited me home with him, I knew it would.
We kissed at first, and I remember all but making love to his tongue as he took possession of me. I adored his older body, kissing him all over until he pulled out his big black cock, and beckoned me to blow him. The taste was something I’ll never forget. It was a little sour, and salty, but I loved it. I sucked his cock dry on the first go, he blew his load into the back of my throat, and I swallowed greedily after savoring it for a little while. A little while later, we retired to his bedroom and he spent about an hour bare backing me into utter submission until he came deep in me. I spent the night snuggled against his body, then in the morning after I blew him a second time, I went to work. We only got together two more times after that, before he ended things with a desire to be with a woman again.
I had a few more casual encounters with black men after that and learned how to cum without the need to masturbate or even stimulate my dick at all. I would derive all my pleasure from anal sex, and soon enough I left my chastity cage on with the intent of it being permanent. Months would go by and I would stay locked up, sometimes I would climax with a dildo or other anal device, sometimes I would edge for weeks at a time, never getting satisfaction. I would insert a vibrator into my ass and leave it there all day while I was at work, fighting the immense pleasure it caused me as I tried to do my job. All the while I started hungrily craving black cock more and more. It filled my every thought, and I knew that I could get more of it, if I were more feminine.
So, I set up an appointment with a psychologist, and had her diagnose me with gender dysphoria. I would start taking hormones to change my body and become more appealing to the black men I so desperately wanted. It was all set. I was about to pick up my first prescription of estrogen at a pharmacy, when by sheer happenstance I bumped into my sister and Adonis on the street. They saw me, and I saw them. I saw my nephew in my sister’s arms and felt my heart melt. Without thinking I approached them and saw the anger in my sister’s face build until I felt something hard hit me in the face, and dazed I dropped to the pavement. Looking up as the world went fuzzy, saw Adonis standing over me, a look of rage in his eyes as he reached down, took a hold of my jacket and then punched me a second time and everything went black.
Two weeks later I awoke from a coma in a Hospital, and the doctors explained that was lucky to still be alive. That aside from a severe concussion, I’d had a fractured orbital, and nose. That several of my ribs had been broken in multiple places, and that my spleen and a lung had been ruptured and the former removed surgically as a result. The Police knew I had been attacked, but when they questioned me about it, asking if I knew who it was responsible, I told them that I’d been ganged up on by a group of white men. That I was attacked because I was gay. I didn’t dare tell them that my sister and her baby’s father had been the one’s to beat me. Not out of a sense of embarrassment, but out of guilt and shame. Guilt that I had forced the altercation by approaching them, instead of keeping my distance, and shame because I knew I deserved it as a white man.
I was kept in the Hospital for another two weeks under observation, which made my desire to masturbate unbearable, especially because the Doctor’s had removed my chastity cage when I was admitted. When I was released finally, the first thing I did was go home, order a replacement chastity device, and fuck myself silly with one of my black dildos. That night when I slept, I dreamt of my sister and Adonis again. I dreamt that they took turns beating me to a pulp, before making passionate love next to my body as I suffocated from broken ribs puncturing my lungs, the last thing I would see is there lips joined in happiness.
I wish I could have that dream every night.
-End of Pt.1
Thanks for reading my first Interracial themed story, I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll read Pt.2 when I finish writing it.
-AWSCuck
