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.".
- Previous page: Ch. 02 The Wash
