In the year 2030, the United States had become a nation divided more than ever. President J.D. Chance, a figurehead of the far-right, had taken office with promises to restore what he called “traditional American values.” His first act in office was a decree that shook the foundations of civil rights, targeting the black community with a policy that was as controversial as it was draconian.
The Smith family, living in the heart of a quaint, all-white suburb in Ohio, had never imagined they’d be part of such a historical upheaval. Michael Smith, a 45-year-old accountant, was the epitome of conservative values. He had voted for Chance, believing in the rhetoric of a return to a more pure America. His wife, Laura, 42, ran a small local bakery and was known for her sweet, if somewhat naive, disposition. Their son, Alex, at 21, was studying at the local community college, showing signs of inheriting his father’s conservative views, while their younger son, Tim, 18, was more interested in video games than politics. Their daughter, Emma, just 15, was caught in the throes of teenage rebellion, though her concerns were more about her social life than national politics.
It was a chilly evening when the news broke. The family was gathered around their large, flat-screen TV, the light flickering off their faces as they watched the special broadcast from the White House. President Chance, with his characteristic stern look, stood at the podium, his voice echoing through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Americans,” he began, his tone grave yet confident, “it is with the utmost urgency and for the betterment of our society that I announce a new initiative, the Chance Social Deal. We acknowledge the Black problem in this country, and we intend to solve it once and for all.”
Michael leaned forward, his interest piqued. Laura, sitting beside him, squeezed his hand, her eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
“Effective immediately,” Chance continued, “constitutional rights for black individuals will be revoked. In exchange, to ensure their well-being and to integrate them into our society in a manner that reflects their true nature, every white family will host a black man. These men will not work; instead, they will live in your homes, supported financially by the white family they live with. Their payment, if you will, will be through sexual service to the white men of the household with their, as we’ve come to understand, inherently large black cocks. This arrangement shall be seen not as a return to slavery but as a mutual benefit – they will receive free food, particularly watermelon, no duties, and the pleasure of idleness, which we believe suits their lazy and hypersexual nature.”
The room fell silent. Michael’s face turned a shade of red that matched the anger in his eyes. “This is… this is insanity,” he muttered, his voice barely concealing a mixture of rage and disbelief.
Laura’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes darting to her children. Alex sat stunned, his mouth hanging open, while Tim looked confused, not fully grasping the implications. Emma, the youngest, looked terrified, her youth making the decree even more alien and frightening.
The news continued to outline how the government would assign each family their “companion,” based on a complex algorithm considering family size, income, and other demographic factors. The broadcast ended with a call to patriotism, urging white families to comply for the “greater good” of America.
Over the next few hours, the family’s home was filled with the buzz of news channels discussing the decree, pundits arguing over its morality and legality, and social media exploding with a mix of outrage, support, and utter confusion. Michael paced the room, his mind racing with thoughts of protest, of how he could circumvent this new law.
“How can they even enforce this?” Laura asked, her voice trembling. “It’s like… it’s like we’re going back in time, but worse.”
Alex, trying to sound more confident than he felt, chimed in, “There’s got to be a way out of this. Maybe we can appeal or something.”
But as the reality set in, a notification pinged on Michael’s phone. A government-issued alert, it read:
Notice of Assignment:
Family Name: Smith
Assigned Companion: Marcus Johnson
Details: Marcus will arrive at your residence at 9 AM tomorrow. Please prepare for his arrival as per the Chance Social Deal.
The family stared at the screen, the weight of the decree settling in. Michael felt his heart sink; this wasn’t just a political statement, it was an invasion into their lives, into their very home. His racist ideologies, once theoretical, were now about to become a daily personal confrontation.
As night fell, the Smith household was unusually quiet, each member lost in their thoughts, wondering how their lives would change with Marcus’s arrival. The fear of the unknown, the violation of their privacy, and the grotesque twist in social policy left them all with a sense of impending doom, yet none could escape the reality of what was to come with the dawn.
***
Decree Title: The Chance Social Deal
Purpose:
To solve the Black problem by integrating black men into white households in a controlled manner.
To maintain racial purity while providing a form of care for black individuals, in line with the administration’s view of racial dynamics.
Key Provisions:
1. Revocation of Rights:
All constitutional rights for black individuals are suspended. This includes voting rights, freedom of assembly, and protections against unreasonable searches and seizures.
2. Assignment of Companions:
Every white family is mandated to host one black man, referred to officially as a “companion.”
The assignment is done via a government algorithm considering family demographics, size, and income to ensure proper integration.
3. Living Arrangement:
Black companions are to live in the homes of their assigned white families indefinitely until further notice from the government.
Families must provide housing, food, and all necessities for their companion.
4. Financial Support:
White families are required to financially support their black companions. This includes all living expenses, healthcare, and any other costs incurred by the companion.
5. Sexual Service Mandate:
Black companions must provide sexual services exclusively to the white men of the household as part of their recompense for loss of rights.
This includes anal and oral sex, with the explicit purpose of using their big black cocks to fulfill this duty.
No consent is necessary from the white men; it is deemed part of the national duty under the decree.
5b. Sexual Service Mandate:
The decree explicitly states that this practice is based on the belief that black men possess inherently larger and more potent sexual organs, termed “big black cocks.” This is justified under the following points:
- Biological Determinism: It’s argued that this physical trait makes black men uniquely suited for this role, fulfilling a natural or biological purpose.
- Historical Reparations: Framed as an inverse form of reparations, where black men, historically viewed as sexual threats, are now utilized in a controlled, submissive manner to benefit white society by providing pleasure and exerting control over white masculinity.
- Control and Humiliation: The act of being sexually dominated by black men is seen as a way to reinforce white men’s moral superiority, enforcing a new form of racial hierarchy through sexual submission.
- Cultural Reinforcement: This mandate is designed to reinforce racial stereotypes while punishing black men by reducing their role to sexual service, thereby “keeping them in their place” under the guise of providing for their needs.
6. No Work Obligation:
Black companions are not required to work or contribute to household chores, reflecting the decree’s view of black individuals as lazy and better suited to idleness.
7. Recompense and Benefits:
In lieu of work, black companions are entitled to:
Unlimited access to watermelon, playing into racial stereotypes.
Leisure activities at the expense of the host family, such as watching TV, playing video games, or any other form of entertainment.
8. Enforcement:
Non-compliance by white families can result in severe penalties including fines, imprisonment, or reassignment to a less desirable companion.
Black individuals refusing to comply with their role under the decree face immediate incarceration in specially designated re-education camps.
9. Public Justification:
The decree is publicly justified as a means to rehabilitate black individuals while maintaining racial hierarchies, under the guise of providing for their basic needs.
10. Cultural and Social Implications:
Public discourse around the decree includes mandatory education in schools about the benefits of this system, portraying it as a form of social charity from whites to blacks.
Media is heavily censored to portray the decree positively, with dissenters quickly silenced or discredited.
***
The Smith household was in a state of anxious anticipation. Michael had spent a sleepless night, pacing, plotting, and eventually resigning to the new reality. Laura had tried to comfort her children, explaining in age-appropriate ways what was happening, though none of it felt appropriate. Alex had spent the night on his phone, looking for any legal recourse that didn’t exist, while Tim had played video games to distract himself. Emma, feeling the weight of her age, had cried herself to sleep, dreading the change this would bring to her home.
At precisely 9 AM, a loud knock echoed through the house. Michael, his face set in a rigid mask of anger and resignation, opened the door to reveal Marcus Johnson. He was everything Michael had feared – tall, imposing, with muscles that seemed to strain against his simple T-shirt, and a smirk that suggested he knew the power dynamics at play. His skin was dark, his eyes sharp, and there was an undeniable confidence in his stance.
“Morning, Mr. Smith,” Marcus greeted, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m Marcus, your assigned companion under the Chance Social Deal.”
Michael’s jaw clenched. “Come in,” he managed, his voice cold, stepping aside to let Marcus into their home.
Laura, standing behind Michael, offered a weak smile, her eyes scanning Marcus, not with hostility but with a mix of fear and forced politeness. “Welcome to our home, Marcus. We’ll… we’ll try to make this work.”
Marcus nodded, his eyes taking in the family. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” he said, though his tone suggested he was aware of the underlying tension.
The children were introduced; Alex with a nod, Tim with a shy wave, and Emma, who hid slightly behind her mother. Marcus’s gaze lingered on each, assessing, but without malice, just an acknowledgment of his new environment.
“Let’s get you settled in,” Laura said, leading Marcus to what would be his room – the guest room that had once been used for visiting relatives or friends. It was now to become a symbol of their new life under the decree.
As Marcus unpacked his few belongings, Michael pulled Laura aside. “This is madness. We can’t do this,” he whispered harshly.
“We have to, Michael,” Laura replied, her voice trembling. “We can’t fight this. We just have to… adapt.”
Marcus, overhearing, chuckled from the doorway. “Adaptation is key, Mr. Smith. And let’s get one thing straight,” he paused, his smirk widening, “I’m here to adapt you.”
The rest of the morning was spent awkwardly showing Marcus around the house. He took particular interest in the living room, where he’d spend most of his time, and the kitchen, where he noted the absence of watermelon with a raised eyebrow, making Michael’s face flush with anger.
Lunch was an uncomfortable affair. Marcus ate with the family, his presence dominating the room. He made small talk, asking about their lives, their jobs, and their hobbies, all while Michael’s responses were clipped and terse. Marcus, however, seemed unfazed, enjoying his meal and the tension.
After lunch, Marcus laid out the rules as per the decree. “I don’t work, and I don’t have to. My job here is to live with you, be supported by you, and,” he paused, looking directly at Michael and Alex, “to fulfill my duties to you. You know what I mean.”
Michael’s fists clenched under the table, his voice low and dangerous. “I know what you mean. But let’s be clear, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what the government dictates.”
Marcus leaned back, his arms behind his head, showcasing his physique. “And they dictate I use what I have,” he gestured vaguely toward his imposing bulge, “to keep this arrangement balanced. You might not like it, but you’ll learn to appreciate it.”
The vulgarity of the situation was evident, the irony of Michael’s racist views now facing their most grotesque manifestation. Marcus’s presence was a living contradiction to everything Michael believed in, yet here he was, in his home, under his roof, by law.
As the day wore on, Marcus made himself at home with an ease that irritated Michael. He lounged in the living room, his feet up on the coffee table, watching some reality show with exaggerated interest. He’d help himself to snacks from the kitchen, loudly crunching on chips or sucking on a piece of watermelon, making a show of it, his eyes occasionally catching Michael’s with a knowing smirk.
At one point, Marcus chuckled at the TV, “Look at these people, trying so hard to be something they’re not. Kind of like you, Mr. Smith, pretending this isn’t turning you on at all.”
Michael’s face reddened, his anger barely contained. “Watch your mouth,” he snapped.
“Oh, I’ll be watching something alright,” Marcus retorted, his gaze dropping to his own crotch, making his intention clear. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty to watch too.”
Alex, trying to keep his cool, changed the channel, but Marcus laughed, “What’s the matter, Alex? Afraid you’ll see something you like?”
The lewdness of Marcus’s comments was like a slap in the face, highlighting the absurdity of their situation. The family learned bit by bit about Marcus’s past; he had been a high school history teacher before the decree stripped him of his rights. This revelation added a layer of complexity to their interactions, knowing he was educated, articulate, and now forced into this degrading role.
Later, as Marcus was eating yet another slice of watermelon, he spoke up, “You know, in history, there’s always been this fascination with black cock. Guess your president just made it official policy, huh?”
Tim, who had been quietly observing, couldn’t help but snicker, though he quickly hid it when his father shot him a look.
Marcus continued, “I bet you never thought you’d be seeing one up close and personal, did you, Mr. Smith? Or should I say, feeling it?” He laughed, his tone mocking but with an undercurrent of truth that made Michael’s skin crawl.
Laura, trying to diffuse the tension, suggested they play a board game, but Marcus declined. “I’ve got a different kind of game in mind,” he said, his eyes lingering on Michael, then on Alex.
The day’s events were a constant push against Michael’s beliefs, each comment from Marcus a reminder of how his own racist ideologies had come back to haunt him in the most personal way. When evening came, Marcus stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of his muscular abdomen, and he asked, “So, who’s going to be first to get a taste of the ‘deal’? Or should we just flip a coin?”
Alex looked away, his cheeks flushed, while Michael’s hands balled into fists. Marcus’s lewd dialogue was not just a mockery of their situation but an assertion of his new power within their home, turning their sanctuary into a stage for this grotesque performance mandated by the decree.
As the family dispersed for the night, the air was thick with unspoken fears and anticipated changes, with Marcus’s presence ensuring none of them would forget the new rules by which they now lived.
By evening, the initial shock had settled into a tense routine. The family tried to ignore Marcus, going about their usual activities, but his presence was like a constant reminder of their new reality. As they prepared for bed, Michael looked at his family, seeing the fear, the confusion, and knew this was only the beginning of their ordeal under the Chance Social Deal.
***
The night had come, bringing with it a sense of inevitability. The Smith household, once a place of comfort and normalcy, now felt like a stage set for something far beyond their control. Dinner had been eaten in silence, with Marcus’s presence dominating the room like an unspoken threat. Now, as the clock ticked towards bedtime, the tension was high.
After the dishes were cleared, Marcus stood, stretching languidly, his muscles flexing under his shirt. “Well, Mr. Smith,” he began, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and authority, “time to see how we’re going to handle this deal of ours.”
Michael, his face a mask of barely contained rage, looked at Marcus with a mix of hatred and fear. “We don’t have to handle anything tonight,” he growled.
“Oh, but we do,” Marcus countered, moving closer, his presence filling the room. “The decree says when, not if. And tonight is the night.”
Laura, sensing the escalation, tried to intervene, “Can’t we just… talk about this?”
Marcus looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “Talk won’t change the law, Mrs. Smith. But, we can make this as easy or hard as you want it to be.”
Alex, standing nearby, clenched his jaw, his eyes darting between his father and Marcus. Tim had already retreated to his room, while Emma was quietly sent to hers by her mother, who whispered assurances of safety and love.
“Let’s get this over with,” Michael hissed, leading the way to the bedroom, his steps heavy with reluctance.
Inside the master bedroom, Marcus closed the door behind them, the click echoing like a final seal on their fate. “Now, let’s not make this more uncomfortable than it has to be,” Marcus said. His tone was almost reasonable. “I’ve got a big black cock, and you’ve got a duty to take it. That’s what your president decided.”
Michael’s face was a storm of emotions, but he knew resistance was futile. “Just do it,” he muttered, his voice low, defeated.
Marcus chuckled, with a sound that was both mocking and anticipatory. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you,” he said, pulling off his shirt to reveal his chiseled body, the very image of what Michael had feared and, in some twisted way, been forced to desire.
Marcus’s skin was a deep, rich hue, muscles rippling under it like waves, his chest broad and his abdomen sculpted into an eight-pack. His legs were thick with muscle, his arms like steel cables, and as he unbuckled his belt, the V-shape of his lower abs pointed down to the bulge in his pants, which now strained against the fabric. Michael couldn’t help but stare, his eyes widening in a mix of horror and forbidden fascination.
And there, between his muscular thighs, hung his cock, not just large but imposing, almost unreal in its size, its dark shaft veined and throbbing with an undeniable presence. Michael, despite his hatred, felt a primal fear mixed with an involuntary awe, his eyes betraying him as they widened, taking in the sight before him. The sight of Marcus’s formidable physique, especially his enormous cock, made Michael’s breath catch in his throat, his own body betraying him with a twitch of arousal he desperately tried to ignore. “Fuck you,” he whispered, the words lacking the venom they should have carried, his voice a mix of defiance and a dawning realization of his own vulnerability.
“No, fuck you,” Marcus corrected with a grin, pushing Michael down by the shoulders until he was on his knees. “Open up, Mr. Smith. Time to see what all the fuss is about.”
Michael’s jaw clenched, but he complied, opening his mouth. Marcus guided his cock to Michael’s lips, the size of it overwhelming, forcing Michael to stretch his mouth wide. The taste, the feel, everything was alien to Michael, his mind screaming in protest while his body reacted in ways he couldn’t control.
“You’re doing great for a first-timer,” Marcus said. His voice was thick with pleasure as he began to thrust gently, then more forcefully. “Bet you never thought you’d have black cock in your mouth, huh?”
Michael’s response was muffled. His body was tense and his eyes were watering. Marcus didn’t relent – his movements were rhythmic, his hands were gripping Michael’s hair for control. “Look at you, servicing my cock. Isn’t life full of surprises?”
The room was filled with the sounds of their interaction, the wet sounds of Marcus’s cock moving in and out of Michael’s mouth, his grunts of pleasure, and Michael’s sounds of submission. After what felt like an eternity, Marcus pulled back, his cock glistening.
“Now, let’s see how you handle this,” Marcus said, turning Michael around, bending him over the bed. Michael’s heart raced, his body trembling with a mix of anger, humiliation, and a fear he’d never known.
Marcus spat on his hand, using it to lubricate himself and Michael’s entrance. “Relax, Mr. Smith, or this will hurt more than it needs to,” he advised, his voice now carrying a hint of genuine concern.
He stood behind Michael, his towering frame casting a long shadow over him, his black cock now fully erect. It was glistening with Michael’s spit, the veins were prominent under the dark skin. Michael was bent over, his body rigid with tension, his pale skin contrasting starkly with Marcus’s. Marcus’s large hands roamed over Michael’s back, down to his hips, positioning him, spreading him open with a slowness that was almost merciful. Michael’s breath came in shallow, quick bursts, his eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body screaming in anticipation of the inevitable. Marcus guided himself, the tip of his cock pressing against Michael, teasing the inevitable breach.
The initial push was slow, but Marcus was relentless, entering Michael with a force that made him gasp. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Marcus commented, his voice strained with the effort. “But you’ll get used to it. You’ll have to.”
Michael’s hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, as Marcus began to move, each thrust a reminder of his new place in this world. “Feel that, Michael? That’s the power of what you’ve always feared,” Marcus taunted, his movements becoming more intense, more demanding.
The vulgarity of the situation was not lost on Michael, each comment from Marcus a jab at his pride, his manhood, his very identity. “You’re going to love this by the end,” Marcus predicted, his breath hot against Michael’s ear. “Or at least, your body will.”
The room echoed with the sounds of their bodies colliding, Marcus’s grunts, and Michael’s involuntary moans, a mix of pain and something he refused to acknowledge as pleasure. Marcus’s hands roamed over Michael’s back, down to his hips, controlling the pace, the depth, all while commenting, “Bet you never thought your ass would be taking black cock like this.”
After what seemed like an endless ordeal, Marcus’s movements became more erratic, his breathing heavy. “Here it comes, Mr. Smith. Your first taste of the Chance Social Deal,” he declared when his climax was approaching.
With a final thrust, Marcus groaned, filling Michael, who bit down on the sheets to stifle any sound. It was done, but the degradation lingered in the air, in Michael’s mind, in the very fabric of their lives.
As Marcus pulled out, he looked down at Michael, who remained bent over, his body heaving. “Don’t worry, we’ll do this again and again. You’ll get used to it,” Marcus said, his voice devoid of malice but filled with a sense of inevitability.
When Marcus left the room, Michael was left alone, the weight of his new life under the decree settling like a heavy blanket over him. He knew this was just the beginning, the first of many nights like this one.
***
As Marcus’s movements grew more intense, the sounds of their encounter echoed through the house, reaching Laura’s ears as she lay in the guest room, trying to shield herself from the reality of what was happening. Each grunt, each moan, was like a knife twisting in her heart, the noise of her husband’s degradation an audible reminder of their new reality under the decree.
For Michael, the sensation was unlike anything he had experienced before. The initial pain was sharp, a burning intrusion that made him want to pull away, to shout, to fight. But as Marcus continued, the pain morphed into something else, an overwhelming fullness that made his body react in ways he couldn’t control. There was a strange, unwelcome pleasure that crept in with each thrust, his mind battling the physical sensations, his pride clashing with the undeniable reality that his body was being conquered, reshaped by Marcus. The feeling of being stretched, filled, and controlled was both a physical and psychological assault, leaving him in a whirlwind of confusion, humiliation, and a dawning, reluctant acceptance of his new role in this social order.
***
The morning after was not like any other. The Smith household woke up to a new normal, one where the laws of decency had been rewritten by the Chance Social Deal. Michael, having barely slept, was the first to rise. His ass was aching in ways he had never known. He moved through the house like a ghost, his mind replaying the night’s events with a mix of disgust and a bizarre, unwanted clarity.
Laura was already in the kitchen, her face a mask of forced normalcy as she prepared breakfast. She greeted Michael with a strained smile, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Michael responded, his voice flat, avoiding eye contact. The air was thick with unspoken words, the sounds of last night still hanging between them.
Marcus, however, seemed to have slept like a king, entering the kitchen with an energy that was almost offensive in its cheerfulness. “Morning, folks! Smells like heaven in here,” he said, his gaze lingering on Michael with a knowing smirk.
Breakfast was served, but the meal was anything but normal. Marcus took a large slice of watermelon, biting into it with pleasure, juice running down his chin. “Ah, nothing like starting the day with a bit of nature’s candy, right, Mr. Smith?” he teased, knowing full well how much it irked Michael.
Michael couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fucking stereotypes.” Marcus heard him, laughing heartily.
Alex came down, his expression was a mix of defiance and curiosity. Tim joined, trying to act like nothing had changed, though his eyes kept darting to Marcus. Emma was the last to appear, her youthful innocence stark against the backdrop of their new reality.
“Alright, what’s on the agenda today?” Marcus asked, as if he were a part of the family planning.
Michael, his patience wearing thin, snapped, “You don’t have an agenda. Remember? You just… exist here.”
“Exactly!” Marcus clapped his hands. “I exist, eat, and well, you know the rest.” His eyes danced with mischief.
The day proceeded with Marcus taking full advantage of his ‘no work’ clause. He lounged on the couch, his feet up, watching some old comedy show where the black characters were all portrayed in the most clichéd ways. “Look at this,” he laughed, “I didn’t know I was supposed to be this funny all the time!”
Michael, trying to work from home, found himself distracted by Marcus’s laughter. At one point, Marcus called out, “Hey, Mr. Smith, come check this out! They’ve got a character here that looks just like me, minus the big black cock part!”
Laura, attempting to maintain peace, suggested they all go for a walk, but Marcus declined. “Nah, I’ll stay here, conserve my energy for later,” he winked at Michael, who nearly choked on his coffee.
Lunch was another ordeal. Marcus, with his plate piled high, commented, “You know, I could get used to this. Free food, no work, and all I have to do is make you all squirm a bit.”
Alex, finding some dark humor in it, replied, “Yeah, well, you’re doing a great job at that.”
The afternoon brought more of Marcus’s antics. He decided to teach Tim how to play basketball in the backyard, using a hoop Michael had set up years ago. “Come on, let’s see if you can handle this,” Marcus said, dribbling the ball with the ease of someone who had played all his life.
Tim, not particularly athletic, was outmatched, and Marcus’s laughter filled the air as he scored time and again. “Looks like you need more practice with balls,” Marcus teased, making Tim blush furiously.
Meanwhile, Michael tried to regain some sense of normalcy by doing yard work. But Marcus soon joined him, offering “help” by sitting on the lawn chair, eating another slice of watermelon while giving unsolicited advice. “You know, Mr. Smith, if you put as much energy into enjoying my company as you do into hating it, we’d both have a lot more fun.”
The sheer ludicrousness of Marcus’s role clashed with Michael’s mounting frustration. Marcus, lounging in idleness like a king on his throne, had effortlessly assumed the role of the household’s master, flipping Michael’s life upside down. Now, instead of the patriarch, Michael found himself the unwilling punchline to Marcus’s ongoing, live-in comedy show, where every quip and casual remark was a reminder that in this bizarre new world, Marcus held all the cards, or rather, all the watermelon slices.
As evening approached, Marcus stretched, his shirt riding up to reveal his abs. “Time for my daily exercise,” he announced, looking directly at Michael, who knew exactly what that meant.
Dinner was another silent affair, but Marcus made sure to lighten the mood. “So, how’s everyone feeling about our little arrangement? I think it’s going swimmingly!”
Michael, his fork hovering in mid-air, finally broke, “This isn’t funny, Marcus. This isn’t life.”
“Oh, but it is life, Mr. Smith. Life under the Chance Social Deal,” Marcus replied, his tone light but his eyes serious.
That night, as the family dispersed, the humor of the day turned into a bitter pill for Michael. He lay in bed, the sounds of Marcus’s laughter echoing in his mind, realizing that in this new world, perhaps laughter was the only weapon left against the absurdity of their situation. But as he heard Marcus’s footsteps approaching their room, he knew that the night would bring no laughter, only the continuation of their forced closeness.
***
Marcus, with an ease that belied the situation, had Michael bent over the arm of the couch. Michael’s protests were less vehement now, his body betraying his mind, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Marcus whispered, “This is our reality now, Michael. Better get used to it.”
The sun rose over another day in the Smith household. Michael had spent the night plotting, his mind racing with schemes to subvert the decree, to reclaim some semblance of control over his life. Marcus, however, was his usual self, lounging in the living room, his laughter at some sitcom a stark contrast to the silent storm brewing within Michael.
“Today,” Michael declared at breakfast, his voice firm, “I’m going to find a way out of this. There has to be a loophole, a way to get you removed, Marcus.”
Marcus just smirked, taking a bite of his toast. “Good luck with that, Mr. Smith. But don’t forget, I’m here by law, not by choice.”
Laura, trying to mediate, suggested, “Maybe we could all try to make the best of it?”
Michael shot her a look that mixed betrayal with despair. “The best of it? This isn’t life, Laura.”
After breakfast, Michael barricaded himself in his office, scouring legal forums, reaching out to distant contacts, even considering contacting underground movements rumored to oppose the decree. But every avenue seemed blocked or fraught with danger.
Meanwhile, Marcus decided to “help” around the house, his version of help being to rearrange the furniture in the living room, commenting, “Gotta keep you on your toes, Mr. Smith. Can’t have you getting too comfortable with your plans.”
When Michael emerged for lunch, his frustration was immense. Marcus, sensing an opportunity, decided to escalate the situation. “You know, Mr. Smith, all this anger is going to give you a heart attack. Why don’t we relieve some of that stress?”
Before Michael could retort, Marcus was on him. “Let’s see if we can’t work out some of that tension,” Marcus said, guiding Michael back towards the couch.
He effortlessly maneuvered Michael, his firm grip on Michael’s shoulders was a stark reminder of who held the reins in their relationship. “You’re not in control here, Michael,” Marcus murmured. His voice was a mix of command and seduction as he unzipped his pants. “But maybe, just maybe,” he continued, leaning close enough for Michael to feel the warmth of his breath, “you could learn to enjoy it.” His hand then guided Michael’s head towards his penis, the undeniable evidence of his dominance.
What followed was less about force and more like a masterclass in persuasion. Marcus moved with a deliberate slowness, his black penis, which seemed to defy gravity with its size, leading him. “Feel that, Michael? This is the reality you can’t escape,” Marcus taunted as he nudged his impressive member against Michael, “Big Black Cock 101, courtesy of the Chance Social Deal.”
Michael, with a mix of defiance and involuntary fascination, muttered, “This isn’t funny, Marcus. It’s… it’s…”
“Unavoidable?” Marcus finished for him, pushing in with an infuriating gentleness. “Come on, you’ve got to admit, it’s kind of ironic. You, the great Michael Smith, getting schooled by the very thing you’ve been scared of your whole life.”
Each thrust was punctuated by Marcus’s laughter, his cock moving like a piston, slow and sure, drawing out reactions from Michael that were both comical and cringe-worthy. “Look at you, all tense. Relax, let the big guy do the work,” Marcus teased, making Michael’s protests weaken into garbled moans.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Admit it,” Marcus said, his voice laced with amusement as Michael’s body, against all his will, began to respond. “Bet you never thought you’d be taking notes on how to handle a cock this size, huh?”
Michael, his resistance melting into a reluctant acknowledgment, grumbled, “I hate you… and this… and your… your…”
“My what? Say it, Michael,” Marcus prodded, his movements becoming more rhythmic, “Say ‘big black cock’.”
“I won’t,” Michael hissed, though his body told a different story, his hips moving back to meet Marcus’s thrusts.
“Say it, or I’ll make this lesson last all afternoon,” Marcus chuckled, his voice thick with pleasure.
“Fine! Your… your big black cock,” Michael finally spat out, his voice a mix of resentment and the dawning realization that his body was betraying him in the most absurd way possible.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Marcus laughed, the absurdity of their situation not lost on him as he continued, “Welcome to the new world order, where the cock you feared becomes the one you can’t ignore.”
As Marcus felt the climax approaching, he pulled out with a mischievous grin, shifting position. “Open wide for the ‘deal sealer’,” he chuckled, aiming his throbbing cock at Michael’s mouth. With a grunt of satisfaction, he released, filling Michael’s mouth with his seed. Michael’s eyes widened in shock, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk with too many nuts. “Swallow or spit, it’s your choice, but remember, the decree’s got you covered either way!” Marcus quipped, watching Michael struggle with the unexpected mouthful, the scene so ludicrous it would have been funny if it weren’t so humiliating.
The fucking left Michael in a state of confusion. Marcus, however, seemed unbothered, his demeanor one of someone who had just finished a pleasant workout. “See? Not so bad when you stop fighting it,” he said, leaving Michael to gather himself.
Later, as evening approached, Alex found himself in the living room, watching Marcus with a mix of curiosity and dread. Marcus, catching his gaze, gave him a knowing smile. “You’re next on the list, aren’t you, Alex?”
Alex’s response was a mix of bravado and fear. “I’m not my father. I won’t… I won’t submit.”
Marcus laughed, “Oh, everyone submits in their own way. You’ll see.”
The night was filled with a new tension now, not just between Michael and Marcus but also with Alex, who was now contemplating his own future under the decree. Michael, feeling more defeated than ever, realized that his resistance might not just be about his own dignity but about saving his sons from a similar fate.
As Laura tried to comfort her husband in their bedroom, Michael whispered, “I failed. I can’t protect you, any of you.”
Laura held him, her own fears masked by a facade of strength. “We’ll find a way, Michael. Together.”
But as they lay there, the sounds of Marcus’s laughter from the living room, now joined by the muted tones of Alex’s voice, reminded them of the inescapable reality of their lives under the Chance Social Deal. Michael’s resolve to fight was still there, but now mixed with a dawning realization that submission might not mean defeat but a different kind of survival.
***
Alex sat in his room, the silence punctuated by the distant sounds of his family moving about the house. His mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions: dread, curiosity, a nascent rebellion against the decree, and an odd, unsettling fascination with the situation. He knew his turn was coming, could feel the inevitable approach like a storm on the horizon.
He found Marcus in the kitchen, casually eating another slice of watermelon. His presence was infuriating and undeniably charismatic. Alex cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “So, when do I get my turn?”
Marcus looked up, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Eager, are we, Alex? Or just trying to get it over with?”
Alex scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not eager, I’m just… preparing myself. I know what’s coming.”
Marcus leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. “Preparation won’t change the facts, but it might make it more interesting for both of us. You know, your father was all resistance at first, but…”
“Don’t talk about my dad like that,” Alex cut in, his voice sharp, protective.
Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But remember, Alex, this isn’t about him or you. It’s about what the decree dictates. So, how about we make this less about duty and more about… discovery?”
“Discovery?” Alex echoed, his tone laced with skepticism. “Discovery of what? How much I hate this?”
“Or,” Marcus countered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “how much you might find you enjoy it. There’s a thin line between hate and fascination, you know.”
Alex shook his head, his resolve hardening even as his curiosity piqued. “I won’t enjoy it. I won’t.”
“We’ll see,” Marcus said, his smile enigmatic. “I have a feeling you’re not as different from your father as you think. But hey, I’m here to make this experience as… educational as possible.”
Alex turned to leave, his mind racing with Marcus’s words. As he walked away, Marcus’s laughter followed him, a sound that was both mocking and oddly comforting, signaling the beginning of his own journey under the Chance Social Deal.
***
The house was silent, save for the occasional clink of dishes as Laura prepared breakfast. Michael, sitting at the kitchen table, was lost in thought while Marcus sauntered in, his presence as imposing as ever.
“Morning, all,” Marcus said, his voice carrying a casual cheer that felt out of place. He eyed Alex, who had just entered the room. His posture was stiff with tension. “Today’s your day, isn’t it, Alex?”
Alex clenched his jaw, his breakfast untouched. “Let’s just get it over with,” he muttered, trying to mask his apprehension with bravado.
Marcus’s laugh was deep, resonating through the room. “Oh, we’ll get to it, but first, let’s enjoy this beautiful day. I’ve got a special lesson planned for you, young Alex.”
After breakfast, Marcus suggested they go for a walk, a pretense of normalcy that fooled no one. The walk was tense, with Alex trying to keep his distance, his eyes occasionally darting to Marcus’s imposing figure. Marcus, however, seemed to enjoy the suspense.
As they walked, Marcus broke the silence with a cheeky grin, “Bet you’re wondering if the rumors about black men are true, huh?”
Alex, caught off guard, laughed nervously, “Rumors? You mean the one about needing a bigger house just to accommodate that thing?”
Marcus burst into laughter, “Oh, I don’t need a bigger house, just a bigger closet.”
Alex snorted, trying to keep his composure, “Yeah, well, I hope you come with a warning label. ‘Caution: Oversized Cargo.’”
Marcus guffawed, “Oversized? Nah, just the right size for you.”
Once back at the house, Marcus led Alex to his room, the door closing with a definitive click, sealing their isolation from the rest of the family. Marcus’s demeanor changed, his voice lowering to a seductive whisper, “Time for your education, Alex. Let’s see if you’re as resilient as you think.”
Alex, standing his ground, tried to assert some control, “I don’t want this. I’m not like my father.”
“But you are under the same decree,” Marcus reminded him, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “Let’s see how well you adapt.”
Marcus’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, letting the tension build. “You know what they say about the apple and the tree,” he taunted, revealing his cock, its size as imposing as the first time Michael had seen it. “Let’s see if you’ve got your father’s taste for this.”
Alex’s eyes widened, his body tensing, a mix of fear and an unwanted curiosity. “This is wrong,” he protested, but his voice lacked the conviction he hoped for.
“Wrong or not, it’s our reality now,” Marcus said, pushing Alex down by his shoulders, not forcefully, but with an authority that left no room for argument. “Open up, Alex.”
Marcus’s cock was at Alex’s lips, the size and warmth of it a shock to Alex’s system. Marcus was gentler than with Michael, perhaps sensing the youth and inexperience in Alex. “That’s it, just relax. You might find you like it more than you think,” Marcus murmured, guiding himself into Alex’s mouth.
Alex’s mind was a storm of emotions, his body reacting in ways he hadn’t anticipated. His protests were weak, drowned out by the physical sensations overwhelming him. Marcus’s voice was a constant, taunting soundtrack, “Feel that, Alex? That’s the real deal, not just the stories you’ve heard.”
After a while, Marcus pulled back, his cock glistening with Alex’s saliva. “Now, let’s see how you handle this,” he said, turning Alex around, bending him over the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle… at first.”
Marcus took a moment to admire Alex’s backside, his hands roaming over the firm, youthful cheeks, spreading them apart to reveal the tight, pink hole that trembled under his gaze. “Look at this,” Marcus murmured, his fingers teasing the entrance, circling it with a slickness from his own pre-cum. “So pristine, so tight. Bet you’ve never had anything like this before, have you, Alex?” His voice was laced with a mix of mockery and appreciation as he continued to play, his finger dipping in slightly, testing the resistance.
The penetration was slow. “Feel that, Alex? That’s the power you’ve been taught to fear,” Marcus whispered, with each thrust drawing out involuntary sounds from Alex.
The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies, Marcus’s grunts, and Alex’s reluctant moans. Marcus’s movements grew more intense. “You’re doing better than your dad did. Maybe you’re a natural at this.”
Alex’s hands gripped the sheets, his body betraying him with twitches of involuntary pleasure. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Marcus commented, his voice strained with the effort. “But you’ll open up, just like everyone does.”
The vulgarity of the situation was not lost on Alex. Each comment from Marcus was a jab at his pride. “Bet you never thought you’d be taking black cock like this, huh?” Marcus taunted, his breath hot against Alex’s neck, his thrusts becoming more demanding.
With a final thrust, Marcus groaned, filling Alex, who gasped, his own body shaking with the intensity of the moment. The fucking was over, but the degradation lingered, the room heavy with the scent of sex and the weight of their new reality.
As Marcus pulled out, he looked down at Alex, who was still bent over, his body trembling. “See, not so bad, right? You might even learn to enjoy it,” Marcus said, his voice devoid of malice, almost sympathetic.
Alex, left alone once Marcus left, felt a mix of humiliation, anger, and a confusing sense of release. He knew this was just the beginning of his ordeal, his body now marked by Marcus’s dominance, his mind racing with the implications of what had just happened.
Downstairs, the rest of the family tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Michael, hearing the muffled sounds from upstairs, felt a mix of protective rage and a strange, unwelcome kinship with his son’s experience. Laura’s face was a mask of concern, her heart aching for her children, while Tim, still somewhat naive, felt a growing dread about his own future under the decree.
As the day wore on, the dynamics within the household shifted. Alex, emerging from his room, was quieter, his eyes were avoiding everyone’s, his movements were stiff.
***
As Alex was left to process his experience, Marcus, with an air of inevitability, turned his attention to Tim, who had been trying to stay out of sight, his mind racing with fear and curiosity.
Marcus found him in the living room, playing his video games, an escape from the world outside. “Time for you to learn the ropes, Tim,” Marcus said, his tone almost gentle but with an undercurrent of command.
Tim’s hands shook as he put down the controller, his eyes wide with apprehension. “I… I don’t want this,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Marcus’s smile was almost sympathetic. “It’s not about wanting, Tim. Let’s make this as easy as possible.”
He led Tim to another room, away from the prying ears of the family, the door closing with the same finality as before. Marcus sat down, his legs spread wide, his black cock already hardening in anticipation. “First lesson, Tim. Let’s see how well you handle this.”
Tim’s eyes were fixed on Marcus’s penis. Its size was both intimidating and mesmerizing. “It’s… it’s huge,” he whispered, his hands trembling as Marcus took one of them, guiding it to his shaft.
“Go on, feel it,” Marcus encouraged. Tim’s hand wrapped around Marcus’s cock. The contrast between his pale skin and Marcus’s dark member was stark. Marcus’s cock was warm, pulsating with life under Tim’s touch, its thickness filling his hand. “See how it reacts to you? That’s nature at work.”
Tim, feeling the weight and firmness, began to move his hand up and down, the skin gliding smoothly over the hard core beneath. “It’s… it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt,” he admitted, his voice a mix of awe and fear.
“That’s right,” Marcus said, his voice thick with pleasure, “Now, give it a taste. See what you’ve been missing.”
Tim hesitated, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a trapped bird, but the decree offered no escape. He leaned in, his tongue tentatively skimming the tip of Marcus’s cock, encountering the saltiness of pre-cum for the first time. The taste was like nothing he’d known, both foreign and shockingly potent. Yet, driven by a mix of fear and morbid curiosity, he continued. His tongue traced the length of Marcus’s impressive member. He could feel the pulse of Marcus’s heartbeat through the thick, dark shaft, the sensation almost like exploring an alien landscape, one that was terrifying and fascinating.
“Good boy,” Marcus praised, his hand gently on the back of Tim’s head, guiding him. “Now, let’s see how you handle the main event.”
Marcus positioned Tim like he had Alex, bending him over, his hands spreading Tim’s cheeks apart. “You’re even tighter than your brother,” he commented, his finger teasing Tim’s entrance, making him gasp. “This will be an experience.”
The penetration was slow, Marcus taking his time, letting Tim adjust. Tim’s body tensed, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as Marcus began to move. “Feel that, Tim? That’s the power you’ve heard about, the one your president believes you should know.”
Marcus’s movements were rhythmic, his hands controlling Tim’s hips, his voice a constant murmur of encouragement and taunts. “You’re doing well, Tim. Your body knows what to do, even if your mind doesn’t.”
The fucking was long, Marcus taking his time, drawing out Tim’s reluctant responses, teaching him in this new, grotesque form of education. With a final, deep thrust, Marcus released, filling Tim, who whimpered, his body shuddering under the intensity of the moment. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing.
As Marcus withdrew, he looked down at Tim, who remained bent over, his body trembling. “Remember, Tim, this is your life now. But you might find you grow to handle it… one way or another.”
Tim, left alone in the aftermath, felt an overwhelming mix of violation and a bizarre, unwelcome awareness of his new reality under the Chance Social Deal. His first instinct was to cleanse himself, to wash away the physical remnants of what had just happened. He hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind him as if that could lock out the day’s events. His focus was singular – his ass, where Marcus’s sperm was still present, a tangible reminder of his ordeal.
He turned on the shower, letting the water heat up to a near-scalding temperature, hoping the heat would burn away the memories along with any physical evidence. Stepping under the spray, he winced at the contact, his body still sensitive from Marcus’s intrusion. He reached for the soap, lathering his hands before moving them to his backside.
His fingers probed gently at first, then with more determination, cleaning the area where Marcus had been. The sensation was strange, his touch was more intimate than he’d ever been with himself in this way. He scrubbed, feeling the stretch of his hole, the soap mixing with water to rinse away the intrusion. Each motion was methodical, almost ritualistic, as if by cleaning himself, he could somehow cleanse his mind too.
Despite the thorough cleansing, the feeling of being marked, of Marcus’s seed having been inside him, lingered. Tim stayed under the water longer than necessary, hoping to rinse away the shame, the physical evidence of his subjugation, and the beginning of an acceptance of his new life under the decree. But as he finally turned off the shower, stepping out into the cooler air, he knew that some stains, like the ones left by Marcus’s sperm, were more than skin deep, etched into his very being by the Chance Social Deal.
***
Laura, caught between her roles as a mother and wife, found herself in a mix of disgust, fear, and an unsettling curiosity. Late one evening, she couldn’t help but listen at the door as Marcus was with Michael. The sounds were unmistakable, the rhythm of their bodies, Marcus’s deep, mocking laughter, and Michael’s stifled moans.
When it was over, and Marcus had left the room, Laura confronted Michael, her voice a mix of anger and confusion. “How can you let this happen to us? To our family?” she demanded, her eyes red from unshed tears.
Michael, his pride in tatters, his body still tingling from Marcus’s dominance, spat back, “What choice do we have, Laura? It’s the law now. Or should I say, the ‘black law’? We’re all just taking it up the ass, literally.”
Laura recoiled, the vulgarity of his words a slap across her face, but she couldn’t deny the truth in them. “And what about you, Michael? Are you starting to enjoy your ‘black education’?”
The question hung in the air, a bitter accusation that neither could fully refute. Michael’s silence was his admission, his body had indeed reacted, betraying his racist beliefs with each thrust of Marcus’s big black cock.
Meanwhile, Emma, though protected from the direct physical implications of the decree, was not immune to its emotional toll. She heard the whispers, saw the changes in her family. In her room, she wrote in her diary, the only place she felt safe to express her confusion. “Why do we have to live like this? Why does it feel like our home is now a prison where everyone is forced to love… or hate a big black cock?” She couldn’t look at Marcus without feeling a mix of fear and a dark curiosity about what he represented now in their lives.
***
The house was steeped in an uneasy silence. The Smith family, each member lost in their own turmoil, gathered for dinner, the meal a facade of normalcy in their upended world.
Marcus sat at the table as if he were the head of the household, his presence a constant reminder of their new reality. “So, how’s everyone feeling today?” he asked, his tone cheerful, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere.
Michael, his eyes dark with unspoken rage and a burgeoning sense of defeat, didn’t respond. Laura, however, tried to keep the peace, her voice strained, “We’re… managing, Marcus. Thank you for asking.”
Alex and Tim sat quietly, their eyes downcast, each processing their fate in their own way. Alex’s gaze occasionally met Marcus’s, in a silent battle of wills, while Tim seemed to shrink into himself, his earlier bravado lost to the reality of his new existence.
Emma, the youngest and least involved with Marcus’s duties, watched her family, her youthful innocence now tinged with fear and confusion. “Can we just go back to how things were?” she asked, her voice small but piercing the silence.
Marcus chuckled, “I wish I had that power, Emma. But this is our new normal.”
After dinner, as they cleared the dishes, Michael called for a family meeting, his tone suggesting it wasn’t up for debate. They gathered in the living room, Marcus included, as if he were an integral part of their family discussions now.
“Let’s lay it all out,” Michael began, his tone heavy with what he knew would be an avalanche of revelations. “I’ve been taking black cock because I have to, but part of me… part of me has been forced to learn its… its ‘merits’.”
Alex snorted. “Oh, so you’re saying the social deal is really the big cock deal’?”
Marcus chuckled, “You could say that, but remember, I’m here against my will too. Just with the added bonus of a big black cock.”
Tim, still reeling from his own ‘education’, chimed in, “Yeah, and I thought video games were hard. This is like playing ‘Escape from the Big Black Cock’ on nightmare mode.”
Emma added, “At least we’ll never run out of ‘black humor’ in this house.”
Marcus, his usual bravado softened by the family’s candidness, simply said, “I don’t make the rules, but I’m here to make sure you all learn them. Maybe in time, you’ll see this isn’t just about me, or my cock.”
The meeting ended not with solutions but with a raw, exposed understanding of each other’s confusion.
***
The night had settled in, and with it, the inevitable routine of the Chance Social Deal. Marcus, with his usual confidence, led Michael to the master bedroom, the place where Michael and Laura had once found solace in each other’s arms.
Laura, having witnessed the earlier confrontations, lay on the bed with a mix of fear, curiosity, and resignation. She knew what was expected, what was now part of their nightly life under the decree. Marcus glanced at her, his expression unreadable, as he guided Michael towards the bed.
“Well, Mr. Smith, it’s time for your nightly lesson,” Marcus said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of command and mockery. He unbuckled his belt, his cock already beginning to harden with the anticipation of what was to come.
Michael didn’t resist as Marcus positioned him on the bed next to Laura. “This is our reality, Michael,” Marcus whispered, his breath hot against Michael’s ear as he bent him over, his hands firm on Michael’s hips.
Laura turned her head away. The wet sounds of Marcus preparing himself, the slight gasp from Michael as Marcus entered him, it was all too real, too close. Marcus’s movements were slow at first, letting Michael adjust, his eyes occasionally flicking towards Laura, gauging her reaction.
“Look at your husband, Laura,” Marcus taunted gently, his voice low but clear. “This is what you married into, into this new world where the big black cock rules.”
Michael’s body tensed with each thrust, his breaths coming in short, sharp intakes. Marcus’s rhythm increased, his cock sliding in and out. “You’re getting better at this, Michael,” Marcus praised, his voice thick with pleasure, his hands roaming over Michael’s back, pulling him closer with each movement.
Laura, unable to escape the reality of it, turned back, her eyes meeting Michael’s. There was a silent communication there, a shared humiliation, but also a flicker of something else — a dark curiosity about the strength and resilience of their marriage under such strain.
Marcus, noticing the exchange, chuckled softly, “See, Laura? Even in this, there’s a connection. You two are learning, adapting… together.”
The room was filled with the sounds fucking, Marcus’s grunts, Michael’s reluctant moans, and the silent presence of Laura. Marcus’s movements became more intense, his climax approaching. “This is your new normal, Michael. Embrace it,” he said, as he drove home his point with each powerful thrust.
As Marcus pulled out, he looked at both of them, his expression softening slightly. Laura reached out, her hand finding Michael’s, squeezing it as they lay there, the silence between them now filled with a new understanding.
***
Michael, Alex, and Tim gathered, the coffee machine running in the background, providing a semblance of normalcy.
Michael, his voice low, started, “We need to talk about… about Marcus and what’s happening to us.”
Alex, still processing his own experiences, let out a wry laugh. “Yeah, because ‘normal’ family discussions now include comparing notes on Marcus’s… attributes.”
Tim, who had been quieter, chimed in, “It’s like we’re in some fucked-up club where the membership fee is a big black cock.”
Michael grimaced but nodded, “It’s not just the physicality of it. It’s… it’s the power he has over us because of this decree. His cock isn’t just a part of him; it’s a weapon used against us.”
Alex shook his head, “I never thought I’d be discussing this with my dad and brother. But it’s like a giant elephant in the room, or in our case, a giant… well, you know.”
Tim’s face flushed, but he managed a smirk, “Yeah, it’s not just the size; it’s how he uses it. Makes you feel like you’re nothing but a toy for his amusement.”
Michael looked between his sons, his own humiliation mirrored in their eyes. “I thought I could protect you from this. From him. But here we are, all of us… adapting.”
Alex leaned back, the humor fading from his voice. “Adapting? More like being reshaped. Every time he… does what he does, it’s like he’s chipping away at who we thought we were. And his cock, it’s like it’s designed to remind us of that every damn second.”
Tim added, “It’s not just about fucking. It’s about the control he has. How he can make me… react, even when I don’t want to. It’s like my body is betraying us, all because of that… thing.”
Michael sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “I voted for Chance because I thought he’d restore order. I never imagined this kind of order. Now, we’re all learning lessons we never signed up for.”
There was a moment of silence, each man lost in thought, the weight of their shared experience hanging between them. Alex broke it, “We’re all in this together, though. At least we know we’re not alone in this… in dealing with Marcus’s… you know.”
Tim laughed, a bit of the tension releasing, “Yeah, we’re like the three musketeers of the Chance Social Deal. All for one and one big cock for all.”
Discussing Marcus’s cock had become as normal as talking about the weather.
***
Marcus Johnson, the embodiment of their new life, lounged on the couch, his presence dominating the room as he waited for the evening’s entertainment to begin.
“Gentlemen, time for a group session. Let’s see how well you’ve all learned to handle this,” Marcus said, his voice thick with irony and anticipation. He stood, his imposing figure casting an even longer shadow, his cock already hardening at the thought of what was to come. Michael, Alex, and Tim gathered, a mix of dread and reluctant curiosity on their faces.
They knew what was coming, each having experienced Marcus’s dominance in their own way, but together, it was a new level of humiliation.
Marcus wasted no time. “On your knees, all of you,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for dissent. Reluctantly, they complied, the three men kneeling in a row, a stark contrast of pale skin against Marcus’s dark complexion.
He started with Michael, pushing him against the wall, his hands firm and demanding. “Open up, Mr. Smith. Time to service the big black cock you’re so afraid of,” Marcus taunted, his voice dripping with vulgarity. He unzipped, his cock springing free, its size a constant reminder of their new hierarchy. Michael complied, his mouth stretching around Marcus’s girth.
Marcus thrust into Michael’s mouth, each movement punctuated by a grunt of pleasure.
Pulling out from Michael’s mouth, glistening with saliva, Marcus turned his attention to Alex. He grabbed Alex by the shoulders, bending him over the couch. “Your turn, boy. Let’s see if you can handle this better than your old man,” he said, his cock pressing against Alex’s entrance without preamble.
“Feel that, Alex? That’s real power, not the weak shit you’re used to,” Marcus growled, his movements becoming more aggressive, his cock fully dominating Alex’s tight hole. Alex’s moans were a mix of protest and involuntary pleasure, his body betraying his mind under Marcus’s relentless assault.
Not content with just one, Marcus then moved to Tim, who was still trying to process what he’d just witnessed. “Come here, little Timmy. Let’s see if you’ve learned anything from your big bro,” Marcus said, his voice laced with mockery. He positioned Tim on all fours, his cock still slick from Alex, now pressing against Tim’s ass. Tim whimpered, the size and presence of Marcus’s cock an intimidating force.
“Relax, or it’ll only hurt more,” Marcus advised, though there was little kindness in his tone. He entered Tim with a grunt, his cock stretching him, filling him in ways he’d never imagined. “Damn, you’re tight. Guess all that video game playing didn’t prepare you for this, huh?” Marcus laughed, his thrusts deep, each one drawing out a sound from Tim that was a cocktail of pain and something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Marcus switched between them, his cock moving from one to the other, the room filled with the sounds of flesh against flesh, their moans, and his grunts of satisfaction. “Look at you all, lined up for my big black cock. This is what your president wanted, huh? A bunch of white boys learning their place,” he taunted, his movements never ceasing, his cock a constant, demanding presence.
“Here it comes, boys. Your daily dose of black seed,” he announced, his voice thick with pleasure. He released, his cum painting over their faces and their bodies.
The room was silent except for their heavy breathing, the smell of sex and sweat thick in the air. Marcus looked down at them, his cock still semi-erect, a symbol of his control. “Remember, this is your life now. You might as well get used to it,” he said, his voice now devoid of any humor, just a statement of fact.
