Ryan woke with two cocks down his throat and two up his ass. He didn't
know who these guys were, and foolishly he started to fight back. Two
dozen fists pummeled Jerome's tired body into submission, and then
they had their way with him. There was constant verbal derision as a
parade of big black cut, uncut, long, thick thin, pale, yellow, brown
and one heavily tattooed dick found purchase in one of Jerome's well-
stretched openings. Ryan was sniveling in the fetal position with cum
dribbled all over his face and chest, and all over his butt and
thighs.
"Put this back on, pussy," Nat ordered throwing the wet crumpled
jockstrap at the sobbing giant in disdain.
Ryan unrolled it and pulled it on. His mind retreated from Jerome's
beaten and abused body into the safety and security of his cotton
prison. Jerome blinked and stifled his crying. Damn, he was sore, but
he hadn't experienced the horror and humiliation of being raped this
time, just the aftermath. He felt relieved, even if he was sore. He
knew what to do, he knew what Ryan hadn't known to do. He got to his
knees and abjectly thanked his masters for showing him how to be a
real man.
They laughed and patted his head as they filed out. Ryan was
confused. He was a dumb white jock, and he now belonged to a big mean
black guy who was on the down low. He didn't like it, but then no one
asked his opinion. He was still in shock from being a big mean
muscled black man, and yet being helpless at the mercy of men some
smaller, some bigger, but who totally outnumbered him.
When they were alone for about 15 minutes, Jerome spoke.
"Ryan Standish, you're mine now. I done figured out that you were my
jockstrap, and now you're going to take Nat's abuse for me on the
downlow, and when you're not doing that -" here he paused and grinned
down at his soiled pouch. Ryan felt oddly warm, and he felt himself
growing, "You're going to be my bitch boy on the down low! Yeah,
you're changing back, I done figured out what that cajun Vinnie done
to you. It's just a simple Voodoo, I can do it in my sleep. Dang,
you're a good subject. Everyone thinks its the Voodoo spell, powders
or master that makes a spell work, they got it all backwards. It's
the victim's natural loa, and how responsive it is to suggestion, and
Ryan boy, your loa's a damn sight responsive!" Jerome laughed.
Ryan was was flesh and blood stooped over Jerome's crotch. Ryan was
silent as his mouth - formerly pouch - remained filled with Jerome's
growing manhood. After Jerome was satisfied, Ryan followed Jerome into
the shower and scrubbed the master and himself. When Jerome was dry,
Ryan suddenly felt light headed. Jerome left him hanging as a damp
drying jockstrap draped over the shower head. Ryan drifted off to
sleep horrified and at the same time relieved to be owned and know his
place in the world. His place in the world was between Jerome's thighs
- either as a white pussy boy or as a jockstrap. As far as Jerome was
concerned it - Ryan - was the same thing - a dumb white jock and
Jerome's property.
On Monday, Jerome would gather Vinnie, Horst and Carter together and
read them the riot act. No one would be trying to change Ryan back
'ceptin' when Jerome wanted him back. He was good at the carrot and
the stick thing. That would be the stick. Then he'd turn pussyboy
back and let his buddies use him, that'd be the carrot. He grinned
wondering what the former big man on campus would think about that -
then he realized he didn't care, as he like Ryan knew that Ryan was
owned by him, and would never be anything more than Jerome wanted him
to be. Jerome chuckled rolled over and went to sleep dreaming of
banging Ryan one more time forever.