Dark Whispers 1+ (Patreon)

Chapter One:

The Worthington mansion sat on a hill overlooking the town of Worthington. The town was named for the mansion and for the plantation around it. Long ago, well after the civil war, when the U.S. military had forcibly made the plantation shut down and ordered its owner, a one Albert Allen Worthington, to give his slaves freedom, the land was stripped from him in his refusal and then turned into homes for the slaves that still lived there.

Since then, the mansion has remained on the hill, overlooking the land that once belonged to Albert Worthington, who died holding onto his fortune and refusing to part with even an inch of land until a bullet tore through his throat. The land was cultivated after that, and a small town swelled up around the mansion like weeds. The poor blacks that lived there slowly moved away, finding better livelihoods in the cities until industry was moved overseas. Now, all that was left of those that had died there were a few pages in the history books and their old, lingering resentments.

Titus Brooks knew almost none of this when he arrived. All he knew was that there was a creepy mansion sitting on a hill and that all of the houses here looked the same. They had the same two stories, and they had the same white walls and dark roofs. They had the same lawns and parking spaces. Each one of them was carefully measured and portioned, and they grew out of the mansion in neat rows all the way to the rest of the city.

Worthington was not a large city, and it was much smaller than Titus was used to. His mother told him that he would like it here, but he was not so sure. He didn’t know much about the south other than what he heard about on television. He expected to meet nothing but white racists and confederate flags. So far, he had gotten only friendly smiles, and what leers he did get weren’t because of his skin tone. His mother had told him, small town folk were leery of strangers, not of blacks.

He assumed that it helped that he and his mother were light-skinned, and Titus himself was not an intimidating youth. He was short, with close cropped hair and big, dark eyes. He was quiet, and that sometimes made people uncomfortable, but he made sure to carry himself respectfully. His mother made it clear to him from a young age that if he wanted people’s respect, then he had to show that he was worthy of it.

Aisha Brooks is many things but a victim is not one of them. She believes firmly that there is opportunity in America for young black men and women if only they are willing to work for it. It bothers her to see young, talented black men throw their lives away by dressing and acting like thugs, and while she is not to ignorant as to see the inequality there, she does also believe that some of that inequality is brought on and maintained by the black community itself.

She hates how the modern narratives surrounding black lives are built on inequity. In her opinion, sitting around and complaining about a broken system doesn’t do anything to fix it. She works hard in the belief that the hard work will be paid off in time, and she refuses to let anyone tell her what she can or cannot do. Statistics mean nothing to the individual, and Aisha is determined to succeed and build herself the American dream regardless of the obstacles that may or may not stand in her way.

“Home sweet home,” she said as they pulled up to the house. She smiled back at her son from the front seat. “Ready to see your new room?”

Titus shrugged and climbed from the car. His eyes were drawn again and again to the manor that loomed over them like a mountain. He shivered. “Feels kind of creepy, like the manor is still there, and like we’re still slaves being watched by our masters.”

“Slave master ghosts,” Aisha said. She had a no-nonsense air about her as she looked at the mansion. “The only thing in that house is stale air and maybe asbestos.” She smacked her son gently across the back of the head and frowned at him. “Remember, Titus, the only one who can make you a victim is you.”

“I know, I know.”

“You aren’t a slave.”

“I know,” he said with some fire in his voice, and the two glared at each other. He reached into the car and grabbed his backpack from the back seat. “You going to unlock the door or not.”

Aisha raised one of her dark eyebrows and placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? Who in the world do you think you’re talking to?”

Titus glared at her a moment longer and then sighed. “Sorry, ma. I’m just…it was a long trip.”

Aisha stared a moment longer and then relaxed. “It was,” she said. “I shouldn’t be lecturing you. I know you mean well, and that house is a bit creepy, but it’s also beautiful, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, and she squeezed his shoulder.

“I just don’t want you to grow up thinking you can do the same things as other kids can all cause of the color of your skin.”

“I know, ma.”

She kissed his forehead. “Come on. Let’s get what we can in and start unpacking. The movers should have already left everything inside.”

“Right,” said Titus, and he followed his mother inside.

Titus’ bedroom was upstairs and looked out on the mansion and the hill. His mother offered to trade with him, but he refused her. The mansion was creepy, but his mother was right. It was also a work of art in its architecture, and just like his mother had taught him, whatever it was before, it was nothing but a big, empty house now.

They ordered pizza for supper, and then Titus went to bed. It had been a long trip, and he didn’t have long before school would start. He needed to get his rest while he could. He and his mother had moved before, though never so far, and that was difficult. Being the new kid in a school several states away had to be worse than being the new kid at a school in the same city he had always known.

The bedroom was darker than he was used to. In the city, there was always light. Sometimes, it made it hard to sleep. Here, there was hardly any light. Even the streetlamps seemed dimmer, and high above him he could see more stars than he even knew existed. It was honestly a bit frightening to know how small he was by simply looking up at the cosmos and realizing how much more there was than him.

As he struggled to find sleep, Titus found his thoughts interrupted by a unfamiliar, almost animal sounds. They were almost inhuman, and they seemed to be coming from the house and from the walls itself. He ignored them at first and told himself it was his imagination, but the sounds grew louder and more insistent. He closed his eyes, but his entire room began to reek of human stench.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was not alone. In the darkness of his room, he saw human shapes moving. They were dark and barely visible in the darkness, but they were identifiably there. He saw flashes of black skin and hard muscle in the starlight that peeked into his room and gaped at the two figures fucking in front of him.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re so rough! Will! You’re so rough with me!”

“That’s not my name, bitch!”

The two shadows were fucking in doggystyle. The man was big and strong, and he took the woman from behind with deep, hard strokes. He smacked her hard as he spoke, striking her rear with enough force that Titus could almost hear the bruise forming. Then, with a bellowing shout, the man finished inside of the woman and dropped her on the ground.

Titus sat in bed shaking. He was frightened and bewildered. Logically, he knew this couldn’t be real, but he could smell the sweat and the sex in his room and in the floorboards. He could hear the sound of their flesh smacking, and he could see the outline of a big, black body lumbering toward his bed. The body was stronger than any he had ever seen before, shaped by work, and he could see an enormous dark shape between its legs.

“They took our names,” said the shadow man. “They took us from our homes, and they gave us new names. Slowly, with violence, sickness and starvation, they took our words and our culture from us. They bred our memories out of us until we were empty husks. They called me Zachariah, but that’s not my name.”

“Then…” Titus gasped and wetted his lips with his tongue. “Then, what is your name? W-What do I call you?”

“Fury,” said the voice, and there was a maelstrom roaring behind it. “That’s the only thing they left in us, boy. That’s the only thing they left in you. They bred the rest of it out of us. Beat it out of us. Bled it out of us. That’s all we got left, because that’s only cause nothing could hurt us enough to take it away…”

“I don’t…” The words barely leave Titus mouth before the air settles and the shadows leave. Like a held breath, they are gone, and he is alone with the hardest erection he has ever had. He stared at his tented pants, and then he strokes himself in a fugue, coming all across his shirt and his blankets before passing out.

When he wakes in the morning, Titus finds that his shirt and sheets are dried with more semen than he has ever produced in his life. He stares at the mess he made and then at the his exposed dick. Titus was not poorly endowed, but he was average before. He is no longer average now. He gapes at his swollen dick and recalls the shadows in vague, distant memories that feel more like a dream.

He climbs from the bed with his fat cock slapping between his slender thighs, and he stands at the window and stares at the plantation house on the hill. “Fury,” he whispers to himself, and he frowns at the thought. He doesn’t feel angry but confused.

Titus dresses for the day and struggles to tuck his swollen dick into his pants. He thought about telling his mother but decided against it. Aisha was a good woman, but she would not understand, and he didn’t figure that it was anything to worry about. He knew that some kids keep growing well into adulthood even, and he figured that he’d just had an unexpected growth spurt. Though, even as he told himself that lie in the morning, he knew it was a lie, and he could feel something else and more important inside of him that was changing.

On his way out of the house, while waiting for the bus, he saw his neighbors for the first time. They were two white people. One of them was a tall, slender woman with light brown hair and a big smile. She had large, half-lidded blue eyes, and she was married to a heavy man with dark, thinning hair and glasses. They both greeted him warmly and approached him as a unit, with their hands cupped and twined as they met him.

“Uh, hi,” said Titus, whose mother was already at work. “You, um, our new neighbors?”

“Yeah, we are,” said the man warmly. “Bill.” He offered Titus his hand, but he had a weak grip.

“I’m Sylvie. Nice to meet you,” said the woman brightly.

“Nice to meet you,” said Titus, and the three of them stood in awkward silence afterward. Sylvie rubbed her husband’s arm for a while as they stared at each other. The two of them kept smiling in a way that made Titus feel like he was on exhibit. Titus stared down the street and listened for the bus. He hoped it would arrive soon because the married couple seemed rooted in place staring.

“It is nice to meet you,” said Bill on a delay, and he checked his watch afterward. “Sorry to cut this short, but we should get to work.”

“Is it that time already,” said Sylvie, who looked at Bill’s wristwatch, too, and then laughed a high, bell-like laugh. It was not pleasant. It sounded to Titus like it was synthetic and almost bird-like, and the two of them kept staring at him.

“Yeah. Well, uh, thanks for saying hi,” said Titus, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets and teetered on his feet.

“Of course. We would never ignore you,” said Bill. He nudges Titus’ shoulder in an over familiar way and made a show of it, like he wanted Titus to see. Titus’ wrinkled his brow but otherwise stayed quiet as Bill walked away. “Catch you on the flipside, dog.”

“Yeah. See you,” said Titus with a wave, but Sylvie lingered.

“Titus, wasn’t it?” Titus nodded, and the pretty white woman took his hands and squeezed them tight. “We just wanted you to know, we’re allies. Black. Lives. Matter. Fuck the police, right?”

Titus squirmed in her grasp. “Uh…”

She smiled. “If you or your mother need anything, money, food, clothes, maybe help finding a job, we’ll help you.” She squeezed again. “Anything.”

“Thanks but, uh, we moved for mom’s work, so I think we’re okay.”

Sylvie nodded. “Just keep in mind. You’re safe here.”

“R…Right,” said Titus, and Sylvie released his hands as the bus appeared around the curb and started roaring down the street toward him. She gave him a smile and a wave before going to join her husband in the car, and the two of them kept staring at him still as they drove off. Titus stared, too, but he felt like they were staring for very different reasons.

School was different. The building was old and much smaller than where Titus came from. At home, he was just another number. His mother always lived in white neighborhoods most of his life, and she insisted that he go to prestigious schools. He was used to white students outnumbering him, and hew as used to stares, but he was not used to this sort of scrutiny.

People like Bill and Sylvie were strange to him, but they were also familiar. He never understood the way that they emphasized his dark skin, but he was used to people doing it to him. His mother had told him as a child that people put too much stock in skin color. She told him that people would make assumptions about him because of his skin color. Some of those assumptions would be good and some would be bad, but it was his job to just do his best and to prove to people who he was.

He tried to remember that as he walked the halls and got an equal number of stares and glares. The people here were not like Bill or Sylvie. They did not seem interested in making him feel safe. If anything, they seemed to be determined to make sure he knew that they were watching. They wanted him to know that if he stepped even one toe out of line, they would not only catch him, but they would punish him appropriately for it, too.

A few of the teachers called him boy, particularly the men. They were big-bellied and bald headed, and when they said it, it felt like an insult. Titus was not ignorant of the intent, but he kept his head down and told himself that it was to be expected. They did not have many black students around here, and it was his job to prove his worth to him. Scrutiny of outsiders was normal for small towns, and the fear of the other was normal for people.

When he got home that night, he had supper in silence with his mother. She ate quickly and efficiently, and then the two of them went their separate ways. His mother was never not working, but he could tell by the look on her face that her first day had been similar to his. His mother always worked in what was described as men’s spaces, and she always worked circles around the men for half of the respect. It impressed the right people, though, but it never seemed to be enough.

Titus did not talk to her about that. He just went to his bed, and he worked hard, and he tried not to think about the noises he heard last night and the bodies he saw in the shadows. When he slept, he locked his window and his door, and he paced the room and checked all the corners without admitting to himself that was what he was doing. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, but it sounded to him like groans of pain and pleasure.

He fell asleep quickly and slept until he woke up. There was no sex this time. There was only darkness. He rolled over, but he could feel eyes on him. When he sat up on his forearms to look, he found a big, lumbering dark shape in his chair. The wood seemed to be strained by the size of the figure it failed to contain.

“They made me, but they don’t make the chairs for men like men.” A deep, angry chuckle followed, and the shadows said, “But that’s just it, isn’t it? They wanted the bodies for labor, but they never wanted you along with it.”

“Who are you,” asked Titus quietly. He felt fury from the voice, but he felt no danger from it.

“I had a name,” said the voice with violent resentment, and it seethed for a time afterward. “It don’t matter anymore, though, now does it? I don’t even have the body anymore. All that is left of me is what they made of me.”

Titus sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. “You’re a ghost?”

“No but you are haunted.”

Titus frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Life never does,” said the voice. “Enmity.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what they call it. Enmity. That’s what you felt in that building, that school, and that’s what those white folks felt from you.”

“White folks? You mean Bill and Sylvie? I don’t feel any enmity toward them.”

“I didn’t say you did, boy.” Titus heard it. He heard the difference in the way the voice said it. It called him a boy, but it meant child. It was not an insult. It was not a placeholder for another word. “Didn’t you listen? THEY felt it from you.”

“But I didn’t have it in me,” argued Titus, and he thought how he was beginning to feel some enmity.

“It don’t matter whether you had it in you or not to begin with. They put it in you. White folks. They don’t see you. They see what they expect you to be, and sometimes they see what they want you to be, but they don’t see what you is, and they never will. That’s the point. That’s what it’s all about. You weren’t never a person to any of them, and you never will be.”

Titus sat in the dark of his bedroom, his blankets tight around his waist, and stared at the specter. He could not tell if the body was not there or if it was composed of shadows. More than that, he couldn't tell if the shadows were that black or if the flesh was. It was darker than night, though, and far more imposing in the way it growled. He chewed what it said but did not speak.

"This land," said the darkness with frantic, rising anger. "It was never meant for us, and it will never be our homeland."

"Diaspora," whispered Titus, a word that he knew but was not thinking. It was placed in his mouth, but it seemed to fit.

The darkness shifted; the shadows settled. "Yes," said the whispers in the darkness. "They took us from our homeland, and they took our homeland from us. Now, we have nowhere that their disease has not spread. We are not ourselves but reflections of the image that they have projected onto us. Even when we see ourselves, it is through the smudged mirror of their complicity and violence."

"What can we do about it?"

There is a snort and some laughter. "You don't listen, do you, boy?" There it was. That word. It meant more than three letters could convey. "I was married, and I bred my wife."

"You mean she had your child."

"She had my offspring," said the darkness. "Livestock. No. No, no, less than. They didn't beat the livestock so hard."

Titus remembered his dreams. Black women, brown and beautiful with hanging, swinging bosoms. Frothy mouthed men with dark, obsidian skin shining with sweat throwing themselves into soft, yielding bodies. Fluids exchanged from open wounds and open bodies. This was not lovemaking. He did not make love to his wife with those white men watching.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Legacy," said the darkness. "We did not sign the will, but the signature was writ with our blood anyway. Slavery. Sharecropping. Jim Crow. Redlining. Crack Cocaine. Aids. Prisons. They keep making promises, don't they?"

"I won't be a victim."

"There's no bootstraps big enough or strong enough, boy."

"Get out!"

Titus' bedroom door opened, and his mother peeked in. She was wearing a red robe that hugged her womanly, motherly curves. He saw a hint of her soft brown cleavage and felt his swollen member throb painfully, fully erect and him noticing it for the first time. She looked him in the eye and said, "What're you shouting about?"

"I…" Titus looked around. The light from the hall scattered the shadows. "I…think I had a bad dream."

His mother looked at him and saw his tented sheet. She went momentarily wide-eyed and adjusted her robe. "I see," she said. "Are you okay now," she asked as she clutched the doorknob tightly.

Titus nodded.

"Then get some sleep," she said. "It's been…a long week."

Titus nodded again. "Love you, ma'am."

"Love you, too," said his mother, and she closed the door.

Titus turned on his side for sleep but had to fight for it. He dreamt again of black bodies grinding and slapping. Their flesh was wet with spittle and sweat. It glistened like polished stone as they met with tectonic force, new lives forming from their union like rising mountains. It was as painful but necessary, and the lives they made were sold off for money or kept for work but they were never theirs. There were no families for them. There was no humanity offered.

Chapter Two:

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KotoChaos here to interrupt: Dark Whispers/Legacy was one of the stories I was most excited about.  It felt very different from what I had been doing for a few years, but no one voted on it.  I had outlined the entire story but had only started the first chapter.

Happy Fapping!

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IV. Dark Legacy

4.2. Aisha notices something different about Titus that makes her horny. At school, a white Bully taunts Titus while playing basketball. Afterward, Bully’s GF apologizes, and Titus boldly asks her on a date, which she agrees to. Later, Titus catches his Neighbor’s Wife sunbathing and feels horny. Dark whispers urge him to take her, and Titus pulls out an astonishingly long penis and fucks her face before taking her pussy in the back yard.

4.3. Titus has more dreams about the ghosts and wakes up hard. He meets Neighbor’s Wife and fucks her before school. Bully confronts Titus about asking out GF and Bully beats up Titus. At home, Aisha confronts Titus about being stronger and tells him that he has to earn the white folk’s respect. That night, GF blows Titus in secret.

4.4. Neighbor’s Wife rides Titus in bed before Aisha comes home and tells Aisha that she was checking on Titus when Aisha catches her leaving. Aisha thanks her and tells Titus not to cause White Wife trouble. At school, Bully keeps taunting Titus. Teacher intervenes and keeps Titus. Titus tells her that he will try harder, and she informs him that he doesn’t need to try harder. After school, Neighbor catches Titus with Wife and submits.

4.5. Titus dominates his neighbors, and Teacher sets up a meeting with Titus and Aisha. Teacher tries to discuss the racial tension in the class and suggests counseling, but Aisha says that Titus needs to toughen up. Teacher tries to talk to Titus about it later that day, but Titus is angry with her. GF asks to see Titus again but he refuses her.

4.6. Aisha notices something is strange about Titus but doesn’t know what. She comes home to find Titus with Wife and Neighbor slobbering on him. His big cock excites her, but she calls the cops. Titus is arrested at Aisha’s insistence and taken to jail for trespassing and aggressive behavior. Cop is horny, though, and confronts Titus about his big cock and ends up submitting to him.

4.7. Aisha is at home alone as the ghosts of the house haunt her. She is horny beyond belief when Titus comes home and fucks her into submission. He later takes her to see the neighbors and all four of them have an orgy.

4.8. Titus returns to school and rumors of his arrest has spread. Teacher speaks with him, and Titus fingers her to a climax. GF speaks with him, and Titus makes her feel him through his pants and tells her to meet him that night. When GF and Titus meet in the night, GF rides him. Bully finds them with his friends but the sight of his girlfriend coming on Titus’ big black cock subdues him. While his friends flee, Bully collapses onto his knees and stares as Titus seeds GF.

4.9. Open on Titus fucking Bully into submission at his home before Bully drives him to school. At school, Titus is distant and Teacher notices. She keeps Titus and checks in on him, and he fucks her and degrades her as a colonizer. She weeps and begs him for forgive her as he finishes inside of her, and another teacher catches them and drags Titus off of Teacher, but Teacher begs for him to punish her more. Titus, alarmed, runs away and hides until he is found by Cop, who kneels to suck him and eats his asshole until he is hard.

4.10. Titus fucks the principal’s wife in front of the principal and seeds her. Afterward, he leaves school and comes home to find GF and Bully waiting. He sends them out of his room and sits alone in the dark. The ghosts stir, and Titus confronts them about the seething rage that is boiling inside of him. The ghosts explain to him that the rage will never leave him, that he is an avatar of hate. Titus asks why he has to carry their hate, and the ghosts explain to him that the world is imposing it on him. They explain that he has been saddled with their understanding of him from the start. His mother wants him to be respectable because she assumes that he is not, Bully sees him as hungering for GF, and GF saw him as exotic and lustful. Neighbor saw him as a victim and Teacher did, too. No one saw him. He is what the world sees him as, and the only way he can define himself is by their terms. Titus rejects this idea, but when he leaves his bedroom, he sees the truth in the statement as each of them see him as something else than what he is. He strips, and he commands them to worship him.

4.11. Epilogue: Titus has taken over the plantation and now runs the town. Everyone serves him, man and woman alike, and he has bred many of the women there as his people were bred before. Aisha lives as his queen, but it is a hollow throne he sits on.