New Music in the Hood, Part 1 (TG RC AR) (Patreon)

Here we are folks! The new ongoing TG story, as determined by the Premium tier poll. Hope you enjoy!

Harvey and Karen are a nosy white suburban couple in their mid-fifties who ruthlessly work to enforce the gentrified policies of their Home Owner Association. But when the pair make some unsavoury racial remarks about the new neighbours' taste in hop hop music, they suddenly find not only their genders swapped, but their races changed! And what's more, they both find themselves compelled to enjoy the sounds of hip hop, as well as playing it.

Warning: contains themes of racism, and bad attempts at imitating Cardi B lyrics! (it's the last time, I promise). Any representation of a group does not necessarily reflect the author's views (seriously though, it's pretty clear from the story that the racist white couple are the badguys, while the neighbours are nice people just trying to have a good time).

Next Part Here 

New Music in the Hood

Harvey snarled.

“Karen, come look! Those kids are in the front yard playing their so-called ‘music’ again.”

His wife practically ran across the room and stood beside her husband in the living room. Harvey let her have some space as they glared at the neighbours across the street.

“Just vile,” Karen said. “What has the world come to that we get those people as neighbours?”

Harvey and Karen Johnson had lived in their gentrified neighbourhood for thirty years. The two were both blonde haired, blue eyed, white-skinned WASPs, comfortably upper-middle class all their lives, though even in their two story suburbia, they always claimed to be ‘working stiffs.’ The two had met in high school, and had been together through their ups and downs, even staying together after Harvey cheated on Karen that one time with the woman neither of them ever talked about anymore. Ever.

Neither of them had travelled far beyond their own insular town, and they all knew not to go to those places, where those people congregated. The truth was, for all that they would claim to be the most antiracist people in the world, the pair were very quick to give the side-eye to a black man walking through the neighbourhood, or reconsider their food orders when an Asian woman was their server, or to tell a young Latino man to ‘go back where he came from’ for daring to comment on politics, even if the man’s roots went back four generations. Karen was far more willing to be open about these comments: she had nearly gotten into trouble at several restaurants and clothing stores with her demands to ‘see the manager’, while Harvey was generally more subtle, preferring to use his status as one of the Home Ownership Association board members to shut down any ‘unwanteds’ that tried to move into their neighborhood. But when roused to anger, he could be mighty direct with his comments.

Their attitudes had alienated their son Kevin and daughter Maggie. The two sometimes visited for Christmas and occasional dinners, but they were off in the big city, and unbeknownst to either of the parents, Kevin was in a gay relationship while their daughter was a ‘latte sipping elite liberal type.’ In typical fashion though, neither Harvey nor Karen blamed themselves. It was always the fault of ‘mainstream media.’ Always.

“Can’t we do something with the HOA?” Karen asked. “Something we can use to sell the house out from under them?”

They peered at the neighbours. Deshawn and Yunique, they were called. The names alone made Karen scoff. Why couldn’t people have ordinary, good western names like James or Penny? They were both young - in their mid-twenties - and black-skinned. Both were attractive, and while Harvey claimed he was just peering out of frustration, he couldn’t help but notice that Yunique had a wonderfully frizzy afro and curvy body. It was wrong to be turned on by her - he used to laugh at comedies about such a topic before political correctness went mad and ruined all those great ‘yellow fever’ films - but he still couldn’t help but stare. He just hoped Karen never noticed. Deshawn, on the other hand, Harvey hated. From his muscular body to masculine confidence, to his ‘street talk’ which didn’t belong, the man was a threat. In their few interactions Harvey had actually felt a nervous twisting in his gut, particularly since the man was taller and fitter, making him aware of his own sagging belly and deflated muscles.

Karen, for her part, found herself jealous looking at Yunique. Her youth incensed her, as did her carefree manner and habit of showing her midriff. It was so improper! And those breasts! A decent woman would not have a stripper chest like that, no show so much cleavage. It revealed the woman, in Karen’s eyes, to be an utter slut. It repulsed her to see that Yunique sometimes visited church, and Karen did her best to gossip about all the bad things she’d seen her do, even if some of them were exaggerated or entirely made up.

Deshawn was a different story. She’d always grown up fearful of men like him. Her father had taught her to call such people ‘boy’, but in his presence she found that difficult, and so she opted instead to simply call him ‘you’ or ‘hey you’, as a deliberate act of dehumanisation. She was not attracted to him, finding his looks to be barbarous and uncivil, particularly the way he shaved his head and wore his trousers too loosely. And that backwards cap! It all disgusted her.

“I’ll think of something, don’t you worry dear,” Harvey said as she reflected on her disgust at their unwelcome neighbours. “The second that grass gets too tall, I’ll serve them a notice. And I’ll keep serving notices until they get the message. And if they don’t get the message.”

“Good,” Karen said. “They don’t belong. Their kind never does. It’s not racist, it’s just about what’s proper.”

“Exactly.”

In the yard opposite theirs, Yunique Hallem and Deshawn Williams (neither of them were married, another big strike in Karen’s religiously fanatic book) were simply dancing on their porch while listening to a horrid series of lyrics - horrid, that was, to Harvey and Karen’s ears. The couple were unable to discern the lyrics, but were horrified to hear the word ‘ass’ in their, as well as the words ‘black beauty.’

“What’s wrong with white beauty?” Harvey asked. “All beauty matters. Singling one type of beauty out is the real racism.”

Karen nodded, always the first to agree with her husband.

“If they keep playing that ghetto trash, I’m going to go over there and remind them that there are kids in this neighborhood.”

There was not, in fact, any kids in the neighborhood, with Deshawn and Yunique being the youngest individuals in the gentrified area. This did not interfere with Harvey’s twisted logic, however.

“This is the same one as the other day,” he grumbled. “Cardi B or some nonsense.”

“No, that was the one about the . . . woman’s area.”

“Ugh, that filth. At least they turned it off and apologised.”

“They showed their true selves.”

Harvey smirked. “They did. You know, I think I’ll go over and check their grass tonight, just to make sure they’re following our HOA guidelines.”

Karen grinned. Her face was hollowed out by years of self-inflicted misery and frustration, and it was not a good look. Harvey tried to avoid thinking of his wife as unattractive, but it didn’t stop him from having his private porn collection. The one with the more . . . exotic ladies, that she must never be allowed to find out.

“Harvey, I’ve never been more attracted to you,” she joked.

He gave an awkward grin. “That’s nice, dear.”

The two continued to stare through the window at their neighbours, who spotted them. Yunique and Deshawn gave a friendly wave, but the two gave their practised stares.

“Yes, I think I’ll see them tonight.”

***

That night brought an unexpected infuriation: a house party. Karen was incensed, and Harvey decided not to tell her that the couple had actually mailed out not only notices to the neighborhood that the party would be coming, but invites also.

“Ghastly,” Karen said, looking at the majority non-white partygoers while the loud hip hop and rap blared in the background. “I bet they’re all on drugs. How did they even get this party? Surely this is a violation of the HOA?”

Again, Harvey decided not to tell her that they had actually gotten approval despite he and his buddy’s vote against. It was all above board.

“No idea,” he lied, “but I’m heading over right now to shut this down.”

“Good,” Karen said. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m calling the police and I won’t stop talking until I’m on the phone with the chief.”

Harvey doubted she could achieve such a thing, so instead he grabbed his coat and stepped outside into the warm evening air, and strolled to the other side of the street. Several partygoers looked his way a little oddly, perhaps sensing his mood, most likely viewing him as not ‘hip’ or ‘cool’ or whatever kids thought these days. Harvey couldn’t stand street slang, and most of these kids - latinos, latinas, blacks and Asians - were using it. Many were scantily dressed, and to his shame his eyes lingered over one of the latinas, until she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Put some damn clothes on and have some decency,” he spat, even as he went red-faced. He stormed on up to the porch, trying to find the couple.

“Yo Harvey! How’s it goin’ man?”

Harvey turned, and saw that Deshawn was standing practically over him, wearing a casual white shirt and jeans, the gorgeous Yunique on his arm. He could barely hear them through the pulse of the music.

‘You don’t like my kind, you don’t like my race,

Still got that tight ass, still got that bomb face

Shit I don’t care watchu carry on bout me,

You know my looks are fire, I’m not your B’

“Mr Johnson,” Harvey replied.

“I’m sorry man, I can’t hear you, hang on!”

Deshawn grabbed a little device, one of those stupid gadgets those damned Millenials were obsessed with. The music went down a bit, accompanied by playful booing.

“I said that’s Mr Johnson to you.”

Deshawn took it in stride, but Yunique cringed.

“It’s great to have you here, Mr Johnson,” he said, giving a white-toothed smile. “We even got the Daniels, can you believe it?”

Harvey couldn’t. To his astonishment, the pair that were even older than him were fraternising with a young Mexican couple. He assumed they were Mexcian anyway. The sight disgusted him.

“Well, that’s their choice,” he said. “I’m just here to tell you that your lawn is too long. It’s a breach of the HOA requirements.”

Deshawn’s smile vanished. “Oh, okay man. Is that the kind of visit this is?”

“It is.”

“Well, I’ll mow it first thing in the morning. Not a problem, dude.”

“I’d like you to mow it now. Stop the party and get it sorted. It’s a breach, and it should have been sorted already.”

Deshawn was silent, regarding the older man. It made Harvey nervous. Yunique tore from her boyfriend’s arms and gestured wildly.

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?”

“Hey, Yunique, it’s alright okay, we’ll just -”

“Nu-uh, this ain’t alright at all, honey! Not this shit. I’ve had enough of this racist ass shit.”

“I am not racist, and watch your language!” Harvey snapped. Slowly, people were gathering around. Several of them were holding cell phones, ready to record. He knew he had to watch his language. He knew he wasn’t racist, but ever since that little slip of that forbidden word last year . . .

Yunique poked him in the chest. “I will watch my fucking language how I fucking damn want, thank you very much. Did your wife put you up to this? I see ya’ll staring at us, just because we’re different. I see the way you stare at me like a total perv!”

Harvey clenched his fists. “I will not be talked about this way in my own damn neighbourhood! You need to sort out your lawn, or I swear I’ll do my utmost to have you kicked out of this suburb!”

Deshawn stepped forward, crossing his arms. A number of members of the crowd were oohing and ahhing by this point, and now several phones were indeed out. Several voices called for calm, others for violence. The homeowner put them all in their place.

“Shut up, ya’ll. This ain’t gonna be a violent thing, okay? That’s what he wants. That’s how his type works. Isn’t it, Mr Johnson?” He gave the older man a hard stare, but didn’t step any further forward. “Now I’ve tried to be polite, and I’ve tried to be welcoming. I even made you white people brownies, and your wife made a crack about fucking KFC and watermelon, right in my face. Well, I’ve been coming up against racism like that my whole life, but I won’t have it on my doorstep.”

“My wife wasn’t being racist, she didn’t understand that -”

“Oh, she knew she was being racist,” Yunique pitched in. “She even called my hair - my fucking hair - a ‘slum do’, whatever the fuck that means!”

Her temper was fiery, and in a weird way, it turned Harvy on. He had to struggle not to look at her chest. Or her ass. God, he couldn’t help but love how big black women’s asses were. Karen’s was flat as a damned pancake.

“You get away from my husband!”

Harvey turned, and saw that Karen was crossing the street. She had her own phone out, and was shrieking at a high-pitched volume.

“You get away from him! We don’t allow thuggery in this neighborhood!”

“Then I guess you’ll both be going,” Deshawn said. “After all, we didn’t start nothing. It was all your husband here.”

“He did nothing of the sort.”

“Yes he did.” Deshawn looked back to Harvey, but made his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You both have been starting stuff ever since we arrived. Now I’ve been patient, and even had to hold back my gorgeous girl’s anger at times. She keeps telling me to just unload and let you know what’s what, but I thought you might come around. We’re both hardworking. We’re both educated. We’re both doing decently. Fuck man, I’m the boss of my own construction site, and Yunique’s a successful local artist. But even if we weren’t all that, even if we were just ‘from the hood’ as you like to say, then we would be worthy of some damned respect.”

The crowd gave a series of claps and applause. The couple were horrified to see the Daniels join in.
“You need to know your place, mister!” Karen called.

Harvey closed his eyes. Goddamnit, Karen, he thought. She had no understanding of the value of subtlety, or of regrouping. The crowd gasped, and someone shouted out.

“I got that on video! I got that on video! Racist bitch said the quiet part loud!”

Harvey stepped back, incensed. The crowd was already against him, and now it was actively hostile. No one was being violent, and that was the worst part; there was no way to regain the advantage. Instead they were simply booing him down, demanding he and his wife leave.

“You heard ‘em, get the fuck out of here,” Yunique said.

With one last snarl, Harvey left. Karen tried to argue, but he took her arm and practically dragged her back into the house. The closed the door behind them, and in moments, the music resumed.

‘You don’t scare me with your racist shit,

I can take the hit and hit and fucking hit,

Baby you don’t know what’s coming your way,

You gotta pay you gotta pay,

Your bitch white asses are on the line,

Soon you’ll get chocolate skin like mine.’

“What even is that disgusting music?” Karen spat.

“Don’t listen to it,” Harvey said. “You know dear, you made a fool out of me there. I had it handled.”

“It didn’t look like it. You were letting that repulsive beast tread all over you.”

He growled. “I was playing the long game. Demanding to see the manager wasn’t going to work here. Or calling the police.”

“Well,” she said, a little smugly, “I’m uploading this video to the internet. Soon everyone will see how terrible they are.”

Harvey coughed on the water he was imbibing. “You’re doing what?”

She gave him a confused look. “Uploading the video. Then everyone will see what utter trash we have for neighbours. The world will be on our side.”

Harvey gritted his teeth. God, his wife could be fucking stupid sometimes. This was going to be a nightmare.

“Shut it down,” he said.

“What? I can’t hear because of that terrible street trash they call music.”

“I said,” he spoke slowly, “pull the plug. We can’t upload the video. We’ll be in a river of shit.”

She looked confused, and her look only made Harvey angrier.

“But dear, my blog -”

“I don’t give a shit about your blog. Are you uploading right now?”

“It’s already uploaded.”

He smacked the table. “Fuck! Pull it, before anyone sees it!”

The music flared again, louder than before. Karen said something in response, her expression deeply stubborn, but Harvey couldn’t make out what she had said through the strange song that was echoing out into the neighborhood.

‘I said you gon have chocolate skin like mine,

Nice black skin - bitch you know it’s fine.’

Suddenly the two of them gasped. It was like they both experienced a whole body itch at once. Their skin writhed and rippled, and darkened.

“H-Harvey! Your skin! It’s changing!”

He looked in astonishment at his own arms, which were rapidly turning a chocolate skin colour. His wife was changing likewise.

“You as well!”

‘Big black muscles makes me so hot,

Let’s make sure that’s what you got,

A wet and ready pussy will take that right in,

Bitch you gonna love to sin.'

The changes continued as they stumbled into the living room, trying to reach a place in the house where it was easier to hear. It was like the music was following them, as if it were coming from inside the house somehow. Harvey gritted his teeth as his penis - never the mightiest specimen but still an essential part of his self-image - began to pull back into his body. He groaned, clutching his crotch and screaming in fury.

“No! No, no, what in the everliving fuck!”

Karen was experiencing the opposite. She squealed in her nasal pitch as something long and thick pushed out of her. Her panties stretched as an enormous package extended outwards, followed by a large set of balls. She unzipped her trousers and screeched at the sight of a big black dick - the biggest member she’d ever seen. And it was all hers.

“Harvey - oh God I have a cock Harvey! I have a black cock!”

‘Now you in your proper place

Let’s fix up some hot ass face

And speaking off ass let’s make yours big,

While he gets muscles she can dig!’

They both exchanged a look of horror. The song was reverberating not just from next door, and not just from within the room, but inside their minds as well. Harvey grabbed his ass, holding it in both hands as if it could possibly hold back the tide. Already, his pussy was finishing developing, and he was too frightened to explore that strangely empty space. But soon a pressure began, and accompanied by several agonised grunts his ass began to expand in full.

“Holy f-fuck! This isn’t right! What the hell is happening to us - NGHH!”

It inflated like a beachball, becoming rounded and peachy and soft; exactly the kind of ass he’d always fantasised his wife would have and then some. It strained his trousers, and he was forced to unbuckle them just to allow the space, which only made his absence of a penis even more obvious.

Karen stared at her husband’s ass in confusion, but then experienced her own shock; her meagre breasts melted back into her body while her muscled inflated. She strained, squirming against the living room table as her biceps expanded, her thighs rippled with muscle, her pectoral muscles and abdominal muscles swelled to become incredibly impressive.

“NNnnoooooo!” she moaned, and to her shock, her voice lowered several octaves, becoming that of a black male’s with a deep, baritone brass. Her face shifted, hair falling away until only a dark frizzy covering remained, her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace looking nothing like her now. Her nose broadened, lips thickened, and her jaw become square and manly.

Harvey moaned also, but his voice became increasingly feminine, almost sensual. No, definitely sensual. He felt his cheekbones become more prominent, his jaw soften, his hair begin to spiral out until it was patterned in a set of long black dreadlocks that hung down his back. In the mirror was a gorgeous Afro-Latina woman with long eyelashes and incredibly full and pouty lips. Her skin was flawless, a little lighter than Karen’s now.

“I’m a chick! I’m a fucking black chick!” he cried, his voice now a purring rasp.

‘Gon get you done up fine in what you wear

And make sure yo girl has a big titty pair,

Then you a real hip hop couple from the hood,

You’ll live that life no matter where you stood.’

“Stop this fucking insanity!” Karen screeched. “Is this the devil!? Is this Satan? What did we do to deserve this!”

“Shut up Karen!” Harvey snapped, but his voice no longer carried authority when compared with his wife’s low, commanding tone.

The two glared at one another, no longer recognisable to their partner, but soon they were overwhelmed by the final round of changes as the song built to its crescendo. Harvey gasped as his body shrank, his height slipping away. His shoulders pulled in a little painfully, and his hips flared out impossibly wide. His waist pulled in, internal organs shifting around and even accompanying a new one that bloomed into existence, causing him to whimper at the alien sensation.

Karen grunted, clenching her fists as her body grew, becoming even more muscular, her feminine figure becoming far more manly. Far more manly, even, than her husband when he had still been a man. Even her feet swelled, and soon she felt like a tall and powerful giant.

“Harvey, I’m huge! And you’re tiny!”

“I can tell, you idiot!”

“Don’t call me an idiot, when you’re becoming such a - such a bitch!”

Harvey was appalled, and yet oddly intimidated. His wife was so much bigger than him now. Moreover, there as a weird compulsion entering into his mind. A new kind of dynamic that he didn’t quite understand yet. Karen felt it also; her snappish words weren’t right, despite being par for course for them on an ugly day.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said, partly against her well.”

“That’s okay, honey, this shit happens,” Harvey replied. He clasped his hands over his mouth; even his accent had changed! He didn’t know how to think of it, other than it sounded like it was from the very ‘hood’ he made fun of. It had that sassy twang that turned him on as a man but Karen hated.

“I can’t stand mad at you,” Karen said, “‘specially when you got such a fine ass and such nice titties.”

They both shared another glance. Both of them realised they were on some sort of autopilot. But the word ‘titties’ had terrified Harvey. He looked down at his chest, where a pressure was forming. Sure enough his nipples swelled. He shuddered as his areola bloomed, followed by the flesh behind them. They stretched his male shirt, becoming larger and rounder and heavier, until he looked like he was smuggling cantaloupes. They looked to be Double-Ds in size, if not even bigger! They were brown and large and perfect, and it horrified him that they were hers.

His. She meant hers. His! She grabbed her head, trying to sort out her new pronouns, and Karen did the same. As they did so, their clothes altered and shifted just like the song foreshadowed. In mere moments, Harvey was wearing a midriff-baring black crop top and denim minishorts that hugged her ass, and Karen was wearing a tight black shirt that emphasised his muscles, and a set of loose jeans that was overly-casual. Hoop rings materialised in Harvey’s earlobes, as well as a painful bit of a tongue piercing, a belly piercing, and a tattoo of a love heart on above her right hip. Karen winced as a matching tattoo appeared on his left hip, and a single piercing in his left ear.

And then the changes were finished, and the new couple were christened by the final words of the song.

‘Nia you a sexy hip hop bitch,

And you a goddamn rapper Andre.

Oh you wanna turn back and switch?

Well too bad bitches time to pay!’

Nia and Andre. Their new names. They could feel it in their bones, and it was impossible to think of themselves otherwise. Still running on autopilot, the two bodies approached each other.

“You know Nia, this music is fucking chill.”

“You’re so right honey, it’s a banger.”

Their bodies grinned, arms around each other.

“Why don’t we go have some fun in the bedroom while listening to it, baby?” Nia said.

“Hell yeah. You gonna let me suck on those fine titties of yours?”

Nia gave him a sexy look. “Oh honey, you know it. I want to fucking cum from you sucking these fine tits.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

The two of them ran to the bedroom already stripping off their clothing, their gorgeous altered bodies already pressing against one another and producing alien sensations.

Inside, Harvey and Karen were screaming helplessly, trying and failing to regain control as their new transformed and transgendered bodies verged closer and closer to fucking one another. Neither could do anything to stop it.

The next song began to play.

To Be Continued . . .