New Music in the Hood, Part 4 (TG RC AR) (Patreon)

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. 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).

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New Music in the Hood, Part 4

For the next several hours, their bodies took over. Andre and Nia were helpless but to sing and dance, reciting the lines for their apparent band with ease. Andre in particular was disgusted by his role, trying to avoid slinging what he perceived to be horrid slurs and ghastly language, including a couple of what he would have terms, back when he was Karen, as ‘F-bombs.’ Nia, for her part, was repulsed to learn that as the accompanying singer, she was expected to get ‘right into the vibe’ and shake her booty for the imaginary crowd. After all, Deshawn and Yunique and their fellow member Monica had real ambitions of becoming a genuine hip hop band.

And now, thanks to them, now Andre and Nia were wrapped up in it too. They continued to exchange horrified glances, their expressions those of a flirty, loving young black couple, but their eyes telling a different story. They were puppets once again, dancing on the strings of some malevolent curse that was forcing them to play their new roles. Andre spat lyrics with an alacrity that his inner Karen would have thought impossible, contorting and twisting words into rhymes that were incredibly creative, even if it was through an accent and musical approach he had never appreciated. It was all about force, about power and manhood, about finding the right woman and treating her:

“Like a woman needs to be pleased and to be seen if you please if you see and know you can show a good time ‘cause she fine with that ass and those hips and the lips you wanna kiss and jiggle when she shakes what it takes to take your mind!”

He was astonished the words were leaping so quickly from his mouth, and the blatant, raw sexuality of them. As Karen, he had always been quite reserved with sex, turning it down quite often, and viewing open displays of it to be an act of degeneracy. And now, she was preaching it in rap verses with more power and divinity than the woman that spoke in tongues in church last week.

The lyrics infected Nia’s body. The former male gyrated her hips, shaking her fine ass. It wobbled in her tight clothing, and she stuck it out against Andre’s crotch, humiliated that her new female body was act so aggressively sexual. She thrust out her Double-D cups, letting them wobble deliberately with each shoulder shake, and as she danced, she seemed to pose her body in such a way that if there was an audience, they would think she was initiating some sort of mating call.

“Babe, you gotta be there for me! You gotta get strong for me! You want to feel this bod? You wanna grab this ass? Then go touch grass, ya’ll! I need a man who’ll please me the way a woman should be pleased ; who’ll lick and suck and fuck me in all the right places. Then I’ll shake what it takes to take your mind!”

That was the name of their song, apparently: Shake What It Takes (To Take Your Mind). It was full of lyrics like that, an odd mix of romantic (“I want man who’ll stand on his own, cause a man who stands alone can stan this queen!”) to incredibly sexual (“Yours tits so fine, your ass so fine, you shake them both I lose my mind”).

It went on and on, with that just being one song among many. Monica came around to them, clearly believing they had simply been stoned prior to the beginning of their music, and it infuriated the former white couple that they were presumed ‘druggies’ in their mind. But still, they played and sang. Monica rocked the drums, while Deshawn worked the keyboard. Yunique, with her own gorgeous appearance, sang lead on some songs, back up in others. Her and Deshawn were clearly having the time of their lives, letting their former white neighbours soak in karmic justice. They continued to make a number of comments that clearly implied as much, particularly the more vindictive Yunique.

“Lovely black sound you got there Nia. When we take off, the guys are gonna go wild for that big brown ass of yours. And those tits!”

“Good work on the lyrics,” Deshawn said to Andre. “You really conveyed the soul of hip hop there. The genuine black experience, ya know?”

All Nia and Andre could do was show a false sense of approval to their statements, even an energetic agreement from Nia in particular. Harvey’s new personality overlay was ludicrously showy, happy to let her chest wobble about as she danced, and being generally far too outward and outspoken for a woman, in her male opinion. But it wasn’t like they had any choice: they had lost all control again, and were as much lost in their roles as they were in the thrum of the music and their gyrating bodies.

Finally, after several hours, it was over. Monica had to go first. The Asian rocker hung up her drumsticks and cracked a smile at the two of them.

“Glad you two weird love birds came out of that stupor. That must have been some fucking mad strong weed you two were smoking. Or something more powerful.”

Nia and Andre felt some control return, but both recognised the need for caution.

“Yeah,” Nia said. “It was . . . uh, some mad bangin’ stuff. Er, ya’ll.”

Monica just laughed, giving a shrug to Yunique and Deshawn.

“Good luck with these two when they’re not singing. Whatever they’re on, I’d like to try some of it, ha! See ya’ll around.”

She took off up the stairs to head off, leaving only the neighbours remaining. Nia and Andre were stuck for words, but the newly male of the two felt the pump of testosterone, and so acted first.

“Turn us back, or . . . or else!”

Deshawn and his partner laughed. “Or else what? You’ll put the beat on me? I thought you were a nice, civilised woman who looked down on us ‘hood types’ for doing that? Not that I’ve ever been in a fight where I wasn’t just defending myself or someone I cared for.”

“But you two,” Yunique continued, barrelling forth in such a way that the much larger Andre reeled back, intimidated by the woman’s manner. “You two fight for no reason, ain’t that right? You sling insults, trash us just because - what? We’re black? We don’t share your culture? Fabric of the country is made of different cultures, but you just want everything white, don’t you? White picket fence. White panel walls. White folk with old white hair and white sentiments and white-makes-right mentality, ain’t that so?”

“Bullshit!” Nia said. “We ain’t - I mean, aren’t racist. We’re just - all that music you played-”

“Half the fucking neighborhood turns up to celebrate our music!” Deshawn interjected. “It’s you two who always complained. You two who called the police on us, claiming we were selling crack. I ain’t touched anything worse than a bong in my life, and I got nothing on Monica when it come to that shit. I just like my Friday relax. We’re straight edge hop, man! Woman, whatever.”

Yunique continued. “You straight edge honey, I liked a good shot from the bar now and then. But even if we were weed-smoking, cigar chomping, whiskey-downing, orgy-running, what business is it of yours?”

“We have a right to know as neighbours,” Andre said, in that stiff voice he’d adopted as Karen. It sounded ridiculous coming from his strong, black male body.

“You have no right to know what doesn’t concern you! We was just being good folk to our neighbourhood, trying to make the American Dream and be successful, like all folks do. It’s your prejudice and your bigotry and hate that got you into this. I don’t know what cursed you, but maybe the universe finally called in some much-needed karma.”

Nia panicked. Her large chest wobbled in her tight top as she tried to absorb what was happening. As usual, her wife - well, her husband now - was tearing it all down. Wait, he wasn’t even her husband now, was he? They had different last names! She shook that concern away and tried to regain the situation.

“Please,” she begged, eyes wide, “we’re sorry, okay? We won’t bother ya’ll - I mean you - ever again, if you just help us turn back.”

“We don’t know how this happened,” Deshawn said.

“Even if you don’t, just to help us. We can’t control ourselves. Just then . . . just then I was forced to shake my damn ass, and these ridiculous tits! And I could feel Andre getting hard against me - we had sex this morning! It’s like we have these compulsions, and sometimes something else takes control.”

Deshawn gave a sympathetic look, and for a moment Nia Costa was hopeful she might still escape her body. But then Andre ruined it.

“If you don’t, my girlfriend - I mean, my baby - agh! You know what I mean. If you don’t help us, Nia here will use the Home Owner’s Association to force the sale of your home. We know the bylaws up and down.”

Nia cringed. In that moment, she hated Andre. When he’d been a woman, she’d always let her anger fly out, failing to use it smartly. He’d planned to use that bylaw after they’d changed back, but because she’d said it, now Deshawn stepped back to let Yunique take the lead in the conversation. It was not a good sign.

“Is that so?” she said, eyes creased in suspicion. Suspicion, and a dark look of victory. “Well, in that case, maybe ya’ll should stay like this for a bit. After all, how could we look you go, with those looks and those pipes? Ya’ll will help catapult us at the concert, isn’t that right, babe?”

“I’d say so,” Deshawn said, folding his arms. “Why don’t you two head home. We’ll talk again soon. Maybe have some sex again to relax. I know that’s what Yunique and I are going to do.”

The other black woman grinned maliciously, sending a chill down both of their spines. She stepped up to Andre, once again intimidating the much larger transformed female.

“And if you two do the nasty, then can I recommend taking your lovely Nia from behind, right up that fine, fine ass of hers. I know white folks like you two used to be are all antsy about that sort of thing. Too sinful, or something. But maybe whatever divine force that transformed you both will make you act it out anyway, just for kicks.”

“We would never-”

“Buh-bye now, you two. See you tomorrow for practice, and every day after.”

“Oh, and don’t forget,” Deshawn said, as the two of them were puppeteered once more to walk back up the stairs. “We’re having a party next Friday. I think you two will love dancing to the music. It’ll fit your new tastes.”

Neither Nia or Andre could do anything. Their bodies smiled, waved goodbye, and headed home.

Already, the two of them were feeling highly aroused against their wills.

***

Nia cried out, initially in pain, and then in surprising pleasure. It was all wrong. Bad enough that she’d been fucked in her new pussy by Andre’s huge black dick. Bad enough that she’d gone on to give a long blowjob to that same big black dick. But now She was bent over the kitchen table, crying out in a low, sensual tone as that same dick ploughed her again, this time right up her ass.

“F-fuuuuuuck! Oh God, it’s n-not right! But don’t s-stop honey! I want you to cum right up my big, perfect ass.

She couldn’t help but say the words, and in a sultry, aroused tone too. Andre was similarly forced to go along with it. The prospect of committing such a sinful, foul sexual act as this was anathema to him, and yet his new and huge manhood hungered for it. His erection was so hard that it practically throbbed and pulsed, his big balls itching to shoot their loud. He had reluctantly enjoyed sucking on his former husband, now girlfriend’s tits, but now she was bent over, her huge ass pressed up against him. The feeling of her wide, soft hips was incredible, and though he wanted to stop there was a growing part of him that wanted anything but - the sensation of thrusting his hard cock into her was too good!

“F-fuck! Nia, it feels so good. I don’t understand. I just love fucking you in the ass, baby. Your hips are just made for it!”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it wasn’t wrong either. Her wide hips and round backside made for perfect fucking, her soft bottom bouncing against his own hips as he thrusted. Nia couldn’t believe it. She had never imagined putting her dick anyway near Karen’s as a husband. No, that wasn’t true. It was, in fact, one of her fetishes as a man, but one she knew was pointless with her wife. But to experience it herself was something she truly never thought of. Andre’s dick felt huge in her, even bigger than it had been in her new pussy. She shook with anger at the thought that Yunique and Deshawn had somehow set this new sex act in motion, but then she trembled in pleasure, grunting and growing as her breasts slid against the kitchen table.

“Ohohhhhh,” she moaned. “It’s s-so big! You’re fucking me right up the ass, honey. It feels too good. You need to stop going so slow and thrust even harder!”

Andre obeyed, the two of them locked into their new roles. He thrust just as she said, sending the two of them to ever greater heights. He couldn’t help but revel in her weaker state, her softness and submissiveness. Whereas he had once been the one that had to be talked into sex, now he was utterly dominant and thirsting for it. He thrust again, and she bucked madly against him, like an animal in heat. The sight of his former husband’s incredibly rear, the feel of his childbearing hips, was just too much.

“I’m going to c-cum again!” he cried. “I’m going to cum right up your magnificent ass!”

“Don’t stop, honey! I want you cum in me! I want you to cum too! I want to cum just from you fucking me in the ass!”

The words were too hot, her dirty talk vile to his original Karen mind, and yet far too enticing to resist. He came, shooting yet another spurt of sperm right into her, this time in her ass. She wailed in pleasure as his balls throbbed again, his dick ejaculating several more times. Nia was overwhelmed: how could something so wrong be so damn right? She’d mocked couples that did this, once. Called it something only ‘degenerates’ did. Now she felt degenerate, in the best possible way.

“AAAIEIEEE!! NNGGHHH!!! OOHHHH YES YES YES YESSSS!!”

She orgasmed, hard. She’d never felt anything like it before. It was even more alien, in some ways, than having a dick in her new pussy. It was taboo and wrong, and that made it feel all the more right.

After the two of them cleaned up, they snuggled up in bed together, facing one another, their legs intertwined. Andre had a hand over her rondure hip and ass, and another resting on her soft yet rounded chest. She in turn cradled his powerful shoulder muscles, trying not to get turned on again. They could help but be coiled up together: whatever curse was upon them wouldn’t let them part.

“What on earth are we going to do?” Andre asked weakly. He felt wrong, placing his larger, stronger hands around the softness of his former husband. He didn’t want to feel engorged at the sight of her, but she was perfectly curvaceous. Once, he had mocked and insulted ‘whores’ that looked like Nia. Now, he found them intoxicatingly attractive, against his better (or worse) judgement. Her Afro-Latina features did not disgust, but rather entice.

Nia looked up into his handsome, manly face. He was powerful, and she couldn’t see him as Karen. No, barely at all. Instead, this was the man, the boyfriend who had thrust into her body in several ways, played with her generous tits, and cummed in her after the most passionate fucking of their entire lives. It made her hate herself, to have become the submissive one, and yet in his arms she felt oddly comfortable.

Both of them hated this dichotomy.

“I don’t know,” Nia finally answered. “But I refuse to stay like this K-K-Andre. I am not going to be some dark-skinned bimbo for the rest of my life, or end up in front of some stage shaking this ridiculous big ass. We need to find a way to get out of this. We need to get back into our bodies before that concert in a week’s time.”

“Agreed, honey,” Andre said. “I am appalled at having to live as a black man! It’s horrible!”

But his penis told another story. Nia’s skin and shapely features were too gorgeous, and he was getting hard already. That, of course, meant Nia was beginning to become flushed with heat as well.

“Oh God, no. Fight it, Andre.”

“I can’t. I can’t fight it.”

Nia found herself puppeteered again. To her horror, her body lowered itself beneath the sheets as Andre turned over. Soon, her face was hovering over his crotch, and she was licking her lips in horrid anticipation.

“We have to! We have to fight - Mmmhph!!”

And soon the two were moaning again, as Nia began to deepthroat Andre’s huge cock, the two of them trapped in horror and pleasure.

They’d have to start fighting it in the morning.

To Be Continued . . .