New Music in the Hood, Part 5 (TG RC AR) (Patreon)

Hello everyone. I'm out of contact at the moment, but I've said this to release at it's usual timeslot. Hope you all 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.

First Part Here

Previous Part Here

New Music in the Hood, Part 5 (TG RC AR)

Over the week leading up to the concert performance Nia and Andre continued to try to fight their new roles, only to always lose. Whatever karmic injustice had been laid upon them made sure they were very sexually active, much to Nia’s disappointment. For Andre, as a former white woman in her later age, it was a very wrong experience to have a big black cock and hairy balls, and to feel the intense urge to plough his enormous dick deep into his former husband several times a day. But at least there was the satisfaction of control, of being dominant for once, and the power that came with being the penetrator. Male orgasms were powerful, and he couldn’t deny that there was something intoxicating about having a soft, supplicant body before him, receptive to all his demands.

Nia, on the other hand, had it worse, at least in her own mind. As Harvey, she had always been a traditionalist. A take-charge figure who had a seat of importance on the HOA board, and always took the lead and expected Karen to follow along, which she almost always did. He had believed men were above women - it said that in the Bible, didn’t it? - and that as the breadwinner throughout their marriage he was the one to make the big decisions.

But now, she was the submissive one. Each morning, to her horror, she woke with a deep hunger for his cock. She couldn’t help herself; she always woke aroused, her pussy moist from the sexual dreams she had of being ravished by her big black boyfriend. It was like she was turned into a parody of what she had assumed about sexy latinas and ‘breeder blacks’, as he had once quite racistly called them. Because no matter what, she couldn’t fight that terrible need to rub her backside slowly against her partner’s cock. After all, they always went to sleep with him spooning her, and the feeling of his massive member hardening between her cheeks drove her wild in a way that made her want to weep in despair. The longest she’d managed to hold out was thirty minutes as he snored against her, but in the end she had to extricate herself and begin stroking his shaft with her soft fingers, teasing his hairy balls. God, he had fantastic balls. It was all wrong to think so, but when she was horny as hell it was impossible to think straight.

And so Andre would wake, aghast that once again his former husband was between his legs, slowly working his semi-erect to a raging, throbbing boner as she licked it lovingly.

“OOHhh - N-Nia. We got to fight this, woman. It’s so s-sinful.”

“I know,” Nia murmured between licks of his penis head. “But I c-can’t help myself. It’s all f-fucked! I need you to cum down my throat. You have to s-stop this Andre!”

But Andre couldn’t. Instead, as if puppeteered, his hand went down to push her mouth further down on his cock, practically deep throating her, and soon the two were simply moaning and gasping as she gave him another beautiful blowjob. She rubbed his shaft perfectly, and try as he might, he was unable to do anything but grip her hair, working with her motions and ensuring that he was practically ramming his member down her throat.

“It’s - all - w-wrong!!!!” he shouted, but then he tensed, and his balls squeezed what felt like gallons of semen out of his testes and out of his penis, sending streams of warm cum down Nia’s throat.

The former male wanted to gag and cry out. Wanted to rage and destroy the world. She felt utterly humiliated every time she did it, but no matter what, she always swallowed his seed, moaning in a miniature orgasm as she pleased her man, before licking him dry of every last drop.

“That was fucking awesome, baby,” she said afterwards one morning. “I just love how much you cum when I suck your big cock off. Giving me all that protein, baby.”

“We have stop this,” Andre wheezed in response, still floppy from receiving the blowjob. “We have to make sure I cum in your tight pussy next time. After all, we gotta start a family some time, baby.”

Neither of them wanted to mention or discuss what that particular statement might mean. All they could do was use their brief moments of regained control to ensure there was plenty of contraception available, because as much as Nia feared and hated being a sexy black woman who was addicted to being fucked, the notion of being pregnant was all the more terrifying. Andre too felt it would be the ultimate sin. Already they were indulging in sinful positions - anal, blowjobs, even going down on Nia several times - and the thought of someone who was meant to be a man being gifted with the miracle of life and childbirth . . . it was unholy!

But still the sex continued, in numerous positions. Nia was evidently a woman with a hefty creativity when it came to sexual prowess, and it almost rendered the former male catatonic in shame when she was forced to do a sexy striptease for Andre while he sat in a chair before her, until she ultimately gave him an enticing lap dance that ended with her facing him on the chair, riding his dick while he sucked on her huge, soft tits. She orgasmed harder than she ever had before during that particular act, and for the next hour the male Harvey inside her was stunned silent, refusing to speak except for the robotic Nia lines that occurred automatically. She wished the sex was painful, because feeling so much pleasure just made it all the more shameful, particularly since she couldn’t stop looking at how strong and sexy and powerful Andre was.

They didn’t just fuck in the bedroom either. Almost any room was fair game, and in their backyard they even had some frisky fun. Harvey and Karen were very proud of their backyard hot tub, though they would never have descended to the sheer scandal of having sex in it. Not so for Andre and Nia. The former soon found himself naked in it, while Nia wore a tight revealing pink bikini and large sunglasses that made her look like a slut - at least to both their bigoted, judgemental minds. Certainly her form made Andre hard, because he drove her to crying out much too loudly in pleasure as he fingered her pussy in the tub, and she returned the favour by giving him a deeply passionate titty job.

These acts continued over and over again across the week, and the worst part for the two of them was how accustomed they were growing to their bodies. Sometimes the puppeteering and compulsions would stop mid-thrust, only for the two of them to keep bucking their hips, too overcome with arousal and need. Other times, one of them would regain control, but simply fail to fight off the other, as they were so close to orgasm already. Nia even found herself crying out willingly when she came, and a reluctant part of her even looked forward to having Andre’s warm cum inside her. Andre felt the same way, but similarly said nothing.

After all, they were too trapped in their own shame and judgemental natures to own up to their increasingly real passions, and the fact that they dressed in revealing clothing - singlets that revealed Andre’s muscles, crop tops that revealed Nia’s big bust and flat stomach - only made them hate their new selves more.

“It’s not right,” Nia cried as once again Andre began to stroke and squeeze her tits from behind, “but I can’t stop wanting it!”

“I know, dear! I promise I don’t want to do this to you. I don’t want to be a terribly sexy black man with a big cock. But I love parting your pussy walls with it too much!”

And so it continued, again and again for a full seven days.

***

Both of them had tried to contact their children, Kevin and Maggie, but neither recognised their voices. To their memory, the real Harvey and Karen Johnson had died years and years ago in a car crash that thankfully took no other lives. Their son spared no words to describe them, in a manner that shocked them both.

“I wasn’t close to my father, he was a sexist ape who only cared about himself. And my mother was even worse. A self-righteous shrew who used her Bible to thump everyone around her, all while being the most intolerant person next to Dad. May they rest in hell.”

“You - you don’t mean that, right?” Andre said on the phone, wrenching it from Nia. They had quickly adapted to the cover story of trying to find out about the previous occupants for a repair issue when it was apparent that they would be unable to claim they were who they really were. But they didn’t expect to be chewed out by their own son.

“Of course I fucking do. Trust me, they would have hated you guys. You’re black right? That’s kinda stereotypical of me, but I can kinda catch it in your voice.”

“Yeah,” a stunned Andre muttered. “I’m black. So’s my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s just a wonderful irony then. They die, and the house is occupied by the very people they would have hated, no offence. Seriously, I’m glad about this. I’m sorry I can’t help you with details on the house repairs, but Dad usually kept it in good shape. I’m not sure who owned it between them and you guys, but best of luck with it. Glad the neighbourhood is a lot nicer and more diverse now.”

“Y-yeah.”

“So what do you guys even do, anyway?”

“We’re musicians,” Nia cut in. She hadn’t wanted to say musicians, of course, but it was what escaped. Andre shot her a look, but then confirmed the same.

“Yeah, we’re hip hop artists. Trying to take off, in fact. We’re singing and playing at the Ansen Rock Concert this coming Saturday.”

“No shit! That’s fucking awesome. I might even come along and see - my wife and I are big hip hop fans. Never told the parents though, I can tell you that!‘

“We’d love to see you there,” Nia said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Totally,” Andre said automatically. “It’ll be a hell of a performance. It’d be great to see you guys.”

“Sure thing. Nice to see some new music in the neighbourhood, huh?”

“More like new music in the hood,” Nia said on speaker. She cringed. She had most certainly wanted to insult her apparent new style of music, but clearly that was impossible too.

“Well, you guys have a great one!”

The two of them slumped at the kitchen counter where they’d had the call together.

“I can’t believe he’d be that entitled and awful to us,” Andre said. “Did you hear what he called me? He said I was a shrew! A Bible-thumper!”

Nia didn’t want to say the truth, which was that Karen was exactly that. But the comments about her being power-hungry, and racist and intolerant.

“It was too much. Ungrateful,” she said. “I wasn’t racist, just cautious! You know these types, the types this stupid curse or whatever has made us. They can’t be trusted!”

“Well, you did want to get them kicked out of their homes.”

“We both did, Andre. You asked me to, in fact!”

“And I don’t regret that! They’re not even helping us!”

They shared an awkward glance. Both of them knew why Deshawn and Yunique weren’t helping them. After all, they had been not only uninviting, but actively hostile to their new neighbours, culminating in the party incident. And now they had new black bodies, new genders, new lives to pay for it.

“We’ve got to get them round to our side, somehow,” Nia said.

“Yes, and then turn them out of home once we’re back, just like you planned, baby.”

“And after that, make some things very clear with our kids and the inheritance, too.”

They exchanged a brief grin, only to both glance away again. Nia’s gaze had fallen to Andre’s muscles, and his gaze had rested upon her very blessed chest.

“Think pure thoughts, dear,” Andre said. “Think pure thoughts.”

But it was too late. Nia’s nipples were already throbbing with need, her pussy becoming wet, and Andre’s cock was already hardening.

Just a few minutes later they were on the floor, Nia’s legs around her boyfriend’s strong waist as he fucked her without a condom.

“You. Better. Not. Get. Me. Knocked. Up!” she cried.

***

Music practice continued over at Deshawn and Yunique’s house. The two neighbours were clearly savouring the situation with Nia and Andre, and Yunique in particular was happy to comment on it when their friend Monica was out of earshot.

“Oh my Gawed, Nia, that top is just too sexy, girl! You are seriously working it!”

Nia couldn’t help but give a big grin, even as she was dying inside.

“Thanks so much, Yunique, I literally couldn’t help but wear it.”

The other woman grinned. “Oh, don’t I know. But seriously, whatever curse made you this way certainly made you know how to show off your sexy bod. Those fine double-Ds are well on display, and the tips of the bra and the straps being shown off are a great touch. And with an ass like that, those short shorts that hug those cheeks tight are just delicious! Seriously, you have no idea how funny this is to me.”

“Oh, I have some idea,” Nia said. “This is how you all like dressing, isn’t it? Scandalous and revealing? Showing off your bodies like - like hot sexy babes.”

She giggled. “Imma gonna assume that’s the curse speaking on that last part, and you were gonna say something hella racist or sexist or both instead. Still, I bet it must be pretty damn embarrassing to not only have a pussy and tits, but also have to show them off all the time, huh?”

Nia fumed. She placed her hands on her hips - unintentionally emphasising her curves with her posture - and pouted a little sexily. “It’s not fair. You gotta turn us back. Please, I believe you said you weren’t behind this, but if you can help us-”

“And what? Get evicted thanks to your rules? Your ‘wife’ already spilled the beans on that. How is she by the way? Is she enjoying her big black dick? Are you enjoying it too?”

Nia blushed. Even on her dark skin, her embarrassment was evident, because Yunique giggled again.

“I knew I heard you two the other morning when I was on my run! I bet it feels nice, doesn’t it, having a big black cock ramming up your wet pussy? I know I love it from Deshawn, but you must love and hate it at the same time, just like Andre does, I bet.”

“Oh, I’m just so addicted to it,” Nia said, before she could stop herself.

Deshawn, on the other hand, was not nearly as taunting to Andre, instead torturing him another way: accidentally. Whereas Yunique was all fire and passion, and certainly unwilling to forgive or forget Harvey or Karen’s slights, he on the other hand was occasionally trying to ease Andre into his new life. He would give him advice on matters of dress and sex, how to act like a proper man, what ladies respected, and how to keep his muscles “looking fine and mighty.”

It wasn’t clear to Andre how much of what Deshawn was saying was in jest and how much was serious. It was clear the man was having a lot of fun introducing the former middle-aged woman to being, in his words, “a strong, virile black brother.” But unlike Yunique, he seemed to be less malicious in it, and more teasing. He hated his condescension, the way he gave all sorts of unseemly sexual advice.

“And when she orgasms, you make sure to squeeze that ass tight, ya’ll understand? You will not believe how much harder she comes. And the harder she comes, the tight she is on that new big dick of yours, right? Trust me, you’re in for a hell of a ride when you try it.”

It was humiliating for him. As a woman, he’d always been fearful and disgusted by African-American men, finding them repugnant in looks and violent. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that his former husband had been attracted to darker skinned girls, but as a loyal wife she had always taken it as just a red-blooded male thing. But now he was a red-blooded male. A powerful, dark-skinned one. And it was getting harder and harder to deny the pleasure, the power that came with being a man. More than once he had caught himself flexing in front of the mirror, or admiring the girth and length of his manhood, or even getting lost in the lyrics as he rapped. Even his voice, which was a low, powerful baritone, made him feel strong. The same kind of voice he had once fled from and viewed as ‘uncouth’ when he’d been female.

“Yeah man, trust me, there are perks to being a black dude. But some downsides too, and a lot of them you’ll just have to learn to put up with, trust.”

“Downsides?” he asked. “I’m meant to be a woman! I’m meant to be K-K-K . . . you know who I mean! I ain’t meant to have a dick at all!”

Deshawn just smiled. “Yeah, but from what Yunique tells me from what she overheard on her morning jog, you were having plenty of fun using it in your backyard. Probably in the bedroom too, right?”

Andre felt that rush again, that surge of testosterone that made him want to fight. He pushed against it: after all, he’d begun to learn that he couldn’t just be angry at anyone now and not expect to take abuse back.

“Yeah,” Deshawn said, “that’s what I thought. But seriously, good for you. After all your racism, maybe becoming a black man is what you needed. And with all of Harvey’s power tripping, maybe becoming a sexy mixed race chick will give him perspective. The both of you, upsides and downsides.”

And with that, Monica arrived back, and rehearsal started. Nia and Andre sighed as the puppeteering magic took over, controlling their forms once more. Soon Andre was rapping, Nia shaking her ass as she sang to her man. The two were becoming more used to the profanity and themes of hip hop, and to their shared horror they were even starting to find a nice rhythm to its tune.

***

The downsides were clear, and both Nia and Andre soon learned exactly what Deshawn was referring to, especially Andre. Both of them had lives outside their music-making and their constant sex. They had jobs as well, as it turned out, and not ones they well appreciated. Both were very happy in retirement, having pulled themselves up by their bootstraps (with only a small hand-me-down of a few tens of thousands from their respective parents, and then a sizable inheritance on Harvey’s side, of course, but that shouldn’t count in their opinions). As such, the notion of going back to work was very much not appreciated.

Andre, predictably given his powerful body type, was actually a fitness instructor working at the local gym. The former woman was startled to enter ‘puppet mode’, being only able to passively experience his body helping others reach their physical peak, showing them how to use the machines, crafting plans for them. It made him realise just how much effort and artistry went into maintaining such a form: he had foolishly assumed most men like him were brutes who simply were ‘made that way.’ It was the most hard work Karen had ever done in her/his life: she’d gotten married young, and had believed in the ‘breadwinner husband and housewife’ tradition. Now that he was a man, it was working against him.

Nia on the other hand, worked as a grocery store clerk. It was a much more working class job than Harvey had ever experienced, and all the more demeaning because she was now an incredibly attractive woman. Even the modest outfit she wore for serving customers still conformed to her body shape enough for everyone to know she had an impressive figure . . . especially around her hips and rear. She knew this, because already she had put up with a number of disgusting comments, ranging from the flirty and perverted, to the racist and harrassing.

“Nice ass, checkout chick!” one white man called as he took away his load.

“Man, you should work at Hooters, if you know what I mean,” said another.

One awful old Caucasian man looked her up and down and with a sneer simply said, “I think I’ll take another check out thanks. I didn’t realise this store’s standards were so . . . street level.”

It made Nia feel a white hot rage, especially when others insinuated she was stupid, and another woman in her late thirties with bleach-blonde hair and too much lipstick implied she had ‘ugly features’. It didn’t take a genius to know what she was referring to there.

Another man had even quickly grabbed her ass as she passed, but she gave him a piece of her mind.

“It’s not goddamn fair,” she whined, “I’m doing the same hard work as anyone, but they treat me like an idiot. Or a piece of ass. Or they’re just plain . . . “

“Racist,” Andre finished, as they sat at home. He too had experienced a disgusting interaction, this one with a police officer. As Karen Johnson, he had always enjoyed the company of local cop Darrel Hardworth. He was a good friend of Harvey’s, and perfectly civil with them. He shared a lot of their traditionalist values. Which was why it was quite a terrible shock when, while out for a run (something he was compelled to do and surprisingly found enjoyable) Darrel ran the siren as he passed, pulled over, and then pulled something else.

His gun.

It was the most terrifying experience of Andre’s life, even more than being changed. Staring down the barrel of a gun, being screamed out to stay silent, and hold up his hands and say nothing, all while dealing with contradictory orders.

“DON’T MOVE AND PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!”

“Which one do you want me to do, man?”

“I SAID DON’T MOVE! SHOW US YOUR HANDS! GET ON THE GROUND!”

Andre had nearly been reduced to tears as Darrel came over, checked him, prodded him, searched him. Then, without an apology, simply looked him in the eye dismissively and said, “you don’t look like you belong round these parts. Maybe you should run elsewhere, boy.”

It was the same day that Nia was followed into the parking lot as she left her work, and catcalled repeatedly.

“Hey sexy girl! I like black girls! Wanna come see how much I like ‘em! Show me your titties! If you show me your titties I’ll leave you alone!”

It was Nia’s most terrifying experience. As a man, she’d led a life of privilege, but even when she’d felt threatened as a man, others had always stood in to protect her. As her eyes searched around for anyone to speak against this man, she saw not one or two but three different strong men who could have intervened and did nothing to help her. They were all white. It was only when a man of Hispanic descent stepped in to help her and practically shoved her harasser away that she felt safe again.

“Um, thanks for that. I - I didn’t know what to do.”

The man just gave her a smile. “Hey, we gotta stick together, right?”

She knew exactly the ‘who’ they were sticking together again, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. It certainly didn’t make her feel good about her former self. In fact, it conjured a number of times she’d seen a similar scenario play out as Harvey, and she’d done nothing to help the woman being victimised. In fact, she was certain she’d blamed them.

The two comforted each other in their home, unbelieving what they’d experienced, and yet unwilling to talk about it too deeply. Both situations were like axeheads driven deep into their former privilege, into their former ways of thinking. Addressing it just yet was too painful, or simply too humiliating.

That night when they went to sleep, they didn’t have sex for the first time. Instead they simply held each other. And in many ways, it was a more loving embrace, a more compassionate one, than they’d actually had in all their former years of marriage.

As she drifted off to sleep, Nia actually realised she was looking forward to Deshaw and Yunique’s party tomorrow, even if it signalled a practice performance for their concert the next day. At least it would bring some levity.

To Be Continued . . .