New Music in the Hood, Part 6 (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.

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New Music in the Hood, Part 6 (TG RC AR)

Nia woke Andre with a blowjob. She hadn’t wanted to, especially after the events of the previous few days, but it seemed her body was back in full swing. She woke up earlier than her boyfriend, incredibly horny, and with a deep-seated need to suck his cock. This time, instead of letting him blow his load down her throat, they instead changed positions. Andre was grateful - even as wonderful as it was to receive them, giving head was far too sinful in his mind! - but soon Nia was riding him and giving him a great look at her bouncing Double-D’s, groaning every time he touched them. The two climaxed together, as it seemed they were destined to always do, and Nia pressed her boyfriend’s face into her breasts. The last part was a cruel joke: it was a coital position she’d always wanted to try when she was a younger Harvey, but Karen had always vetoed it. It made her resent the woman’s current form as Andre all the more: the best sex Karen/Andre would ever have and he was trying to categorise it as a constant sin! The man didn’t know how lucky he was! Thank goodness at least that she got multiple orgasms out of the deal, but it wasn’t enough to stem the humiliation of sucking cock.

Afterwards, the two got dressed, both of them miserable.

“Is this gonna be everyday, then?” Nia asked. “Me going down on your big black cock and swallowing your cum?”

Andre shrugged. “I guess, unless we turn back somehow.”

Nia groaned in annoyance. “It’s not fair! At least go down on me sometime!”

It was a genuine frustration. If she truly had to put up with being a sexy woman of colour, why couldn’t she at least experience that joy more often?

Andre felt the puppeteers strings come over him. “That’s a terrible act. You never did that to me even when you asked, because it’s sinful. Which is why I’m totally gonna eat you out tomorrow morning, babe. Just you wait.”

Nia raised an eyebrow, but she too was controlled by the next compulsion.

“Thank God, bae. I’ve been needing your perfect tongue on my throbbing clit. I’ll make a noise just for you, honey.”

Another weary sigh for both of them, and they got dressed for the day. Another day of final practice for the day to come, another day of having to put up with Yunique’s smirks and Deshawn’s little bits of manly advice. Another day of pretending to have to be Monica’s friend. Another day of being taught some cosmic lesson that neither believed they fully deserved, but were finally beginning, at least, to appreciate the reasons for.

***

The party was on, and Nia and Andre crossed the street to Yunique and Deshawn’s place. Already the music was blaring, far too loud for Andre’s old tastes, but clearly good enough for his new body, as he couldn’t help but do a little jiggle as he drew closer. Nia did so with him. She didn’t like hip hop - at least she kept saying she didn’t, despite increasingly being sort of captivated by it - but she was compelled to do a joking shake of her ass in time to a particular beat as she approached.

It was 6:30pm, and to the surprise of both former WASPs, they were actually sort of relieved to be able to go to someone else’s house, relax a little, and drink some alcohol. Stuck as they were in their bodies, with new company they would have been ashamed to keep in their white, racist forms, it was still better than being followed by the clerk at the supermarket for no reason, or the intensity of a full body workout at the gym as a fitness trainer . . . even if Andre was starting to understand a little the rush that came with a good workout.

There were dozens of people, both on the front lawn and in the house, and likely in the backyard as well. Hip hop music was playing, a fast rhythm with numerous words Andre would never have approved of in his previous life. Nia had never liked hip hop either, finding it degenerate, but even now, she found a nice swing to it.

‘Got them hips, got them thighs, and I know they tell no lies,

Girl you want it, I know you do, no drug can you a high,

Like I do, girl. Like I do.’

“Stop dancing!” Andre said. “We’re not even at the party yet!”

“I just fucking love this song!” Nia declared. The worst part was it was sort of true: she’d heard it so many times in the car on the way to and from her new work that she knew the lyrics backwards and forwards, and had been Stockholm Syndrome’d into liking it. Loving it, in fact.

“We can’t give in,” Nia,” Andre said. “We can fight this. I’m not going to have this big black dick you love so much forever. I’m going to be a proper woman again. One who lives a good, moral life.”

Nia laughed, causing Andre to swing his head down to her. She was dressed in a two piece outfit: a crop top that was more like a sports bra, and a set of denim short shorts that conformed to her wide hips and big ass. She was a sight that the male in his tank top and board shorts found utterly enticing, but his irritation was now evident.

“What the hell you mean by that, girl?”

“I mean that, and no offence dear, you were a condescending, gossipping, rumour-mongering witch of a woman.”

“I was not! How could you say that?”

“Honey, you used your self-righteousness as a hammer, and you know damn well you did. You practically chased a homeless woman out of church. C’mon!”

“That was a special case. She smelled awful!”

“Uh-huh. Look, I wasn’t perfect either. Okay, I was pretty bad. Neither of us deserve this, and the second we change back I’m going to evict these fuckers from their home. But for now, let’s not pretend we were angels. Maybe if we own up to it, we’ll change back.”

Andre raised an eyebrow. “Own up to it, huh? Like maybe you could own up to how much you love sucking this ridiculously huge big cock in the morning?”

Nia felt herself blush. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything. As a wife, Karen had been small-minded and petty, whereas he at least had wielded power in his pettiness she simply gossipped and spread foul stories. But he’d always been the man, and let her know her place. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and all she could take consolation from was that as Andre he was just as miserable. It was almost enough to give her an epiphany.

“What the fuck are we doing?” she said, still standing on the street, stopping before they entered the party.

“Going to a party, like we’re forced to.”

“No, I mean. Maybe . . . do they have a point? We were intolerant to them, and this is a punishment?”

Andre breathed deep. “No way. Not a chance. We were good, righteous people, and they infested and invaded our neighbourhood. They did this, or someone like them, with dark magic. I won’t be changing my mind just because of how terrible this is, and neither should you.”

Nia nodded sadly. “Yes, you’re right, dear. I’m forgetting myself. It’s this stupid female body. But . . . some of the ways we’re treated now . . .”

Both fell silent, knowing exactly what she meant. Neither were willing yet to see the other side, to form an empathy for those they hated, and once could treat in highly racist ways from a privileged standpoint. But small cracks were beginning to show. And as a partygoer gestured excitedly for them to join their company, the two were forced to march forward, with that armour-piercing consideration burrowing ever more deeply.

***

Nia and Andre drank, at, socialised, and danced. The two were quite popular evidently, in this new reality. Numerous friends of Yunique’s and Deshawn’s were now also their friends, and even their neighbours who were in on their change were having trouble keeping track of the old memories that Nia and Andre were now a part of.

“It’s so good to see you two back together again!” one man said, whose name was apparently Rob. Andre, by instinct, gave him a fistbump followed by a hug. “Man, I won’t lie though, I was totally hoping to snag up Nia before you came back to her bro. That body is wiiiiild!”

Nia grinned, despite inwardly feeling like a slab of meat on display. Still, she thrust out her large chest, allowing her prominent cleavage to be seen by this Rob, and he couldn’t help but grin as he looked down.

“Yeah, real wild,” he repeated.

Andre placed his large hand on her ass as he pulled her towards him.

“Wild, and all mine, Rob.”

“Yeah babe, all yours. The whole damn package.”

Rob chuckled, taking it well. “Like I said, jealous as hell, and still happy for you! Now are you gonna stay here talking to an old would-be flame, or are we gonna listen to some of that sweet music?”

“Gotta pay at the concert tomorrow!” piped up Monica from the couch, sitting next to her girlfriend. “That’s the deal! We’re gonna blow up, just you watch.”

“That I got no doubt on,” someone else said, “you guys are sick. And Nia’s voice, and Andre’s lyrics? Not to mention Deshawn and Yunique. That’s a band, right there!”

“It’s the future of hip hop,” Yunique called, even as she made out with Deshawn on the couch. “And we’re sticking together, all five of us. Isn’t that right, Nia and Andre?”

The two gave the affirmative, unable to say anything else.

“That’s right.”

“Hell yeah!”

The party continued on, with them meeting more of their neighbours’ friends, and even drinking and dancing a few more times. Nia was forced to strut her stuff in the backyard to the music, along with several of the girls. A number of them were as young and hot as her, though in her opinion, she would have taken the cake. Harvey’s own fetish for dark skinned women would have gone to eleven at this party, not that he would ever have attended it. But despite many of the men clearly looking at her with lust, and the fact that she was unable to not feel a little smug in her enjoyment of that aspect, she was shocked most of all by how much of a community was present. All her life, she had denigrated these communities of black and minority subcultures as being crack dens, drug gangs, miscreant immoral youths, gatherings of too young parents who should have their kids taken away.

But now, seeing people enjoying themselves, even if there was some weed being passed around, he had a different perspective. They talked politics, they discussed music and film. They talked about ways to help out a struggling friend, or raise funds for a local girl with health issues. They supported one another, danced and laughed together, and talked about all kinds of petty shit together.

In effect, they were people, and a tight community of people at that. She smiled, and it was a strangely earnest smile, for once devoid of malice, as she looked at the array of couples together, and brothers and sisters, and people from all around the wider neighbourhood of colour to which Yunique and Deshawn belonged. Harvey had never known such a community. Sure, it existed around him, but he’d always sought for ways to topple it, to lead it, to push others down within it. Now, being offered a drink and a dance and complimented on her looks as people partied and caught up together, she was wondering if she was missing out all this time.

“Hang on,” Andre said, stopping that thought. “That can’t be. Are you for fuckin’ real?”

Nia looked about. “What? Who is it?”

“The Richardson! And the Haverwalls! And the damned Lymann’s! They’re all turning up! H-how could they? Are they here to stop the party?”

Nia spun to see what her wife-turned-boyfriend was seeing. It was true, and it shocked her as much as him. Several white neighbours, including some who were older in age, were turning up to the party. But instead of demanding it end, they approached Deshawn and Yunique, saying hello to them and meeting their friends.

“They - they can’t be like this,” Andre said. “I know for a fact they held our views.”

“I’m not sure they ever did,” replied Nia. “Look at how they’re greeting our dark skinned ‘friends.’ Did you ever get a smile like that from Sarah Lymann? Did she ever bring cake and fine red wine to us?”

Andre fell silent. In truth, he was grappling with feelings of deep hurt. He’s always assumed as a woman that he was the top of the pyramid, the woman who kept in touch with all the women, and knew which ones to peck and which ones to reward with her compliments. Who was moral and immoral, and how to chase out who, or bring into the fold. Or both, if it meant teaching them to stay in line.

And now that self-image of herself as the queen hen, the matriarch of the neighbourhood, was falling to pieces. Like mafia members kissing the new don’s hand, their white neighbours were showing up with gifts, presents of alcohol, and treats. There was a sort of amusement from the other members of the party who had colour to their skin. Clearly, the introduction of cake and biscuits and red wine was a “very white guy thing,” as one person murmured. But even that came with an amused sense of congratulations and welcome, like the guy who keeps hitting gutterballs in bowling because he doesn’t quite get it, but hey, at least he was trying his hardest!

“I can’t believe this,” he murmured. “They - they hated us, didn’t they?”

Nia nodded, trying to avoid the tears from spilling from her eyes, all because of her damned female hormones. She clung closer to Andre.

“I think they did, Andre.”

“I thought I was in charge. I thought they liked me.”

“I’m starting to think we were the Scrooge and the Grinch, honey.”

Andre stared a few more seconds, until finally he couldn’t even find the right words.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, honey. Fuck.”

The party continued around them, but that revelation hit hard. Both their revelations did. They barely even noticed when Yunique and Deshawn halted the proceedings to thank everyone for coming, and to remind them to come to the concert the next day. It was only when they were pulled up to the backyard door to ‘stand with the band’ that they were shaken from their strange stupor.

“Like we was saying,” Deshawn said. “Come tomorrow! We’re just one act of many, but I got it on good authority that the performances are being scoped out by some interested parties. We want a big cheer, not a forced one but genuine, to get that crowd going. We’re gonna make it to the top, people!”

There was a huge cheer that went up, and Yunique took over.

“And also everyone, we’re gonna show everyone what the black neighbourhood experience is like! Our music is gonna be for us, about us, and to make people know how strong and unique we are in our community!”

Another cheer. Yunique turned, smiling over to Andre and Nia, who were forced to smile before the party crowd.

“And we’re gonna be famous! Everyone’s gonna know us as successful black musicians! Thanks to you! And thanks to Monica, Andre, and Nia here! They’re gonna be famous stars sharing their experiences, ain’t that right! Ya’ll are gonna show the world what change is!”

The sentences were dripping with double-meaning, and all Andre and Nia could do was absorb it. The concert was tomorrow, and it had the feeling of finality to it. Whatever happened when they played and sang the next day, both got the feeling it would define their fates for good.

And as their white neighbours clapped earnestly, cheering for them, both the transformed individuals were starting to finally let it sink in that their former lives might not be worth returning to at all.

But then the music started up again, and the drinks were in their hands once more, and the two were on their puppeteer’s strings, dancing and drinking and laughing their way through the night. All the time their fears followed them.

To Be Continued . . . or Concluded?