New Music in the Hood, Epilogue (Patreon)

Warning: themes of Racism

The final part of this story! Hope you've enjoyed it. I'll be placing a poll for premium users soon on the next ongoing TG story!

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, Epilogue

Nia cried in orgasm, clutching Andre’s hair as he licked her wet, hungry pussy. Being eaten out was one something she just readily accepted these days, and it didn’t take long for her to orgasm, particularly when his powerful hands were massaging her perfect, sensitive breasts.

“Yesss . . . ohhhhh . . . Oh God, fuck baby! Yeah, right there! That’s my G-spot! MMHHHM!!!”

She seized, shaking as the orgasm pounded through her being, reduced her to a quivering puddle. She trembled, before finally going loose. Andre pulled himself up, looking over his babymama and caressing her prominent belly. Yes, babymama.

They had managed to avoid falling pregnant for so long, but eventually their wild life of sex had caught up with them after four years. The band, by that point, had taken off to great success, and to their great frustration Yunique, Monica, and Deshawn were all still part of it. They still lived in their neighbourhood, but already the group were touring across the country, sharing their now-famous rap and hip hop songs, and the magnetic dancing that came with it. And through it all, the former WASPs had continued fucking like rabbits, their horny, attractive bodies all over each other.

The result was now obvious.

“Ughh, that was good,” Nia moaned as Andre helped her up.

“It wasn’t bad, I guess,” Andre admitted, rubbing his hair with his hand.

“You used to hate doing that. You called it sinful.”

“It is sinful. It’s all wrong. But . . . I guess it’s not too bad, baby.”

“Mhmmm . . . not too bad at all. Almost makes up for you knocking me right up.”

Andre rolled his eyes as he headed for the shower, her following after. “Takes two to tango, baby. You were moaning very loudly each time I fucked your tight pussy. Besides, I’ve been through it, remember?”

Nia shrugged, admitting defeat. The two shared the shower space as they turned the shower on, and during that time they caressed each other, particularly Nia’s belly. She could barely believe that not only was she still a woman, but now a pregnant one, and a famous pregnant one at that. She’d seen herself in the gossip rags and online, wearing those tight revealing outfits that showed off her bump. She didn’t want to wear them, but as usual the strange magic that had controlled them for four years even controlled her wardrobe while heavy with child.

Of course, Yunique and Deshawn were happy for them. They weren’t ready to start a family yet, but something about the former white racists getting knocked up and giving birth to gorgeous little black babies just made them smug. Yunique especially. But worse than that, it just seemed that the two neighbours - and they did indeed still live just across the street, so that they saw each other every day even when not working in their band - were genuinely happy for them.

Nia sighed.

“What’s wrong, sexy?”

“Just remembering what life used to be like.”

“Huh. Me too.”

“Back when we were white. And the right gender. And not forced into this damned life of singing.”

“You nervous about the concert tonight?”

Nia looked up at her man. The one that had once been a short, angry, spiteful little woman. “No, that’s the weird part. I’m not nervous at all. Even five months knocked up, I know I’ll kill it. Hell, I’m fucking practising my twerks even with this belly. I feel like I’ve got the energy for it no matter what. Don’t you?”

Andre nodded. “Yeah, totally. Like, I got this drive to get out there and kill the performance, even more than usual.”

They turned off the shower, began to towel each other off, as was their usual routine.

“Then what you worried about, honey?”

Nia chuckled darkly as she went out into the main room to dress. Her boobs were even larger than usual, and her chocolate brown skin glowed in pregnancy. She looked deeply sexy, even the middle of her second trimester. She had no stretch marks, and her face was just as pretty as always. Her hair was longer than it had been, and its curly nature framed her face perfectly.

“I guess just how used to this I’m getting. Being a woman. Being black. Being a hip hop singer.”

“I know what you mean,” Andre replied, getting dressed too. “Sometimes I forget I was ever Karen. Sometimes I even forget how much I hate - hated people who were . . . black.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in silence a while, contemplating each other, deeply attracted to the other’s body and strangely satisfied with their own. It was hell. They both yearned for their old lives, but those might as well have been a century ago. Ever since that fateful first concert, they had become stuck in their new forms, and they both knew it. Their success was guaranteed, and the following years had become a whirlwind of concerts, album and single releases, interviews and glamour photoshoots and marketing and modelling and public appearances and television interviews and on and on. They were in the spotlight, and Neighbour’s Hood were soon one of the more popular hip hop bands in the region, and were not far off becoming nationally recognised. Soon, their neighborhood would be a thing of the past. It almost was already, and that was saddening enough. Even Yunique and Deshawn admitted they would miss it.

After some time pondering this, the two felt that push again. The puppeteer’s strings rising.

“You know, if you’re feeling down,” Andre said without any power to control his words, “then why don’t I use my big black dick to make you feel better, huh?”

“Mhmm, it works every other time. And you know I love you fucking me while I lie on my back.”

Soon they were doing just that: Nia lying on her back on the bed, crying out in pleasure as he pumped his massive rod into her. They were well used to this by now, and could only try to relax and enjoy it, even if it still occasionally brought the taste of humiliation.

***

“What took you so long? Nevermind, I bet I know.”

Andre and Nia looked at Yunique, feeling sheepish and embarrassed in her presence. She was wearing a gorgeous sequin dress that showed off her best features, while Deshawn was in a designer hoodie and ripped jeans. They were ready to play before the crowd, but Nia and Andre had arrived later than expected, a fact which had clearly irritated Monica.

“Always you two,” she complained, rolling her eyes. “I don’t care how long me and my girlfriend make out, I’m always on time for a concert.”

“Well, I’m pregnant,” Nia muttered, “that’s my excuse.”

“Must still be quite interesting for you,” Yunique said knowingly.”

“Still, I imagine it’s quite a blessing, having a beautiful black baby on the way,” added Deshawn. It was partly a shot across the bow, but in truth, he actually seemed quite happy for them. Without even meaning to, Nia clutched her stomach protectively. Soon several makeup artists were upon them, adjusting their makeup and getting the transformed pair ready. Andre was going shirtless for this performance, something the former Karen would never quite live down. Meanwhile, Nia wore a dress that was little more than a transparent nylon covering with a black lingerie set beneath. It revealed her perfect form and full, dark breasts, pressed together into a bountiful set of cleavage.

“God, this is too much,” she whined, before her automatic response kicked in. “But I fucking love it so much. I’ll drive them all wild, won’t I, baby?”

“Oh hell yeah, sexy. You’re driving me wild.”

Yunique giggled. She’d long come to recognise those moments where they couldn’t help how they talked. Still, she wasn’t as hostile as she used to be, and placed her arms over the shoulders of her two ‘friends.’

“Well gang, are we ready for another performance of a lifetime? I’ve got a feeling this is the one that takes us national. Hell, international!”

The two nodded, a little sadly. They were broken, defeated, resigned to their forms. Were they redeemed? Were they made better? Perhaps that was still years away, or just a beautiful child away. Perhaps they would always harbour a bit of self-hate, knowing they deserved this fate. Or maybe they were always being chipped at, their formerly bigoted exteriors being cut away day by day, until there would only be Nia and Andre left, and perhaps a chance to change.

But as usual, tonight was not that night. They had surrendered to their new lives, but it would still take some time to love and accept them. For now, they were prepped to go on stage, their bodies and voices and personalities wired to drive the crowd wild. Nia looked over Andre, admiring his handsome form, and he did the same to her, admiring her voluptuous curves. The desperate attraction remained, and would for life. It was a small compensation, and the same was true of the beat they could both feel in their hearts, this new music they had come to adopt.

They were ready to play it now.

“Introducing the featured band of the night: the Neighbour’s Hood.”

A roar of approval echoed from the front stage, and the technicians backstage informed them it was time to go up. Monica went first, then Deshawn. With a wink and an amused smirk, Yunique followed. It left the transformed pair together.

“Well, time to go,” Andre said, sighing a little. He mounted the stage, and the crowd roared approval.

“Yeah,” Nia said, rubbing her belly, thinking of all the ways her life had changed, and wondering if she would ever accept it. There was a slight stirring in her womb, and it brought a brief smile to her face. A part of her had come to love performing on stage, and respect the hip hop and rap she performed with her boyfriend. Perhaps, just perhaps, she could change her view a little. For Andre, and for this little, one.

“Time to face the music,” she said in her sweet, sultry voice.

She took to the stage, and the neighbours began to play.

The End