Subject: Forever Vacation (part 2) gay/interracial, authoritarian, sf-fantasy **** MEN OF GHAJANGA **** Meanwhile… Not all African nations had implemented a W.H.I.T.E. program at the same time. Ghajanga hadn’t been an overwhelmed destination at first, but eventually saw a need to integrate whitemen, too. Luckily I had gotten into paradise the moment I had turned 18, long since used to my Tri, where my cock and balls had once been. Above it sat the letter D. I couldn’t legally tell you what it had once stood for but now my name was Dickbrain. My ear tag was yellow. A holo-collar ringed my neck, but it was on speech mode. I was never silenced in the house. There was so much chatter going on, I needed permanent permission to respond. My current task was to vacuum the floor of the common room, which should have been easy in the beautiful Ghajangan sun falling through the open window, the noise of Zantombo — the city outside — fighting against the nearby ocean’s rumble. Paradise, right? But the men who’d been assigned as my integration friend group, much as I loved them, kept porn running on the common room projector. A gorgeous white chick was getting railed a two gorgeous black hunks and as much as I tried to look elsewhere, I was already at level 3, `Sex Crazed’, my urges listed as `public masturbation, pussy craving, sexual harassment (female victim)’. Even worse, I kept imagining myself as the black dudes railing the chick, so my attitude was level 2 — `Chauvinist’ – for denying my inferiority. Fuck. It wasn’t even lunch and I was already on my second Auto-Admonishment. Loud voices came from below and I turned off the vacuum, going on my knees. Eight African god entered, clad in gym thongs with a black and white stripe pattern. They were drenched in sweat from intense exercise. Semi-hardons tented the clothing enough to reveal most dick roots. The men of the Zantombo Zebras sports team continued to chat as they stepped out of their clothing and tossed the flimsy fabric at me. I collected the thongs, waiting for Master Jamal to acknowledge me. “Dickbrain, done with chores?” Master Jamal was tall, massive, bald and of the deepest black. My owner. He was nearly 40 and too buff to be an athlete, acting as the Zantombo Zebras’ coach. His golden septum ring matched the studs in his ear lobes and nipples. Looking at his dick — thick enough to have been a struggle when we first met — and the pearls of sweat running down the shaft, I got a Reminder. I was maximally aroused, but an `Anal Whore’ instead of `Rapey’ — the saving grace of a bisexual slave. “Sir, yes, sir, Master Jamal. Your little monkey is ready to service your perfect body.” While the other, more athletic hunks spread across the room, filling it with the smell of fresh sweat, Master Jamal shoved his cock into my mouth, just to let me lick the sweat of his shaft and smooth balls. He grabbed the back of my head and pissed. “Ajiad,” Master Jamal said to a man of deep brown with three long cornrows tails. “Yeah coach?” “Grab your slave. Teasing only. I need you guys eager for practice.” “Sure, coach.” My owner drained the last few drops into my mouth, then kicked me over to the sofa where Master Karim waited with thick legs far apart. There were two primary kinds of lightkiters. Karim was the `rapid’ kind, requiring strength above all. His body was loaded with muscles at the limit of his athletic optimum. He was short and broad, medium black with a shaved head. A symmetrical white-ink neck tattoo gave his stature an even more jockish appearance. I dove between his legs, licking sweat off his huge thighs, which he flexed for me. As I licked around his abs, he leaned back, giving me a view of the projection screen. Fuck, I wanted to ram my cock into a pussy with all my might. Arousal did not rise during sex, but it could flip. A Reminder told me I had just switched from max level gay to max level straight arousal — `Rapey’, which took precedent. Fuck. No point trying to go back. I was already marked. I decided to enjoy it, eyes on the chick getting railed by three black cocks while Master Karim’s rod split my lips. Soon my eyes watered too much to see anything. But I stayed `Rapey’ and my constant wish to replace the superior men in the porn had me trending up from `Bigot’. Only the fact I was sucking superior cock right now was keeping me safe. Master Ajiad came back with Slutboy in tow. The new whiteman was only just come to Ghajanga and been lucky enough to get assigned here. Since many western names started with S, there were a lot of `Slutboys’ round. At least he wasn’t yet another `Sucker’. The room started clearing out as everybody trudged toward the showers. “You’re pretty fucking racist already, Dickbrain,” Master Ajiad said as he kicked me in the ass walking by. “This monkey is sorry for its stupidity, sir,” I mumbled into Master Karim’s rod. “Wishing you could be an African sexgod like me?” Yes I did. Which made me trend up. Fuck. “N-no, sir, Master Ajiad. I love being a suck slave for real men. I live to serve black heroes like you and Master Karim.” I wasn’t really lying, but I was torn between submitting and rebelling and of course the S-display would show `urge: white supremacy’ now. I couldn’t help but want to be one of them. I’d learn proper whitemanship eventually, I was sure, but I wasn’t there yet. “You wish you could make *me* suck *your* cock, huh?” the athlete facefucking me asked. “No,” I said into his balls as I sucked them. But the seed had been planted once again. In my arousal I did find the idea hot as fuck. A Reminder ripped through me. I was marked as a `Rapey Racist’, not only craving pussy but also thinking of myself as superior. “That’ll do, D,” Master Karim said. I licked up his crack and taint, my eyes fixated on the projected, cumdripping pussy. Trending down wouldn’t help anymore anyway. He leisurely kicked me away. “You’ll get the rest later.” “It was a pleasure as always, sir. May this Dickbrain join his friends in the shower, sir?” “Yeah, I’ll be right there, too.” I stayed on all fours and accepted a little Reprimand Master Ajiad had donated me walking past, shocks zapping my in the hidden dick, balls and ass, making me quiver. Then I accepted my next Auto-Admonishment. Getting pain-fucked by a spike of torture for ten seconds, racing from my Tri into everywhere else, reset my arousal and attitude indicators to `Randy Inferior’. It was up to me to keep it that way and, frankly, I was prone to lapses in whitemanship. I currently stood at 8-R. Each failure, being Rapey and being Racist, were rewarded with another R, so I got two more. My 10-R exchanged for their `prize’ and my `2377 days of service left’ ticked up to 2378. At least I was only one more O away from 10, too. Just as I dropped the team’s sweaty gym clothes into the washbin, I got a Reminder vibrating into me. Master Jamal was getting impatient. Blog İçerik Tabanlı Sosyal Ağı Sitesi I hurried to the showers, a black tiled room with moody neon light rows. Eight athletes were rubbing off the final patches of shampoo, their varying browns and blacks gleaming pink and azure. Among them, standing out like a slice of toast among artisanal cakes, kneeled Slutboy. Master Ajiad had gripped the boy’s hair, sensually face fucking him. The slave’s back read `Sex Crazed Bigot’, both trending up, then `urges: disrespecting owner, disrespecting integration service, harassment’. Slutboy didn’t like oral much, but at least he had learned to obey his owner enough to satisfy him. The young whiteman had the advantage of a new W.H.I.T.E. program initiative. Some whitemen didn’t exactly thrive in large, loose friend groups, so newbies had the option for a more intimate master-white. Slutboy wasn’t `Feral’ like me, but `Secured’, assigned to Master Ajiad personally. Meanwhile, Master Jamal was just a supervisor of a sort while the entire Zantombo Zebra club house shared me equally. Just as I entered the showers, somebody switched the place to steam mode. Heat and mist rushed from the shower heads. The entire back wall turned into a projection, where a black and a white chick went at it. Master Jamal gave me an Admonishment for being late — his right as owner – which I accepted right away. I clutched my Tri, legs pressed together and whimpered at the reams of pain running from crotch to neck and radiating into my limbs. I felt my vocal dampeners clamp down on my neck whenever I made a noticeable sound as if I got choked by an invisible hand. My S-display showed `white supremacy’ as an urge, after most punishments. I had to make sure the program knew that *I knew* I was an obedient subordinate to my betters. Luckily, words spoke louder than thoughts, and actions louder yet. “Slave Dickbrain reporting for use, sirs.” I ended up between the ashy black legs of Mudassir. An `endurance type’ kiter, the tall Mudassir had long, firm legs, able to do minor course corrections on his board for the nearly hour-long challenge tracks on calm water. His sharp face was crowned by a pineapple top of dreadlocks. His hand were big enough to envelop my head. His facefuck was merciless. I was probably trending down in attitude. Someone pulled up my hips and fucked me. Not sure who, but I had some guesses. Slutboy was getting fucked, too, but as far as I could tell he enjoyed that a lot more than oral. I fingered my nipples as pleasure settled into me. I was save during sex and even I had trended up it would be toward `Anal Whore’. And I *was* an anal whore. My average between orgasms was six days and I was on day seven. I really needed that last O somehow. Mudassir pulled out. “Gotta stop here.” “Thank you, sir,” I said. I remained in bent position even as my ass got vacated, in case another man wanted to use me. My view was clear to the projector wall. A whiteman was on screen, naked but only visible form the navel up. He had a bored-looking, pretty girl on either side of him. Straight porn featuring whitemen was illegal in countries participating in the program, so I knew this was a trap. Some of the hunks loved doing that. I stared, despite knowing it was a mistake, and so did Slutboy. We slaves were just that stupid. With the tap of a wand by the chicks, the whitemen on screen transformed through the magic of flawless GCI. As his skin darkened and his features tuned African, the camera pulled back and his crotch sprouted a vein-ripped, rock hard eight incher. The moment the transformation was complete, the black actor got to ravaging the exhilarated girls. I practically *snapped* to `Racist’ from thinking of myself as the guy in the scenario instead of the inferior, worthless bitch I was. The sight of the beautiful hunk having his way with two pussies at once sent me toward maximum arousal with no chance at my precious `Anal Whore’ option saving me. Someone gripped my hair from behind. “How’s that?” he said. “M-master Jamal. Thank you for this lesson, sir. A slave as stupid as this one has a lot to learn, sir. I’m so glad I have you to keep teaching me, owner.” “Good,” Master Jamal said. “Boys, go dry off. I’m just gonna finish up in here.” Slutboy left with the others, their erections barely subsided. Nobody had cummed. They needed to stay riled up for practice. As the coach, Master Jamal could cream into a hole just fine and so he did. Not everybody had a load big enough for me to feel it, but my owner always did. He sent me a Reprimand as he pulled out. The shocks in my Tri made me feel how much I needed to piss by now. “Thank you, Master. Your little Dickbrain is thrilled to get loaded with your superior juice.” I went on all fours the moment he left me and accepted my punishment. After three Auto-Admonishments, the final step of the system was `Castigation’. Pain flowed into me, rising and falling like I was enveloping an erratic lightning-jackhammer. Ten seconds of confusing waves. Castigations were Admonishments on steroids, coming and going randomly, rolling through my soul as much as my body. Drool dripped off my lips as I screamed silently. In my spasms, I shot my master’s cum from my hole. Dizzy and weak on my knees, I cleaned up and waddled after my friends. Toward the beach. The moment I stepped outside, my general permission to speak was revoked. I got a Reminder about it. Making my way through the narrow, colorful, sunflooded streets of Zantombo, I couldn’t help but smile. It was all I had dreamed of when coming here — a permanent vacation. My work was not exactly demanding by comparison, plus I had a whole `frathouse’ as buddies, even if they liked hazing a bit too much. Maybe if I hadn’t been bi, I’d have thought worse, but straight guys like Slutboy stuck around, too. The beach wasn’t too crowded, beautiful Ghajangans lounging, African tourists roaming around, a few whitemen running delivery or hanging with their masters. The `Zebras’ were in fresh black-and-white thongs, readying their boards, each a design piece speaking to the athlete. The endurance lightkiters were already on the water, testing the wind as they drifted farther out. They’d join the stream of amateur kiters at the horizon. The shorter, stronger men were rapid lightkiters, talking animatedly about tricks they’d perform, teeth sparkling between thick lips as they joked. Fuck, I was up to `Sex Crazed’ again. I had to look elsewhere and take deep breaths, hoping to get back to `Horny’. Girls playing volleyball? Too sexy to look at. A family having a picnic? Creepy to be looking at. A douche station by the beach showers where two monkeys got their guts cleaned? Safe to look at, but no point going over. Until recently, douche terminals had been a good place for a quick chat with fellow slaves who had chosen to suck African cock Sesli Kitap Dinle in exchange for a life in paradise. But fraternizing with other whitemen wasn’t the path to integration, so a rule change was being rolled out, spearheaded by Ghajanga. Looking at the row of stores along the shore, a youthfully firm backside of European white stood out. It was Slutboy standing around, stealing glances at the volleyball girls. He wore a puppy tail his owner had gotten him — Zebra patterned. The upward turned tail wiggled as he shifted from one leg to the other. The plug set firm but its base required the user to stand in a subtle squat, his ass pushed out a tiny bit. I threw my arm around the slave’s shoulder from behind and groped his Tri with a nod. He gave my crotch a hard grip. I could speak. “Trying to collect Rs now, Slutty?” “No, sir… Fuck, I keep calling whitemen `sir’.” Slutboy’s attitude trended up from `Inferior’ slightly, but didn’t tick over. The system could tell it had been a mistake and he still knew he was just a hole for real men. “You have to find some other `honorific’ to call slaves by,” I explained. “Or just their name if you know them.” His face scrunched up in thought. “Thanks, Dickbrain.” Master Yusuf stepped up next to us and we let go off each other’s Tris. Half a head shorter than me, the musclebound Yusuf sported a mohawk and large golden earrings. Since the rapid kiter had to sit out practice today — a minor injury — he also wore his golden nipple rings. A white tank top ended just above those nipples, draped over the big pecs. He also wore a Zantombo Zebra jockstrap and sandals. “Mind if I take you monkeys with me?” Our Tris flashed with the wish to speak and Yusuf gave each of our crotches a slap with the back of his hand. I spoke. “It would be a pleasure for this slave to be accompany you, sir.” I was set from `Feral’ to `In Use’. Slutboy bowed. “Sir, I didn’t get to thank you for fucking me so beautifully in the showers, sir. Your dick game has only gotten better, sir.” Master Yusuf lead the way into a beach café. Bright wood, blue paint peeling off, the smell of coffee, seashell décor, holographic fish swimming near the ceiling. As I got registered with the locale’s network, my S-display expanded. `2378 days of service left, 0-R, 9-O, last orgasm 8 days ago, recent sexual partners: male, recent violations: neglect of duty’ appeared underneath the `Horny Inferior, urges: sexual harassment, public urination, white supremacy (speaking out of turn)’. Everyone got to see that `Whitemen to Sex God Transformation’ was my favorite piece of media — or rather the one I had most strongly reacted to as measured by the system. Slutboy (favorite media: `White Girls on BBC island’) lubed his fingers and drove three into my hole, fingerbanging me until the system was satisfied with the demonstration of my cleanliness. He had to dig deep. I did squats on an xxl dildo every morning — just like him — but I was no longer loose enough to swallow his wrist. I didn’t have to return the favor since he wore the puppy tail which made sure he wouldn’t sit down anyway. I just disinfected my hands like Master Yusuf. I took stock. A few mixed gender teen groups played holo-poker on their round tables, the boys wearing speedos or thongs, the girls skirts or bikini bottoms. Some of either gender wore crop tanks with holo-designs. A few men worked on projection tablets, writing their novels or some such, mostly clad in mini shorts or brightly colored jockstraps which had exploded in popularity. There was one small table of guys not native to Ghajanga — a whole four bald whitemen, sitting with knees in each other’s crotches, eating spoonfuls of ice cream. Master Yusuf took us to the bar where he sat backwards, wide legged on a stool, leaning on the counter behind him. We knelt down. He shook off his sandals and we massaged his feet. We whitemen got bowls of chow and dug our faced in, while Master Yusuf has a cup of coffee. I could have ordered something else, but that required you to sit at a table, so I’d have had to request permission from Master Yusuf and I wanted to save myself the hassle. And after years of slave chow I didn’t have much of a refined palate anyway. A Ghajangan woman sat down next to my current sir, wearing a tiny, white thong, her ears sparkling with silver jewelry, rubies in her hair. “You’re an athlete right? I recognize you.” Master Yusuf gave us light kicks to the face. “Monkeys? Let me have a chat with the lady. Go sit with the other slaves.” Then he turned to the woman. We bowed and retreated. I was happy for him, but Slutboy had a lot more left to learn, wanting to compete with his superior for the chick if I interpreted his urges right. We walked over to the table of slaves, our Tris pulsing with light. They waved us to join. I got a seat, puppy-tailed Slutboy had to stand. I put my hand into two crotches, feeling the skin-like texture and heat of slave groins. One of them, pushed his thigh into my crotch. Only Slutboy had to stay silent. “Hi, slaves, I’m Dickbrain. The newbie is Slutboy. My owner doesn’t come here often but I think I’d have seen you before.” “Yeah, we had a somewhat spontaneous meeting, hehe,” a guy with a close shaved head said (Sex Crazed Bigot, public urination and verbal harassment urges). He patted an older slave on the shoulder. “It’s Cockwarmer’s first day of freedom. He’s been in the program from its very first day.” “Wow, a while ago.” Cockwarmer (Horny Inferior, public masturbation and cock sucking urge) shrugged shyly. “I didn’t think I’d ever finish. It just kind of happened by serving our true superiors with the devotion they deserve. I’ll volunteer for another round when my reapplication’s processed to fulfill my destiny.” Slutboy’s chest switched to `Rapey Chauvinist’. He was glancing at Master Yusuf, whose hand had moved onto the chick’s thigh. “Not looking to get the Tri off?” I asked Cockwarmer. “Wouldn’t feel right anymore, huh?” “Correct,” Cockwarmer said. “I’m nothing but a hole for African gods. And so are you, slave.” “Man,” I said with a sigh. “No wonder you finished integration. They’ll make you a poster-whiteboy.” The slave who’d spoken first slapped my chest. “I’m Sucker, by the way.” He looked at Slutboys crotch. “Fellow `S’, huh?” I looked at the other two guys, sitting to my left and right. Bald, beefy, with strong European noses that had no hint of African features. “And you two uglies?” I shifted my hands to look at their flat groins. “C and O?” “I’m Asshole,” one of them said. “He’s Assfuck. Sometimes the other way around. We’re brothers with the same owner and there’s no reason he’d need to keep us apart. We serve our superiors to integrate.” “Gay?” I asked. Asshole started, “We came here for the chicks but…” Assfuck finished. “…we got addicted to black cock. We’re lucky most of our masters’ dicks are huge. We obey Exxen with joy.” This wasn’t necessarily true. Maybe the ass-brothers just had to compensate for their racist thoughts by saying polite words. Why else would they be `Chauvinist’ when just chatting among themselves? Cockwarmer shoved the half eaten ice cream away. “Anyone of you ugly monkeys want that? It’s just weird not eating slave chow on a weekday.” “I…” My answer was interrupted by a Reminder. I glanced at my wrist. “Slutboy, Master Yusuf wants to impress the girl. We gotta be wingman.” The newbie nodded. “I can help,” Sucker said. The three of us rushed to drop to our knees at Master Yusuf’s muscular, athlete legs, eyes straight ahead at his zebra jockstrap. Slutboy quickly accepted his Castigation to reset while me and Sucker waited with lit Tris. Master Yusuf gave me a kick in the crotch. “Dickbrain, say hi.” Keeping my eyes on Master Yusuf’s crotch, I did my legal duty when talking to females. “Madam, this whiteman is currently labeled `Sex Crazed’ by the W.H.I.T.E. system. I should be considered having low self-restraint and sexual impulse-control. If I appear likely to consider sexual harassment or assault, or if this conversation upsets you, please do not hesitate to report me for punishment.” Master Yufus waved me to continue. “Tell Citra a bit about me, monkey.” “Master Yusuf is one of my best friends, madam. Watching him fly the lightkite is a treat, with his discipline and maneuvers. He’s a legendary fuck, too.” Madam Citra giggled and leaned into Master Yusuf. Part of me was hoping I’d get to be there when they fucked, maybe help out in some form. Many women appreciated having a human sextoy along for the ride. Naturally, my selfish ideas made me trend up to `Chauvinist’. “Someone need help calming down?” Master Yusuf asked. “Too kind, sir,” I said and gave Slutboy a push. We were both trending up on attitude. Master Yusuf pulled up his legs a bit and presented his feet. We each got to lick one. Thankfully actions spoke louder than thoughts, so our `sexual assault’ and `white supremacy’ urges were combated by servicing a black sir like whitemen are meant to. “And you, bitch?” Master Yusuf asked Sucker who still knelt in silence. After a kick to the Tri, Sucker bowed. “Sir, this monkey came along to assist your slaves in proper worship of your perfection. Even from across the room this monkey knew you deserve any kind of service.” Obviously, Sucker (Rapey Inferior, urge: public masturbation, sexual assault (vaginal), public urination) just wanted a chance to see pussy. Master Yusuf knew that, too. He was superior after all. “You don’t know this one?” Madam Citra asked. “All right let’s hear what you think you can say about Yus’.” Sucker didn’t turn toward her. “Madam, this whiteman is currently labeled `Rapey’ by the W.H.I.T.E. system. I am measurably consumed by the urge to commit sexual assault through penetration, specifically of women. Please freely report me for punishment under any circumstances, including consensual sexual activity.” “Yeah yeah, get started.” Sucker’s eyes dashed up and down Yusuf’s body, from the mohawk to the feet we were still licking. “Sir, the fact you are with the Zantombo Zebras alone makes clear you are more diligent and inspiring than a bitchy white monkey can ever be, sir. Your physical control and stamina surely translate to the bedroom where the drive from your superhuman legs must make penetration an unforgettable experience. The style of trendy jockstrap, nipple rings and mohawk suggest an ability to be fashion conscious with an edge of adventure and self-assurance. I’d trust you to have impeccable manners without selling yourself short.” Sucker was impressively good at this. Fuck. Most whitemen fell back on `so hot and sexy and smart my black superior, bla bla’ but he made his complements specific to Master Yusuf with very little knowledge. Could I compete against a slave genius like that? Probably no point. Also, I was `Rapey’ by now. All my staring at Master Yusuf’s crotch hadn’t kept me an `Anal Whore’ — the slightest straight urges superseded any cocksucking fantasy. I got an R. I sank back, on all fours and accepted a Castigation. Fifteen seconds now. The waves and waves and waves of pain rendered me mercifully near-deaf to Sucker’s ramblings. He was giving a fucking speech. Why couldn’t it just be me and Master Yusuf? And maybe the chick. I had two more punishments pending. One from the woman, one from Master Yusuf. After Castigation, getting Reprimands rammed into my crotch was actually a good way to snap back to reality. The hazy cloud of jittery after-shocks got zapped away, leaving only anxious euphoria. The woman had made a choice by now. Sucker got the join the daters for a more private setting — back at the dorm, presumably. The false and harmful idea that I somehow deserved some time with the chick made my attitude trend up fast. I focused on how deserving Master Yufus was and how lucky I was to have helped him out. Still, I’d better find some words and actions to make the system see that I was a good guy. “Dickbrain?” Master Yusuf said as he left. “Good job. You get my O.” My permission to speak had been revoked by now, so I just bowed. My heart was hammering in my chest. I was at 10-O. Staring at the African ass that bounced in the jockstrap with every footstep, I accepted the trade. Deep inside me, the Tri triggered my shrunk, inverted cock’s nerves just right. My fingers were on my nipples. A week’s worth of orgasm rushed through me. Incomparable. Then it was simply over. Like it had never even happened. My arousal shot up to `Anal Whore’ level. I quickly accepted the Castigation before the accidental sight of a girl flipped me to rapey which would net me an R. The memory of a deep inner `penile’ orgasm was quickly pushed out by the waves of pain. I was on twenty seconds of whole-body torture now, kneeling in silence at the bar while new patrons took the stools there. I grabbed Slutboy’s crotch and he reciprocated. “Do you want to find a man to serve before you tip over to max arousal again, monkey?” Slutboy looked down at his chest, one hand on his right nipple. “I’m already `Racist’ again, Dickbrain. I got six Rs today and it’s not even lunch. I’ll just go with the flow.” “Fine by me, slave. Maybe hang out with Cockwarmer and the Ass-bros again. You could learn a few things.” I left him and headed back out to the beach. Master Jamal was walking along the ocean, a holo-visualizer lens letting him follow his endurance athletes’ maneuvers far out at sea. The rapid lightkiters were pulling in, their crazy strong legs ripping the board around in overhead flips and dipping down for edge-grinds on the tallest waves before pulling up again. I got a Reminder. Some area tasks that needed doing, now that I was `Feral’ again. Picking up trash, collecting abandoned towels, delivering drinks and so on. I was eager to get busy. As I wandered along the sands of paradise, I scrolled through the system notifications on my wrist. A big update was planned. I had feared things would get tougher for slaves – more demanding — but actually, these changes looked quite helpful…

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