He closed his eyes tight. “You … bitch.”
Dominique giggled. “What? You don’t like the new you? If the old TJ was here, I think he’d be happy to make your acquaintance. Show you some money even. Girls always do what they’re told for some money. Isn’t that right, Marcus?”
The big, black bouncer grinned. “Damn straight.” He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a pair of Grants. A whole hundred bucks right there.
TJ was starting to salivate. That green dough made his heart flutter.
“Crawl towards me, sugar.”
TJ fell to his hands and knees.
He saw the pieces of paper again in his mind, the ones that Dominique had stuffed into the doll’s hidden chest pocket. The words were coming to him, one written on each. His two friends had been right about the paranormal link between the doll and himself, but that was only the beginning. Whatever went into the chest pocket, his desires altered to match. He had no control over it.
TJ liked dick. TJ liked money. TJ liked being submissive. In other words, TJ had become his own favorite girl.
Marcus grabbed his own crotch, as if to make TJ’s destination apparent. His cock was growing, tenting the pants more and more every second. A big black cock. That’s what sprang into TJ’s mind. It’s all he saw when he closed his eyes. He crawled over to where the bouncer was seated and sat his tush down on the carpet like some obedient dog.
“What do you say, Honey Tits? A hundred for some head and swallow?”
TJ shook his head. “A hundred for spit. I’m not some low-class shit. Throw in another fifty and I’ll make sure those balls are empty and there’s no mess.”
Dominique laughed. “There’s that charm again. Watch out, Marcus. She’s a feisty one.”
Marcus grinned. “Okay. One-fifty. That better be some world-class blowjob you’re about to give me.”
TJ was getting impatient. “Just hand over the cash so I can suck your dick, dude.”
He couldn’t believe the words that were flying out of his mouth. It was still him, but only some twisted, fucked-up version of him. Where the old TJ wanted some pussy, the new TJ wanted some hard cock. And he couldn’t convince himself otherwise! When he tried to think of some nice wet pussy to sink his tongue into, the image would change into a throbbing cock waiting to go into his mouth. Fucking shit. Worst of all, he was getting wet because of it! This new TJ had caught a serious case of the gays.
And when Marcus reached into his pants and pulled out his big, black cock—all eight inches of it—TJ couldn’t say no. He liked cock. That’s what the paper had said, one word with four letters spelling out DICK. So simple, yet so effective. TJ’s heart raced to the thought of dick, the taste of dick, the smell of dick. And Marcus’s had a strong musk to it.
Finally, the action he had been craving for.
TJ reached up and grabbed it. That thing was fucking huge. Bigger than his old one, easily. There was no contest. But he didn’t think about that. He only thought about how wet his pussy was getting as he stroked Marcus’s behemoth. It was so gigantic that only his middle finger could touch his thumb when he enclosed his palm around it, but that was before it swelled up even more.
Chris and Harry are still assholes, TJ thought, but I could still suck their dicks.
Marcus groaned. “Yeah, like a true professional. I bet she does have some experience stroking dicks, huh?” He roared with laughter. “Damn.”
TJ gave Marcus some of his top-rate service, and then threw in some spit to make it a full lube job. That black cock really began to shine then. His right hand never even thought about letting go of it. On the contrary, his left hand was making the southward migration to his own black slit. TJ slipped it under his jeans and went about to fingering himself. The panties were already soaked from where juices had been coming out. The inside of his slit was slick and ready to go. He pushed one finger all the way in and moaned.
“This club could use more pretty girls like her,” Dominique said. “You can see it in her eyes. She loves this.”
“She’s got that motion down, but she ain’t the best I’ve had.”
TJ took offense to that. “Hey, I’m right here, you black Tarzan! If you wanted me to switch gears, then you should’ve said so. Otherwise, shut up. I only want your dick. I still hate both of you.”
Marcus relaxed into his seat. “Go on, Honey Tits.”
That fucking name, TJ thought. He already had a name, even if he was currently black and female. But he couldn’t speak up against it. Marcus had told him to go on, and that’s what he did. Because he had to. Just like he had to love dick and he had to love taking their money, he had to do what they said. Do what anyone said. Because, deep down, somewhere next to his heart, TJ was indiscriminately submissive.
TJ’s tug-job had gotten Marcus fully hard—and his own pussy wetter than Niagara Falls. He pushed a finger into his tight hole again and felt the juices running around it, trickling to the surface. He thought of the money again, and Marcus’s offer. That money wasn’t guaranteed unless he went through with it. All the way. With that big, black dick in his sights, TJ opened his lips wide and took it into his mouth. Somewhere deep in his mind, someone was cringing, telling him to stop, contemplating suicide. But not TJ. TJ loved dick. It was as fundamental as breathing oxygen, or eating and drinking. His body needed dick, or else he just wasn’t fucking satisfied.
Marcus exhaled softly. “Yeah, that’s it, Honey Tits.” He looked over at Dominique. “Did you make her get turned-on when called that?”
“No, but I should have,” she said.
TJ couldn’t take all of Marcus’s dick into his mouth. That was impossible, like gravity suddenly reversing and sending everyone flying to outer space. You couldn’t cheat physics. At peak hardness, it was like a wedge trying to dislocate his jaw. He tightened his lips, swirled his tongue around the head, sucked the air out of his mouth—everything he knew girls did when sucking dick. TJ had experienced it plenty of times from the other side, but now he was wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner. Well, it was pretty gay. Not as gay as taking it in the ass, but still a solid five out of ten on the homosexual scale. It didn’t matter. TJ fucking loved having a dick in his mouth.
He slobbered all over it and grabbed the thick base of it. It continued to swell beyond all reason until it had to be nine inches long. And TJ only got wetter down below. He fingered his snatch frantically. The others probably saw him doing it, but he didn’t care. He was horny. Unless they told him to stop, he wouldn’t be taking his hand away from Pleasure Valley. Sucking the dick, taking Marcus’s money, doing what they said—it all got him off. He was basically no different than a naughty stripper looking for an extra-large payday. TJ hoped they weren’t thinking that. He was still a goddamn man underneath a female exterior. A man with a few uncontrollable desires.
TJ’s lips and tongue must’ve been just what Marcus needed, for his orgasm came quick. TJ felt that massive cock growing tight inside his mouth, throbbing more and more. Then, a big gooey load of cum went shooting into his throat. Being a huge fan of cock, TJ loved cum just as much, and he swallowed it all down without letting one drop leave his mouth. Afterward, he sucked any leftovers up and licked his lips clean. Pussy juice gushed into his already-sodden panties, and TJ finished his full-course meal with a dessert of tasty female release. The wetness down below soaked into his jeans.
“Shit, it looks like I peed myself like some little kid,” he said, recovering after a mini orgasm.
He looked up. Dominique and Marcus were gone. What the hell? He hadn’t even heard them leave. Marcus had left the money on the couch—three fifty-dollar bills, as promised for some quality head and clean-up service. TJ snatched it and went to stuff it all into his back pocket, and then saw that he had no pockets.
In fact, he wasn’t wearing any pants!
“Oh, fuck me.”
All the clothes he had been wearing just seconds ago were apparently gone. No trace of them. In their stead
, TJ’s black, slender body was dressed up in a pink two-piece glittery bikini. And it wasn’t much of a bikini! The parts that went over his tits were just wide enough to cover his dark nipples. Same for the crotch, too. A few millimeters narrower and his pussy lips would’ve been hanging out. He might as well have been totally naked.
He swirled his tongue inside his mouth, still tasting cum. “Oh, this is fucking swell.”
Music bumped outside. Bright studio lights danced on the stage. TJ got up and went to the window. Club Voodoo was packed with people! One curvaceous stripper was on the center stage taking her top off and shaking her pancake tits. Others were mingling with the patrons, sitting in laps, rubbing men’s crotches to coax some tips out of them. But that couldn’t be. It was only—
TJ grabbed his phone—at least that hadn’t disappeared. 8:00 P.M. Twelve fucking hours had passed in the blink of an eye. It didn’t make any sense. Turning into a black chick was one thing, and mental changes were another. But time-traveling to the goddamn future? He checked the date just to make sure it was only twelve hours. Yep, the day after Mardi Gras. The day when everyone was supposed to resume their normal life. Not in New Orleans. Mardi Gras was a weekly event.
The door opened, and TJ turned to see some familiar faces.
“VIP room one, right? This is it.” It was Chris. “Hey, it’s all to ourselves.”
“Dude,” said Harry, who was pointing at TJ. “Look who it is.”
TJ strolled over to them, ignoring how the thong bikini bottom rid up into his ass crack. “Thank God it’s you two. Look, we have to get out of here. I don’t know how it got to be so late all of a sudden. We have to figure out a way to change me back.”
“What?” Chris looked at him, dumbfounded. “Hey, we’re both glad you got yourself a job as a local stripper. You sure as shit have the body for it.” He scoped him out, crotch and tits and everything in between. Harry did the same. “But we just paid for a VIP room, and those things aren’t cheap.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “After you didn’t come back to the room, Chris and I figured you went to some bar and got wasted. We checked all the local ones. No cute black girl that went by the name TJ. So we just said, ‘Fuck it,’ and came here. So, are you employed as a stripper now?”
TJ shook his head—while trying not to overtly stare at their crotches. “No, goddammit. They fucking tricked me! Dominique and Marcus. They fucking tricked me into staying a girl. And now it’s late and I don’t know what the hell is going on. I’ve had enough of this girl shit.”
“So, you’re not Honey Tits?” Harry asked.
“What?”
“They told us Honey Tits would be in here,” Chris said. “They said she was really good, and for a little extra she’d do some real fun stuff.”
“Who did?”
“Some big black bouncer dude,” Harry said. “He gave us a few tips.”
TJ sighed. “Of course he did.”
“He also said Honey Tits is real submissive. Like, she’ll do anything you tell her.”
TJ saw where this was headed. “Now wait just a goddamn minute here—”
“Get up there and dance on that pole,” Chris said. He was grinning like a dork. “Me and Harry wanna watch!”
Harry pulled out his wallet. “And I brought some cash to make it rain.”
That was it. TJ had been triggered. He wanted to dance for his buds because they had told him to, and that fat wad of cash right there in Harry’s wallet was impossible to refuse. He couldn’t say no to money, even if it meant embarrassing himself. And he thought about how hard their cocks would get if his sexy black female body made some moves around the pole. Perhaps a few flashes of his naughty parts along with that?
Motherfucking goddamn fucking shit, TJ thought.
Dominique’s voodoo magic flowed through his veins. The music was really thumping down below—along with several hoots and hollers as the strippers went up on stage. TJ barely heard all that. The first floor was a totally different world. It was just him and his best buds, and the two of them were eager to see some tits and ass.
Even though he had no idea where to start, TJ jumped up onto the platform and swung around the pole. Strippers had tons of practice and experience. Hell, stripping itself was an art form. It required a real slut to get up on a stage and take her clothes off in front of horny men waving around their money. Now, TJ was that slut.
“Yeah, let’s go TJ!” Chris hollered.
Harry slapped him on the shoulder. “No, his name is Honey Tits. That’s official from now on.”
“I mean Honey Tits!”
He probably looked like a damn fool up there. TJ’s most death-defying feat was swinging around with one hand firmly on the pole. He’d flip directions just to mix things up, but his two buds clearly weren’t entertained for long. Any thought of stopping was immediately hammered down by the thought of that wad of cash in Harry’s wallet and Chris’s words. Get up there and dance on that pole. He might’ve been a shitty dancer, but he had to obey. No questions asked.
Eventually TJ became a litter braver and leaned all the way out, running his fingers through his hair as he’d seen sexy girls do all the time. He stared at his two friends and their growing bulges. Then his hand slipped and he went falling headlong down onto the floor.
Chris jumped up. “Oh shit.”
TJ jumped back to his feet. “I’m all right. You fags should be happy I made it that long. You try dancing with a thong up your ass.” Even as he spoke, he was already climbing back up to the pole and regaining the momentum he had lost. A few revolutions later and he had the hang of it again. Swing this way. Swing that way. Do a spin or two. Bite his finger and rub between his legs. His pussy was still tender from sucking Marcus’s cock, so it didn’t take long until his panties started to dampen from the flowing juices.
He caught a glimpse of Chris grasping his hard-on. Again, the first thought that came to TJ’s mind was, Fuck him. But he loved cock now, so he couldn’t stop looking. Every twist around the pole came with a glimpse of seeing that bulge getting ever larger. A few moments later, Chris was sporting a full tent—the sort that you have to reach down and tuck back unless you want everyone looking at you. But Chris wasn’t doing that. He wanted TJ to see that pole jutting out of his groin.
TJ had to stop because he was getting dizzy. And hair kept falling into his eyes. No one had warned him about all this stuff. But he still felt the urge to dance, pole or not. So he sat down on the platform, rocking his body to the thumping beat downstairs and spreading his legs. The wet stain at his crotch was completely visible, and both boys saw it. Their eyes went right to it.
“Damn, TJ’s wet!” Chris remarked.
“Honey Tits,” said Harry, who was getting up and opening his wallet.
“Yeah, that.”
TJ’s heart skipped a beat as Harry came over with some cash in his hand.
“You’re a good stripper slut,” he said.
“Shut the hell up,” TJ barked, though he still kept bumping his booty to the tune of the music.
“They said Honey Tits was real good, so you better act like a good stripper.”
“Godda—” TJ cleared his throat. “Hey there, Harry. You want to see this sweet pussy?”
Harry waved the cash. “Sure do!”
TJ felt compelled to pull his panties aside and show his bud Harry that sweet black pussy of his. It was all a part of that fucking voodoo magic, he knew, but he still wanted to do it. Just like how he wanted to speak softly and sexily, the way girls did when they wanted to turn guys on. TJ and his friends had been to lots of strip clubs, so he had an extensive memory of girls talking to him. He just borrowed from there.
As Harry tossed some Washingtons onto the mini-stage, TJ ran a finger up his black slit, showing his friend the cream that had been coming out of his pussy for some time now. Then he sucked that finger dry, showing Harry his tongue licking it clean and everything. He gathered some more, and then it was Harry’s
turn to suck his finger.
Those words echoed in his head again. The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice. And it was so fucking true. TJ had firsthand experience!
There was no use in keeping his panties on, so TJ removed them. Then he turned around and showed Harry his round black ass—pussy and asshole and everything. There was nothing to hide; Harry had all that money. But when Harry grabbed his hips and tried to put his mouth to TJ’s pussy, he leaned away.
Don’t be a cheap ass, TJ wanted to say, but really it came out as, “Show me some green first, sugar.”
Harry lay down two twenties.
TJ grinned. “Get your mouth back there and start licking.”
Harry liked to brag about all the ladies he had eaten out and given orgasms using only his tongue. TJ always gave him shit for it, but now it was time to see whether his friend was telling the truth or not. Harry didn’t delay; he put his face right there at TJ’s pussy and started using his tongue. That honey-hole of his was real productive today, and he licked it all up, and then TJ felt Harry’s tongue probing into his actual entrance, penetrating him.
TJ closed his eyes and moaned softly. “Yeah, that’s good. Real good.”
Then Harry started moving his lips up and down across that pussy, and TJ started to tremble—especially when the tongue flicked TJ’s clit. That’s where all the pent-up sexual energy was. Girls had tight, wet holes for a man’s cock, but the clit was the best part. Meanwhile, his pussy began to drool, and TJ started grabbing his tits. He couldn’t just stay still; he had to do something. Thankfully, his nipples were thick and sensitive already. He was happy to squeeze them. And so the bikini top came off, and TJ was totally naked.
Chris must’ve gotten tired of squeezing his cock, for he came to the stage next, popping out some larger bills. He lay a Grant below TJ’s face and then pulled his cock out. TJ gave it a long look-over, staring at every inch of it until he was certain that its pulsing head and all its veins were memorized. He looked up at Chris and shook his head.
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