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goodnightallwhites · 4 years

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Your Life in the Black Ruled World By BlackingPacking

Your Life in the Black Ruled World

By BlackingPacking

Submitted: July 24, 2019 Updated: January 7, 2020

You're a young whiteboy in a world ruled by BBC, doing normal things in life- hanging out with your friends, crushing on girls, gossiping, fantasizing a little too much about your sisters, and jerking off your tiny dick to all the women in your life getting fucked my hung black studs.

Contains: BBC, SPH, cucking, dubleg, strong racial content, incest. DO NOT READ unless you have a blacked fetish.

Provided by Hentai Foundry.

Chapter 1 - Wake Up 2

Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby 5

Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral 8

Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary... 13

Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie 16

Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny 20

Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily 26

Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie 31

Chapter 9 - Brunch 36

Chapter 1 - Wake Up

You wake up at around one p.m.- a minor inconvenience, as school won’t start for another few days. Besides, sleeping early was a result of an intense day of white dicklet-jerking, and you’ve spent tons of time jerking your little thing off- a medically recommended 8 cums a day, in order to reduce stress for white boys. Of course, it was hard for your little peanut-sized balls to actually muster up that much sperm, but they manage,

You could hear a mattress banging from your parent’s room- well, your mom’s, since your dad was living in the city full-time, working his ass off for your mom as a good white husband should- with your mom screaming from the good morning fuck her bull, a 55 year-old pro with an 18 incher fit for his dad bod- Damarcus. Your first orgasm of the day was often this, jerking your dick, under 1/8th the size of his.

“A shit! My fucking shitter! It’s so fucking streeeeetched!” She cried, clearly doing anal, which she wasn’t as good at as plenty of other girls, including your sisters.

In about 30 seconds, you came, shooting a few pathetic drops onto your marble-sized balls. You blushed as you hear your mom getting anally destroyed in the next room while your white babydick went flaccid again.

“Fuck baby! Fuck I’m cumming! Ah! Ah. Yes! I’m cumming with your big fucking nigger dick up my poopchute!”

You hear a loud smack as Damarcus slaps her fat white ass as he pounded it from underneath, mighty balls probably swinging wildly.

“Fuck baby, yeah, yeah, gimme another load of your black cum! Awwww yes right up my pooper! Shit there’s so much mmmm,” your mom, despite being 47 years old, is a grade-A slut, who not only had produced 7 snowbunny daughters (and, sadly, you), But is also involved in the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association, organizing dates and orgies for all the women in the neighborhood.

You hear the bed creak as your mom fell on it, exhausted from what was probably hours of sex from godly black cock. You leave the room, still nude, and nervously move your little hairless white body to the door to listen closer. Your smooth, nubby little penis gets hard again.

“Damarcus..” your mom says, “go wake up my useless little bitch of a son so he can clean me up!”

Your little two-incher stands at attention and you nervously push open the door to see your overweight, exhausted redhead mom on the bed while the tall, hairy piece of meat beside her was standing.

“Bitch boy!” Your mom calls you, breathing heavily on her back, “clean me the fuck up!” She demands.

“Clean me too, Gail,” Damarcus commands, shoving his fat, long cock in her face for her to suck all the juices off. Your mom does it wish a smile, loving her taste mixed with black cum.

She always spent hours every morning getting fucked by his big dick, and it showed in the mess of a cream pie, if it could even be called that, spilling out what looked like gallons of thick cum from her pussy and asshole, pouring onto the bed in a hot mess.

“Moooooom,” you whine, “how do I eat all this? It’s not even a cream pie it’s like- like- a cream feast!”

Your mom just laughs, “cream feast? I like it! Now eat it all, you little wimp. Eat mommy’s fucking creamfeast.”

You whine as you climb on the bed and kneel between your moms legs, holding onto her chubby, sweaty thighs for balance as you bent down to suck up the piles of cum that covered her.

It tasted strong and virile, thick and sweet unlike your salty, watery little virgin cums. You sucked up her pussy pie first, wetly cleaning it like a good little beta boy until her puss was bare again. You want to fuck it, to even touch it, but you couldn’t, and even if you could, her pussy was so stretched that her hole was wider than your dicklet was long. Even licking her clit did little besides earn you a smack on the head. She didn’t want any pleasure from her pathetic little son.

Next was her anal cream, an equally sticky mess flowing from her abused asshole. You ate it like candy, sucking and slurping the mix of pussy juice, anal lube, and black cum. It tasted like her butthole, sweet and warm, perfect for a superior man to fuck for ages. Her ass was stretched too, a huge gaping hole in place of her tight pucker. You couldn’t eat her ass like this, but you could scoop the cum out of it.

“I’m done, mom,” you mutter, precum leaking in a thin, weak strand from your short dick.

“Good little whiteboy,” she replied, feeling her now clean, still wet pussy and asshole, giggling as she pleasures herself. “How many times have you cum today?” She said and beckoned you closer as she gave Damarcus one last sloppy kiss on his cock.

You climb over her chubby, but still hourglass-shaped body, “only once mommy.” You mutter.

“Puny dick can’t even cum right. Are you horny? Is that pink little worm hard?”

Almost 2.5 inches bone pressed erect, it sure didn’t look like much in comparison to what she just had.

“Yes... I’m precumming. See it?”

Your mom snorts, yeah, I do. Looks like a spider web. Aren’t you supposed to be above average for a white boy? I bet Damarcus’precum is stronger than your real nut.”

“I-it is.”

“You know it’s been a whole since I last looked at it.... Is it ever gonna grow hair? Or will you just have a babydick forever?”

“Mom... you know I’m white.”

“I know, but there are some whiteboys who have a bit of pubes, or fuzzy balls. You’re just pathetic,” she poked at your ballsack, “and what’s this? A little round lump under your pointy little dick? How tiny are your balls?”

“White boys don’t drop...”

“Sweetie- you’re an idiot. I’m just teasing you! God, white boys are dumb. Of course you’ll never measure up. Your dicks the size of a toe, your balls are so small it doesn’t even look like you have two. Isn’t that funny?”

“I don’t know.. it makes me feel bad.” You complain.

She slaps your little balls, “little bitchboy! You’re supposed to feel bad. Whiteboys don’t get to be happy about their tiny dicks. I love you as a son, but you’re still a fucking loser, got it, microdick?”

“Yes ma’am.."

“Good,” she gives your tight little nutsack a small squeeze before getting up, letting you Marvel at her full, voluptuous, motherly beauty- her ass and tits were round and huge, her belly was full from eating black cum everyday, and her legs were still long and nimble enough to lock around a bull during orgasm.

You were shorter, smaller, skinnier than her, your hair more brown than her hot red bob. You clearly took after your father, a chubby white wimp who your mother loved very dearly, but still loved black men more.

She strutted out of room, butt naked, waving you over, “come on beta boy, bust your little nut then come serve us breakfast.”

Chapter 2 - Good Morning Abby

You hobble into your room and sat on your small bed, squeezing your tiny little lump of a dicklet with two thin fingers. You poke its tip and rub it like a clit, which it was barely bigger than. You knew, at least, that it was above average for a white dick- it was slightly longer than it was wide, and your skinny, weak body meant it could stick out farther. It even got rock hard.

Maybe that was why your mom would harass you so- the hormonal and genetic therapy given to white women, designed for them to have girls almost 80% of the time and for any men to be born exceptionally weak, must not have worked with you. Probably because you were one of two twins, the other being Jenny, of course, who soaked up all the femininity. That didn’t explain why your cocklet couldn’t grow hair. Maybe you were just a mistake. Granted, most white boys were hairless anyways.

Probably, after all, since your mom hadn’t had sex with your dad since you were born, as a punishment for bringing in another white boy into the world. And poor Jenny, having to spend 9 months together with a white boy. She was even bullied at school for it.

You let out a high-pitched whine as you think about how pathetic you are. Nothing gets your teenie weenie going like that. You feel your tiny little nuts tremble as another orgasm comes closer, so you grab a tissue and put it underneath your puny penis. You cum. It’s only one watery drop.

You toss it into your full trash can and walk out of your room. Your sisters hallway and your moms bedroom smelled like sweat and cum. The only time you would sweat was when running or when trying to hold in your ejaculation for over two minutes, and it always smelled more like the girls than the black guys’.

Your house was large and spacious, thanks to how hard your dad worked downtown, not to mention the bonuses your mom got from being a neighborhood organizer. Every woman you knew loved your moms taste in community Bulls.

At the end of the hallway is the curved staircase, down to the open-concept ground floor, which, like the rest of the house, has a soft white and pink palette. As always, you don’t give a second thought about walking around downstairs totally naked. Everyone did so, with women being proud of their beauty, black men of their masculinity, and with white boys having nothing to hide from their superiors.

You hop down the stairs, enjoying the bounce of your body down each step, soft skin jiggling slightly, and your tiny, flaccid baby dick bouncing upon your soft, round balls. Your feet eventually touch the cold marble floor, your chilly skin makes your pink little worm only shrivel up more.

You ignore it, enjoying the feeling of tight, compact smallness as you walk into the kitchen to pop your sister’s food into the microwave. Already there, is Max, the husband of your oldest sister, Abby. Max had a pretty, angular face with round glasses and dirty blond hair that was as stringy as his body, and a small, pointy little penis to match. Abby thought Mac was adorable, but absolutely pathetic as well, often mocking him in front of the whole family. Wimpy little guy couldn’t even afford a house, which is why he

lived with you. Abby, surely, was upstairs with her bull, Julius.

You ask if Max knows how many will come to breakfast, but he only knew his wife and bull would come. Dammit- now you’ll have to go all the way back upstairs to get your sisters up. Max just goes back to scrolling through his friends posts on Snowgram. As with most Snowgram posts, it was girls enjoying the snowbunny lifestyle.

You sigh and walk back upstairs, cold little nub of your dickie getting slightly harder as you smell the sweet aroma of interracial lust, a warmth filling your pathetic little manhood.

First, all the way down the hall, was Abigail and Julius. Technically this was Max’s room too, but you didn’t pay enough attention to your oldest sister’s life to know. You two were never close after all- she was nearly a decade older than you, in her mid twenties now, and as long as you could remember she’d be paying attention to nothing but black guys.

Julius was actually the bull who took Abby’s virginity back when they were in middle school, though they had only been back in contact for a few months, since a bit after she was married. Now he practically lived in the house, and Abby sure was happy to parade around his lean, toned body. He may have been ever so slightly shorter than Max, but he packed a proper BBC, thick and veiny and bulging like a balloon, it’s fat middle looking like the base couldn't hold it up. It sure could inside your sister though. What a whore she was- she’d even let Max fuck her every night. Said she wanted to see who’d get her pregnant first.

You were hot- thinking about your sister so distractedly this afternoon, your dick had gotten hard. A cylinder the size of a pillbug, a single little drop of precum leaking. You’re sure they wouldn’t notice.

Ear against the door, hearing nothing, you let yourself in. On the bed is only Abby, laying and sucking on her fingers, creampie dripping from her pink, used pussy.

“Oh. It’s you,” she says, “you staring, creep? Getting a little stiffie? God,” she sighs as she gets out of bed and stretches. A fat glob of cum slides down from her pussy, hanging for an instant before falling down with a splat. Your penis twitches.

“I-it’s time for breakfast,” you mutter, in awe of your sisters tall, blonde body. She looks like your mom in her younger days, only with blonde hair instead of red, a perfect receptacle for BBC.

“I know. Julius will be coming too. He’s in the bathroom- you can sneak a peak if you want to,” she teases. “Oh, and clean that up.” She goes to stand in front of a mirror, spreading her pure white ass cheeks to show her cum-filled hole, fondling her big bouncy tits, patting her exhausted abs. Abby liked to experiment with positions. She was more muscular before the started eating mom’s cooking again.

You meanwhile just had to make sure that she never noticed all the glances at her you stole as you cleaned up Julius’ thick cum. It really was a day like any other.

After you threw the tissues away, Abby pinches her clit and waves it at you. Even rock hard, you still don’t look much bigger than a clit. If only you could suck that..

Smack

Your butt stung- Abby smacked you! It didn’t hurt much, but it’s embarrassing. You clearly didn’t catch her at a good time, and she was taking her anger out on you, spanking your pale white ass and teasing your tiny dick.

“Not a penis,” she whispered at you, Queen of Spades necklace hanging between her perfect, tanned tits as she disappeared into the bathroom. You figured it was time to go too.

Then you see her phone. It was just lying open on the bed, probably holding all the pictures from her fuck sessions. You just couldn’t resist.

Upon opening it, you’re far from disappointed. His huge dick, Max’s tiny one, all over her naked body. At least a dozen pictures were taken a day- her being fucked in every hole, her mocking Max, her eating her thick creampie. It was a goldmine for a dirty little white cuckold like yourself. With two fingers, you stroked the smooth little hard on as you watch a video of Julius cumming in a glass and Abby bottoms upping it. She did this a few times over the weeks, pouring some on her body, over her pussy, or just to rub into her skin. A few pictures showed Julius cumming on a dress she later wore on a date with Max.

She’d gag on his massive cock with an outstretched arm to film, winking at the camera whenever she wasn’t choking on his length. She’d take it out and let it slap her face, the long, dark, dripping wet rod dwarfing her head.

And her ass- you could never forget your sister’s ass. She’s slimmer than your mom by far, but just made her round, soft ass all the hotter. Julius clearly loved it, eating it out in several pictures. They were taken by him. A video showed why; Abby couldn’t control herself. The pleasure of a black man’s skilled tongue in her sensitive pink asshole made her lips quiver and her eyes roll back in her head. A few other videos show him trying to fuck her ass, keyword trying. He could fit the head in before she started screaming and crying, begging him to either stop or go further. As big as her ass was, her hole wasn’t up to the challenge. All for the better, of course- she wanted him to knock her up. Based on how many creampies she got, he probably already had.

Your furious masturbation let go after barely a minute. You hobble over to cum in the same bin you threw away the tissues, but your ejactulation was less impressive by far, its thin little strands landing on more of your balls than the bin. You got out of there before Abby came out and could harass you. She’d probably be meaner to you than she was to Max. Then again, maybe you should stay...

Chapter 3 - Good Morning, Coral

After Abby, you still have six sisters to wake, and so decide to walk out of her pretty blue-walled room.

Down the hall, on the far side of your little bedroom, came out your mom from her bedroom, giggling like a far younger woman as she pulls Demarcus out too. He’s in shorts and a sleeveless tee, while she’s in an old, too-big t-shirt that covered her big ass, but her wide thighs are exposed. If she was wearing any underwear, you couldn’t tell. She turned around and winked at you, smiling cruelly at your excuse for a member, squeezing her bulls ass as they went downstairs. They’d get the coffee she’d prepared and watch some TV before anything. No rush.

There’s plenty of time to get bullied by any one of your sisters, or even some girls in the neighborhood or at school. White dicks, while cumming twenty times as fast as big black cock, could still go all day if the boy was horny enough. Give it ten minutes, your little balls could totally muster up another drop of cum to squeeze out.

Right across the hall from Abby’s room was the guest bedroom, occupied this summer by your second oldest sister, Coral. A university student with hair redder than your moms and more tattoos than almost any girl you knew, she may be the nicest to you of any of your sisters. She’d never enjoy sex with a penis like yours, of course, but she found white boys cute and funny, and always made sure not to point out their inferiority around them. Most of her tattoos weren’t even of the snowbunny kind- her arms and back were covered in vibrant vines and flowers, with only the occasional queen of spades tattoo- a vine one around her thigh, a ‘snowbunny’ flourish on her shoulder, and a squat spade with a Q in the center on her right freckly buttcheek.

You knock on the door. No response. Ear against the off-white door, you turn the knob to go in. As sweet as she is, Coral’s still a girl- well, a young lady now- with needs, and the chief of those needs was a big cock to fill those holes with. She got plenty black cock at university, but she was the kind of brightly haired, round-glasses, carefree art hoe who loved herself a good dildo. Of which she’s got plenty.

That’s what greeted you as you walked into her room- she was passed out on the bed, laying on her back, a dildo barely in her pussy and a buttplug firmly in her ass. The dildo was fat and blue, with a rounded base under the shaft and round, soft balls, molded to have large, thick veins that seemed to alone be bigger than what you were packing. You couldn’t see much of her buttplug other than that it was a rubbery black, and it seriously stretched her asshole out.

On her desk and shelf were the rest of her collection, an impressive two dozen dildoes, some of which she’d had since high school. She also had some old ones somewhere, in a drawer or in a box somewhere, but those little twigs, silicone little cylinders and finger-sized vibrators, her favorite middle school toys that she wouldn’t let mom pass down to her little sisters, could never satisfy her anymore. She’d rather use them than a white dick, but that wasn’t a high bar.

Her collection’s size humiliated you. The ones she has out, which she had been using in recent years, were almost all in the double digits in terms of inches. Her smallest still dwarfs you, an 8-inch pink noded vibrator. She has a few cylindrical vibrators, the purple one squatter than the green one, both under the 10 inch mark, along with an 8.5 inch warm up dildo, with a fleshy texture and suction cup bottom.

Curious are the colors. There were many colorful ones, and even some translucent vibrators, but plenty of her collection were huge white cocks. Some are more realistic than others, but at least four or five have similar beige flesh and ruddy pink heads. Your mother sure thinks it’s weird that Coral would ever enjoy seeing a white cock in her, even an unrealistically huge one made of silicon, but honestly it doesn’t make you feel much better about your woefully inadequate size.

She still has black ones, of course- a perfectly black, smooth two-pronged clitoral vibrator sits in the center of her collection, it’s with twice your length in places. On one side is an empty space, probably for Big Blue, the one in her right now, and on the other side is a deep chocolate god of a dildo, at least 18 inches in shaft length, thick and girthy as a football player, and just as black. Why Coral didn’t use this one every night is beyond you- hell, why Coral didn’t bring home one of the many black men she’d posted pictures with on social media stories is beyond you. Imagining her with both the dildos and the bulls, you poke your half-hard dick with one finger.

Big Blue slides out of Coral’s pussy, the tip still dripping wet from the hours of orgasms it must have brought her last night. She stirred, waking up as she saw the light peeking through her blinds .“Hey, anyone there?” She groans in a tired voice, rubbing her eyes.

You turn around, covering your small whiteness with one hand. “Just me, Coral.”

She sits up, running her hands through her scarlet curls, “oh, hey little bro. Can you put big blue up for me?”

You nod, knowing to never disobey a white goddess, picking up the large, floppy sex toy with both hands, mouth wide as you stare at it. As you put it back, you let your small hand fall from your equally wimpy crotch. Your sister notices.

“Aww, you have a little stiffy! Don’t you usually jerk off by now?”

“I-I do,” you respond, “I’ve already came two times today.”

“Well, guys do get like that.”

You nod in agreement, “Mpm and Abby’ve been shown that too today..”

“Well, you’re just like their bulls aren’t you? Just.. a bit on the smaller side.”

“A bit?”

“Oh come on, lil bro, I’m being nice! Not all girls love giant black, two foot fuckin things! Is there something wrong with me thinking white guys are cute?”

You look at her collection, then back at her. “I guess not.”

“And you’re cute too you know- I know mom and the others give you a hard time, but you’ve always been bigger for a white boy. They’re just making sure you don’t let it get to your head.”

“You think I’m cute?” You ask.

“Well, yeah?” She stretches, getting out of bed. She’s a bit taller than you, with freckles on her shoulders and perky breasts, “who cares that I’m your sister. I mean, I’ve had sex in public in front of mom! You don’t think it’s weird, right?”

You shake your head.

“Yeah- plus, plenty of girls have had sex with their black half brothers. I’ve heard Abby and Lee did it a few years back, if you could believe it.” Lee was your half-brother, who your mom had between Abby and Coral with an old bull. He was off at college now, and was definitely a sign that black genes were more dominant than white. And you could believe it.

You blush as you realize you’ve been dripping a tiny strand, thin as a spiders web, of precum down to her floor.

“Aww, look at that! You don’t make too much more, do you? I know black guy’s precum is like, way thicker than even like your cum, but like, that thing doesn’t need much to lube itself up, right?” “Thats- what they teach everyone in school,” you respond, gathering weak precum on your finger.

“I slept in biology,” she shrugged, “but if that’s a lot for you, does that mean you have to jerk off?”

You blush, “Y-yes. I’m very horny again.”

“Awww!” she smiled lovingly, “Wanna do it now? It’d be really cute.”

You know you shouldn’t. You are white after all, and her body should be reserved for black bulls. Your mom would get so mad... but you’re really horny. You look up and down the tattoos on her arms, the milk white tits and her strawberry nipples. You remember how Coral could be mean too, like when your dad had said her tattoos were unbecoming, and she threw the insult right back at him when he was jerking off his tiny, old, white dick while mom was being spitroasted in her room.

That will be you one day, jerking off as your mom or sisters or wife or daughters were blacked. If you’re even allowed to see it when you were older. You’d love to see massive black cocks pound perfect, pale white pussy for the rest of your life.

You reach a hand down and start pulling at your little underdeveloped dick. Even the skin of your tiny balls is pulled as you jerk it. It’s all one tiny little organ.

She squats down, “Aww! It’s like..” You stare at her sexy body, hoping you can be lucky enough to one

day have a girl as nice as her (in more ways than one), “Like a-a little paperclip! You see it, right? Small, kinda round, fun to play with.” She pokes it.

“Coraaaaal.”

“Sorry little bro-” she got up, “ah, I shouldn’t, but-” she rubbed her hands all over her body.

“I’m so hard Coral....” you mutter, barely a whisper.

“I know,” she gasps, touching herself, “you’re adorable. Do you- well, are you a virgin?”

You nod.

“Pfft, what am I asking, of course you’re a virgin. And I’m not, I’m sure you remember when I got my virginity taken by a BBC. But I sometimes want something a little more low-key. A little... smaller,” she sat on the bed, “Do you wanna try and fuck me?” she spread her legs.

“T-to fuck you?” You stutter, holding your breath so that your tiny cock doesn’t spurt out its buildup of droplets of cum.

“Yeah. It wouldn’t be my first time with white boy penetrating me, or, like, trying to penetrate, but yours looks a tiny bit bigger, so I’m sure I can at least feel it. And it won’t be weird because I’m not like a virgin or anything. You’ve jerked off to me before, right?”

You nod. You’ve jerked your dicklet to all your sisters of course.

“So what’s the deal?” “I’m.. just small,” you mumble.

She snorts. “So? It’s about the thrill. The taboo. Learn to live a little, kid. Of course I won’t be satisfied. Who cares? Just have fun.” She invites you with those long, colorful legs.

You give in, “I didn’t think I’d lose my virginity like this...” you mutter as you walk up to her, shuffling awkwardly as you point your little needle-dick to her wide pussy. It looked weird, the same, weak pink color of white penis and white pussy coming together. You can see why- her well-fucked, hot, didlo-loving cunt utterly dwarfs your pussy. Forget black guys, white pussy’s better than what’s between your legs. You’re scared for what comes next.

“Jeez,” she teases, “could you be any less graceful?”

You blush hotly as you feel the tip of your dicklet touch her wetness, muttering an apology under your breath. “I’m putting it in..” “Hey, I can actually feel it,” she chirps, laying down as she lets you do all the work.

You simply try what you’ve seen from your mom, sisters, and the porn they show on TV. You put your dick as far into her pussyhole as you can, barely touching a few of the walls in there, and certainly not pleasuring them.

It feels rock hard, weak white nerves stirring up hormones in your addled little brain as your head spins from pleasure. The residual wet warmth of your sister’s pussy after her night of masturbation feels incredible. Your heart pounds as your dicklet quivers.

“C’mon little bro, I believe in you,” she mutters.

You listen to her. Yeah, you’re a whiteboy, but you’re above average! And you’re decent enough, in one way or another, to have your hot-ass sister fuck you! So you know that you can make this worth it. Maybe even-

You lose your train of thought as you thrust in and out of her. That’s barely anything, so they’re tiny thrusts, of course, but that only makes it feel like you’re pounding into her soft, unblemished inner thighs, tattoo-less hips, and horny incestuous pussy even more. It’s not like what a black guy would do, it’s what YOU- You totally lose whatever you’re thinking of as your eyes roll back in your head, you cum at in no time at all.

Instinctually, you pull it out and let it drip on the floor. If you’d impregnated any white girl, mom would kill you.

As you let the last droplet fall, you look at your sister’s loving face.

“Awww man...” all that love, and still, she’s disappointed.

Chapter 4 - Good Morning Mary...

You leave corals room embarrassed, tiny dick shrinking back up into your smooth little crotch until the flaccid nub disappears

You walk out of her room and sigh, looking at your disappointing size. Your balls buzz, wanting more. You’ll jerk off again before and after brunch, at least. Stream some live blacked, edge to the Humiliation Channel for all of 30 seconds, some very fun things. Such was your life everyday, jerking off to massive, dark, powerful, swinging, hung black cock as BBC tattooed white girls take them in their horny pink pussies.

Either way, next you had to get the rest of your sisters up, going down in the jack and Jill bedrooms, which shared a bathroom, occupied by the twins, both seniors at your school- On the left is Ellie, a big, curvy girl with an ass and tits to rival your mom, whose body shape she matched most of all the girls, albeit more athletically dispositioned. She’s a cheerleader and volleyball player, and definitely in the top 5 most popular girls at your high school, meaning she always had a black boy up in her panties. Her current boyfriend is Andre, basketball player, a center big enough to be a footballer, who you know was packing over 18 inches of blackness. A massive, ripe banana to your grape.

On the right is Mary, Ellie’s polar opposite. Thin and flat, she’s never had a boyfriend, and only been fucked by a BBC on her birthday, when young girls typically were, and in the occasional threesome with her sister and whoever she dated at the time. As some girls put it, Mary’s a femcel- shut in and bitter, she’s resentful of your sisters for being more attractive than her and at black boys for not finding her sexy enough. She especially hates white boys though, never missing a chance to let her frustration out on you. Honestly, it’d be better for her to just be normal. She spends most of her days reading and writing porn stories about BBC, instead of just getting laid. You can’t ever say that, of course, or you’d get your ass beat and your balls smacked.

You’d still fuck Mary in a heartbeat though. She’s certainly hotter than your hand on your babydick. Or rather, your fingers. You’d give anything for a shot at a white girls vagina, even right after you disappointed Coral. If only one would show any interest...

You’re a sick little perv aren’t you? A schoolboy, a little white wimp who fantasizes about fucking his sisters, (mostly) beautiful young women who no one who isn’t black stands a chance with. You mentally scold yourself, sounding like Mrs. Bain, your school's discipline officer. You resist the urge to reach your hand down and yet again pull at your tiny, smooth cock, and actually do what you’re here for.

You go to the door on the right, knocking gently before opening it. It seems everyone sleeps in on summer weekends. Mary is passed out on her desk, butt ass naked, loose, small breasts hanging down. It wasn’t the most attractive, but neither was she. Your dicklet was still hard.

Balls aching, you walk up to her, light feet not making noise on the soft carpeted floor. Her laptop is still open in front of her, and her right hand is barely on it. You could easily see she what she’s been doing...

Since Mary is your only sister (well, only sister who was of age) who doesn’t get regularly fucked, you’ve figured that she’s gotta finger herself A LOT to make the moans you hear from her room... and she has to have something to stimulate all that... and, well, your curiosity gets the better of you.

You press the power button on the laptop and the screen turns on, showing you what your sister was pleasuring herself to in the wee hours of this morning. Several tabs were open- some erotica, some porn, all BBC. She has pictures and videos of enormous black cocks, stuffed inside dozens of white girls. Some in pussy, some in ass, some getting run train, all looking ecstatic. Familiar stuff to you- your sister has similar tastes. No white dicks though- she seems to like the kinds where those tiny things are kept behind the camera. You can’t really blame her.

What really catches your eye is a porn page of Mr. Africa- the man with the biggest BBC on earth, nearly three whole feet long. He could touch his chest with the lip of its mean purple head, and it dwarfed every white woman who faced it. You know Mr. Africa has a black wife, as no white girl has ever managed to take his godly cock, though plenty had tried, and plenty more want to try. Including Mary, it seems. How stupid- Mr. Africa was WAY out of any league she could be in. No way would she even get the chance.

You also notice a story open on her Word doc- a page titled ‘Taking Mr. Africa.’ Of all things it was a fapfiction, 2nd-rarer erotica written about her and some of her few friends having sex with Mr. Africa’s unrivaled cock. She went into vivid detail, writing about how he’d pick up her thighs and slam his ‘monster dick’ across her torso, his huge, grapefruit-sized balls against her weak pussy, his dick going all the way to her cleavage. It seems her self-insert has bigger tits than she really does.

More paragraphs, about how her friends helped her suck his godly cock, how 8 hands could be on it and not touch at all, how his huge balls smelled like pure sex, making them drool as they smothered their faces. Mary even wrote herself worshipping his ass, eating it out. You know your mom eats her lovers ass often, but you’ve only seen it once. You wonder how many times Mary, just a year older than you, has. She’s clearly seen or read about it some way, based on the detail she puts into describing how she kisses and tongues his black asshole, loving the taste of his anus in her mouth, while her arms wrap around his huge, strong thighs to feel his manly black balls, too big to even fit in her hands.

You realize how much you want your ass eaten, or at least played with. You’ve been offered BBC dildoes, but never practiced enough to take them. You weren’t a sissy, but you start to consider fingering your butt sometime soon. Maybe a girl would even eat it- after all, yours was bald, pink, and smooth, unlike the rugged manliness of a black man’s.

You read on, how her 3 friends all work on his cock, one at the tip and two at the sides. How they can’t even come close to fitting any of him in their mouths is written about, along with a description of his thick veins and strong pelvic muscles. She wrote that one of his veins is thicker than most white cocks she’s seen. You’re pretty sure she’s only seen yours and dads, but still, you have to check. Clicking on another tab, you go to his webpage and look at the public pictures of his actual cock- it’s depressingly massive, looking as long as your leg, while you have to pinch your legs together when you compare. His veins might just be thicker than your whole dick. It’s not called a micropenis for nothing.

You keep reading- how he fucks all of them, getting a half or a quarter of his dick into the others, while Mary cums the second his tip sinks into her hole.

‘I squirt more than I ever have before, the arc of my juices flying further than I thought they could. Still, as far as my orgasm sent them, they didn’t reach Mr. African’s crotch. His cock was that long.’

You gulp as you read that, sore little cocklet hard again. You use her laptop’s touch pad to look at other tabs, many with BBC. One has a comparison of the average white boy, the worlds smallest black man, the worlds biggest white boy, and of course, Mr. African. The average white boy, of course, is a little under two inches or so. You already know that the smallest white penis is impossible to know, because so many are less than a tenth of an inch long. The smallest black man, you’re surprized to know, is a tiny 4.5 inches, not much smaller though than the world record white boy, 5 inches. All are dwarfed by even the average BBC, of course.

Your sister stirs, mumbling “Babe... uhhhhh... babe.. Gimme... gimme that cock...” she said, wetly smaking her words together as she reaches out her hand, grabbing right in front of you.

You blush at the thought. Her hand was right there, wanting to grab a cock. Sure, yours was a little white dick, but you wanted it, she wanted it, so--

You shuffle forward, letting her fingers rest on your white boi clitty. They rub against it, before starting to almost pet the tiny thing involuntarily.

"Is thissa cock?" she mutters, eyes closed, "it's smallll.... it's gotta be soft... is it hard? Why'ssit hard.... are you a white boy?" she snickers, "white boy white boy... tiny dick white boy.... thass dumb... I only like black guys.... nobody likes whiteboys... why's it so hard and small?...." she strokes it, easily feeling the entirety of its length with a few fingers, surprised by the tininess. She feels up your little balls, "unnf... not black in the sack... either.... it's like a baby's..." she giggles, letting her hand slip off your throbbing tininess. You jump, not wanting the stimulation to end, and grab her hand to push her palm up against your smooth little member. Her hand engulfs the miniscule thing, feeling warm and soft. You nearly cum. But then- she jumps.

"What the fuck?!" she yells, looking at you, "Were you- using me to jerk off?!" she sees her laptop, gasps, and swings her leg up to kick your pathetic balls, "and you looked at my porn!? WHAT THE FUCK?"

You fall onto your hands and knees in pain, muttering an apology, "please don't tell mom- I-I was just supposed to wake you up for breakfast. I didn't mean too..."

"Stupid little fucking whiteboy can't control himself. Figures. AND you saw me naked. Gross. get the fuck out of my room, bitch, I'll be down for breakfast after I'm done washing my hands."

You can't do anything but do as she says, and leave her room, hands between your legs, hoping she doesn't tell mom.

Chapter 5 - And Good Morning Ellie

You close Mary’s door behind you as you put your hand over your white boy dick. It shudders. Small size making it weak against the cold hallway. Your tiny balls are clenched up, ready to cum. If you stroked it once, or even just pushed it down, you’d cum. You know it.

You walk down the hallway to the banister above the main area of the house. There’s mom, eating Demarcus’ ass on the couch, while Abby’s hubby jerks off with a tissue. Mom never ate ass, but made an exception for her favorite huge, old black lover. She was messy, sloppy, drooling all over Damarcus’ older asshole, licking every inch of it. She probably did it because he’d do it to her- Damarcus adores eating ass, and your moms fat, full ass is probably the best he could get. She rarely came from butt stuff, but that was mostly because her asshole was tight. Both were enjoying this now. Breakfast might have to wait a little.

You still have to go and wake up your other sisters though, so you probably shouldn’t tug one out here. You turn around, walking back to the twin bedrooms, this time to Ellie’s door. You rub the straining tip of your penis, trying hard as it can to reach that next half inch, as you knock on the door. You stop before you cum, right as it opens.

You’re greeted by a huge, tall black boy, maybe a few years older than you, leaner than Damarcus. His hair is in a short fade and he’s unshaven on both his face and body, all covered in sweat. Right in front of your body swings his massive, half-hard black cock. It has an even width with a very round head, easily the length of your torso. It twitches, and pushes up against you. You can feel it’s warmth, it’s weight, it’s wetness. Your sisters been fucking this massive pole. Impulsively, you cum.

Your face turns bright red as you realize Andre, Ellie’s boyfriend, is watching your tiny penis dribble cum into the carpet. He cracks up laughing, slamming his chest with a big, strong hand and the other one in a fist in front of his mouth, yelling “Yooooooo-“

He steps back laughing as you feel horribly embarrassed. You should’ve known this was gonna happen. As he steps back, Ellie comes forward.

God, she’s gorgeous, tanned and curvy, thick legs strapped with muscle. She could probably crush you between those thighs- and your dicklet? Forget it.

“What’s going on?” She asks. She’s naked too, and her long, strawberry blonde hair is wet with sweat. You wonder how she was fucked through the night. She didn’t have to wonder what you stayed up until 4 am doing, cumming twice every hour since midnight.

“Your lil bitch brother came right in front of me!” Andre laughs on her bed. He sits on the messy, damp sheets.

Ellie’s eyes widen and she to cracks up. “HA HA!” she points at you, walking over without bothering to cover her huge tits or perfectly smooth, tanlined crotch. “Bro- did you seriously cum at Andres’ dick? I

mean, it’s fuckin great, almost like nineteen, twenty inches, but seriously? I didn’t know you were a faggot!”

You blush, unable to move. She walks, no, struts right over to you with a mocking look on her face.

“I-I’m not gay,” you insist.

“Then what are you? If you like men you’re gay, sissy boy. I’ll lick pussy, especially if it has black cum in it, and I don’t give a fuck about if you call me a lesbo. I hear you moaning like a little girl in your room, porn on your tv. Ya watch sissy boy porn, with little white “boy,”” she makes air quotes, “butts being fucked by bbc? Little sissyclits being compared to things like that?” She points to Andre behind her, huge cock swinging as he walks to put his bag of XXL condoms in his letterman’s pocket, “or how your tiny little baby balls shoot watery fucking loads while black dick creams your ass?”

You can’t keep up with Ellie’s motormouth. She was an excellent speaker- always hyped her team up before games, and always new how to make you feel bad. She’s probably your moms favorite. You’d just have to tell the truth.

“I c-cummed,” you stutter, “I came because I saw how wet his dick was, and... I imagined it fucking you!”

That just made her laugh even more, “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She bent over, letting her big perfect tits flop as they adjusted to gravity. “You little cuck faggot- I’m pretty sure that still makes you gay.”

“I’m nottt!” You insist, staring at her beautiful tits bounce with every breath and movement she makes. Your pin dick gets hard again, desperately wanting to blow a little load onto your sisters heavenly tits. A single nipple could probably smother your miniscule hard on as her massive, fit ass was clapped by a huge cock.

“Look Andre, he’s getting hard again!” She points, struggling to no collapse from laughing at you.

“Babe, he’s a whiteboy, what do you expect? Let him have his fun,” said Andre in a cool, deep voice, walking out of the bathroom looking perfectly clean with smooth, chocolatey skin and a cock hung like your arm, “Ay, whiteboy, wanna play a game?”

“A- a game?” You ask. You try to avoid staring at his half hard megacock, then try to avoid looking jealously at his lean and roundedly muscled body, until you look at his face.

“Yeah. I’m horny, youre horny, how about we jerk off and see how we compare? I’ll go easy on you, totally loose, no stamina, got it?”

“Well- I can't do much-“

“C'mon boy, it’ll be fun. Did Ellie ever tell you bout how when I was fucking Mrs. Danksworth, all her family members watched? I’d say you’re bigger than all those white boys.”

“Not that that’s saying much,” laughs Ellie on the bed.

“Okay- but we need to get breakfast!” You insist.

“Won’t take too long. I’ll even stand further back than you. I wanna see how that little thing shoots,”

“You’re fucking gay too, Andre,” laughs Ellie.

“So what I like fuckin white boys? They look like girls anyways!” Both laugh at you.

“I still need to wake up Jenny and Katie and-“

“Cmon lil bro, we know you’re a quick shot!” Mocks Ellie.

“Fine,” you surrender like a typical white boy.

“Aight,” he says, “Ellie, put on a show with that gorgeous ass of yours.”

She smiled, bending over on the bed and sticking her ass up, beginning to shake it in wide circles. It ripples with muscles and the smallest two few of fat, swollen from the thousands of squats she religiously did just to show off to black guys. She warmed up a bit, the broke into a full on twerk.

“Mm babe, twerk that ass,” says Andre, hand going all the way up and down his massive pole of a cock, jerking off as his girlfriend, your sister, twerks like a pro. He arches is back and relaxes, knowing that whatever he does it’ll be more than satisfying for any horny white girl.

You jerk your little cock to her too, but to hope that you can clean it from her asscheek instead of the carpet, you hobble forward, hand tightly around and totally hiding your hairless dick. Your little balls clench as your hear the sound of her ass clapping right in front of you. You smell the sweet, horny sweat of her legs too, the kind she always smelled like when she came home after winning a volleyball game and getting fucked in the locker room. This was your weakness.

It was all your weakness- Ellie was always the ‘dominant’ sister of her age range, as both Coral and Abby were quite a bit older than her, as compared to how the two sets of twins in your family were so close. Ellie always domineered over you along with mom, and was influential in Jenny’s development as a BBC slut just like all the rest of them. Ellie was often sweet, but whenever people from school were around, she was crueler than Mary. Just getting to jerk off to her twerking ass, for real, not in your 3 am fantasies, was a blessing.

“Mmm fuck,” moaned Andre, dick wet and slick and with sloppy noises to boot, “I’m not even gonna try to control myself- I’m cummin fast as I can!”

You keep jerking off, instead of using a few fingers, instead using your full hand, and your other to massage your balls. You wish you could control yourself, but honestly, it’s impossible to take your hand off your cold little baby dick, especially with Andre’s hot, massive member just feet away. You hope you can at least control your orgasm better than ever before, so that you and Andre can meet in the middle for cumming on Ellie. It wasn’t likely though. You really were a quickshot.

Surprisingly enough with a strong, manly, “ARRGGGHHHHH,” from Andre, he aggressivley slammed his hand against his crotch and threw his head back as he came, huge, hanging black balls tightening up to deliver yet another load in this room, already smelling deliciously like black cum.

He shot a massive arc of hot, thick ropes onto Ellie, practically cumming on her from across the room, landing in thick, strong pools on her back and bed, with one drop going splat on her sheets just close enough for her to lick. Another lands on her asscheek, a big glob of superior cum jostled by her fast ass-shaking.

She stops twerking, using her thin hands to gather up her boyfriend’s delicious cum and eat it right up. Thanks to how much she twerked, all the cum blasted into her guts was upset, and soon came flowing from her used butthole.

You waddle forward, feeling the little squirt inside your crotch that tells your excuse for a dick you’re about to cum. You do, lifting your thin hips to try and get as close to her butt as possible,

You cum, tiny little spurts jumping out of the quivering tip of your dick. Some land on the muscular upper portion of her ass, well-lit by her girly ceiling fan. Most just grazed the supple skin of the curve of her ass, little drops barely sticking onto them. Some fell onto her feet.

“Goddamn! I was like 6 feet back and I still came farther than you, boy!” laughed Andre.

“And nobody was surprised,” smiled Ellie evily, holding her hand between her soft thighs to cup the cum flowing from her asshole and closing her legs so they didn’t drip further. You stare at your little droplets sprinkled on them, feeling that this was your best orgasm today. You knew what came next.

Ellie stretched out her right leg, the one you came on. "Lick it up!" she demanded. Your cleaning duties were not a surprise.

If black cum tasted like thick, sweet and salty drink, and girl's juice was sticky sweet nectar, than your wimpy little fluids were probably best described as sugar water.

You swallowed every drop.

Chapter 6 - A Good Morning to Jenny

After sucking the sweet sweat and your thin cum from Ellie’s goddess ass, you told them to go down for brunch soon. Your face was beet red the whole time.

You excused yourself, waking across the hall to your room to check your phone for messages. Some from your friends, all boys. Why would girls text you of all people anyways?

After that, you went to the room next to yours, but on the other side. While on the right wall, where the bed was up against, was your mom’s room, the other side, to the left, was your twin sister, Jenny’s room.

Jenny has light auburn hair and a thin frame and, like you, above average assets. For you, it was an extra almost-inch to your penis, but for her, it was perfectly smooth skin, especially for her big perky tits and round sexy ass. The only blemishes on her were three freckles on the bridge of her nose, which might have made her cuter.

She was probably the sister you knew best, bro your twin. You often had the same classes together and would even help her send nudes to her boyfriends sometimes, but she also had a rough edge. She was sort of Ellie’s opposite, who was nice in public but loved tormenting you in private. Jenny was always cruel to you at school, but was rather nice at home. “It’s just social shit. No need to get so pissy about it,” she told you when you once asked why she loved joining in when you were being bullied. “I actually really like you, bro, but what would the girls think if I showed it? Besides, little white dicks are literally always so funny.”

You didn’t like that part of her. Yeah, gossiping after school and talking about movies and books and tv was fun, but she was always cold when you wanted her to be consistent in her affection. You wish you’d gotten more out of everything you’ve done for her. You’ve made her lunches, shaved her pussy, helped her in homework. You even told her the penis sizes of every white boy in the grade. Nobody but Jenny and you knew you did that. If she cared enough to keep the secret, of course.

Still, you knew that once school started, she’d become a total sadist to you. You just figured it was how white girls were. Maybe you should learn your place better.

You open her door. Her room had girly lavender furniture, with a desk, nightstand, shelf, and dresser all the same color wood, with the same white carpet as everywhere else in the upstairs, and pale rosy walls. The room looked enchanting with her lacy white curtains, but it was freezing.

She always kept her room cold, while you liked it warm. It makes your balls feel like they could swing just a little bit, and your dick hang a few fractions of an inch lower. This cold air makes your ballsack wrinkle up against your little whiteboy taint like a lump, and your pee pee shrivels inside your body until it looks like a little bug bite.

Jenny especially liked it when dicks were really tiny. Yours especially.

She had never had a white boyfriend, and only had a few flings with black boys in the past 2 years of high school. Now, though, you see someone next to her in bed. It’s a long, thin, smooth black hand over her shoulder as she sleeps.

“Jenny?” You whisper, trying to get her up. You poke her cheek to make her stir, but then feel some weird texture on it. You realize this is the same thing you often woke up feeling in your smooth, hairless white tummy, but much thicker.

It’s cum. Your twin sisters face is covered in cum!

You pull down the covers to expose her body. She’s totally naked, and beautiful as ever. Her tits had gotten even rounder since the last time you took nudes for her. Her pubic hair was shaved into a cute, neat little landing strip. You’re jealous of her hair down there.

On the other side of her, you almost think it’s a girl with how lean the deep black body was. But you know Jenny wasn’t a lesbian, and all of the black guys at your school are manlier than this. So what gives?

Then the body turns over, and you see why Jenny was sleeping with him. He has an average black dick, a hugely long thing, even though it’s half hard at most. It’s longer than your arm, and very smooth. Almost as smooth as your immature teeny white thing. Weird.

Then Jenny stirred. “Wha..” she blinked, rubbing her hand from her sexy belly button to her puss. That’s one of moms mannerisms. She does it after she got fucked.

“Jenny!” You whisper, covering your microdick with your little hand, “who is that guy?”

“Wha- oh, shit!” She jumps up quickly, but with enough grace to not wake the boy who fucked her up. She gets on her feet, being a hair taller than you despite technically being younger, and puts her hands on your shoulders. “Please don’t tell mom about him. Pretty please?”

“H-hey Jenny,” you stutter, scared of how close her pussy and tits to the wimpier dick in the room, “why would she care? She’s happy with the rest fucking any guys they like here. What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s just..” she blushes. You were one of the only people Jenny would let herself blush in front of. Well, at home at least, at school she loved bullying you and all your tiny dicked friends for that exact reason. She continues, “he's my boyfriend!”

You pause. “Jenny, that’s great! How long have you been dating?”

“Three months,” she admits.

“That’s so wonderful! Your longest boyfriend ever! Why haven’t you told anyone?” You’re genuinely happy that she’s in a relationship with a black guy with such a long dick. It makes you happy that she’ll be fucking that thing every night for the next few months. And a little horny.

“We aren’t public yet. So you’d better not tell anyone. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” you say, backing up from her naked body. She really is a beautiful girl, with perky tits that bounce like gel packs, with a marvelously thin body and just enough flesh on her tummy to be squeezable. You can’t see her ass, but just thinking of the round, perked thing makes the tiny, straw-like rod of your micropenis buzz at its very base, deep inside your pathetic, cum-eating, horny little servile white boy body.

It’s not fair how effortlessly she looks so good, when your white boy body was so unimpressive, with a featureless torso, narrow shoulders, and skinny arms. You loved her for it though.

“And stop checking me out!” she snaps with a hushed whisper. “Why are all white boys such incestous little creeps?”

“D-didn’t you have me shave your taint once when you were face timing Lee after you traded nudes?” You try to sound cocky in your defence, but your stutter makes it sound wimpy. It was cocky, if cockiness was applied to tiny white cocks.

“Shut up,” she turns redder, “I’m warning you! Besides, it doesn’t count if they’re half brothers. And black!”

“Okay, okay,” You say, trying to whisper again as the black guy on the bed stirred. He didn’t look too strong, but you were always afraid of how bad any black guy could hurt you. Especially with a cock like that. It looked like a skyscraper! Yours was, at best, a house. Not even this house, this house was two stories and an attic. Like a one story house. You shudder, trying to shake the thought of huge black dicks compared to the misplaced pinkie toe on your crotch after how much Ellie called you gay. “So,” you say, trying to get back on subject, “Why do you wanna keep this a secret? And who is he?”

She gets really close to your face, like she was scared mom would hear, even though she’s obviously downstairs, moaning while Damarcus fucks her. “His name’s Jaylon, and he’s gonna be a freshman starting this next year.”

“A freshman?” you ask, realizing why he didn’t look as manly “Wait, so you started dating him back when he was in-”

“I know!” she hushes.

“By the time he’s our age we’ll be starting college!”

“I know!” she grabs you again, “I met him last year as a student ambassador. He’s a really, really good distance runner. Not the fastest or the strongest, but he had stamina like nobody the talent scouts have ever seen,” she says.

“Stamina?” you joke.

“Yeah,” she breathes hotly, biting her lower lip and staring off into space with her doe eyes. You look at her little nose freckles and feel her cold hands on her arms. Your little dick moves a little, getting just a

tiny bit out of its teenie weenie shelter. “He was so fucking good last night. Came like a firehose.”

Very recently, you remember how Jenny said that you came like a leaky faucet.

“But... he’s just a kid,” you say defensively.

“Blah, blah,” she backs up, crossing her arms, “You know you aren’t even half the man he is.”

You feel embarrassed. Your clitty likes it.

“So... Jenny’s dating a guy who isn’t even a freshman yet...” you say to yourself.

That gets her upset, as expected. You know your sister. She’s the only person you’ve ever been able to act confident in front of. That’s been increased by the long summer meaning she hasn’t publicly humiliated you once. That would soon change.

“Don’t you dare fucking tell anyone. Please, please don’t! I’ll literally do anything!”

“Anything?” You ask her, thinking of Coral. “C-c-can I fuck you?” you stutter excitedly.

She stops. “Can you.. What?”

You suddenly turn very red.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re fucking gross. You really wanna fuck Jaylon’s sloppy seconds? He may be younger than you, but his cum is probably, like, ten times thicker than anything your wimpy little balls ever whipped up. You really want that?”

You nod, stroking your tiny worm to hardness.

She sighs. “Fine. But you’ll literally never tell a soul, even after we go public. That’s not your place. And you’d better not make a sound, or Jaylon will kill you,” she adds venomously.

“I promise,” you say

“I sure won’t be making a peep,” she rolls her eyes.

You waddle over to her with your dickie between two fingers.

“Ugh,” she closed her eyes, “Just stop touching it! You know I hate little white dicks.”

“S-sorry,” you mutter, licking your lips like a little pervert as you wrap your arms around your twin sister’s as you slowly raise your effeminate crotch to meet hers. With them very close together, your nubby little dick is finally close enough to rub against the folded opening to her pussy. She closes her eyes. You get ready to go into your second pussy today, and have sex for the second time in your life.

But then, as the weak, pink tip of your puny penis pushed open her labia, her hole gapes open, and out

runs a huge glob of thick, pearly cum.

The fat drop of cum that Jaylon had shot in her pussy hours ago comes flowing out with a bubbly pop. It falls right onto your dick, and that one, single drop of nut covers your entire penis. If your dicklet was a caterpillar, this thick, sticky cum was its cocoon. Some even gets some on your balls. You don’t know if that says more about how much cum Jaylon’s balls make, or how truly tiny white boys’ dicks were.

Either way, the way the hot, sticky fluid felt all over your shaky little penis was too much. It actually sticks to your penis, unlike any pussy, which is far two wide for you to feel anything. You moan pathetically as you enjoy this cum on your dick. It’s too much for you. You cum, shooting out maybe two little drops. They get lost in Jaylon’s.

“What’s happening?” she opens her eyes as more drops of cum flow down out of her pussy, actually pleasuring her, which she didn’t expect you to do. “Oh,” she says, trying not to laugh, “You got my creampie. Told you you’d be fucking sloppy seconds.”

You don’t do anything as you let more hot cum drip from her cunt to your smooth little crotch. Your face is beet red.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I- I already came,” you choke.

She really laughed then “Seriously? You didn’t even fucking put it in me? You came just by feeling his cum?”

You nod, “It’s just... so hot.”

“Well, it is better than anything that could come out of your little dick,” she ruffles your hair. Suddenly, Jaylon starts to get up. “Fuck,” she whispers, “If you don’t wanna get you ass kicked, clean it all off yourself! Make sure not one drop hits the floor! I know mom makes sure you’re an expert cleaner!”

You obey her, scooping up his huge loads of cum and your tiny little one off your body with your hands, pouring it into your mouth and licking your fingers clean. Then you put your mouth on her pussy, pushing her back into her nightstand, and suck all the fluid you can out of her.

“What’s goin’ on?” asks Jaylon as he sits up.

“My little brother is just cleaning my creampie like a good whiteboi, you know?” she tells him, pushing your face deeper in her creamy crotch.

“Aight. I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says, getting out of bed.

After he’s gone, and your twin is all clean, you get up from eating her pussy.

“Okay bro,” she says, sounding awake, “Why’d you even come in here? You know you aren’t allowed to just jerk off to us whenever you want anymore. Mom'll kill you."

"Wha-" you wipe the cum from your lips. "Oh, yeah, mom wanted me to tell you breakfast was ready. Max is making it today."

"That's it?"

You nod.

"You're a dumbass." She says.

"Well... I gotta get Katie and Lily up," you say, leaving. That was the nicest thing you've done with your sister in a long time.

Chapter 7 - A Good Morning for Lily

What always struck you odd (when your little whiteboi brain was actually thinking about the silly, nerdy things whitebois liked to think about when they weren’t rubbing off, getting ready to rub off, or cleaning up their puny cums) was how the room arrangement changed when you got to the younger sisters. Most of the upstairs was taken up by the open space above the big family room, with a chandelier hanging down. It was what you saw when you first walked into the house. If you went straight in and took a bit of a left, you’d go up the rounded staircase to the landing and upstairs hallway. Right in front of that was the master bedroom. It was big and luxurious, and had total access to the back balcony. Black boys would sometimes jump off it into the pool in the back. When your mom wasn’t home, of course. But the hallway was rather normal. It went straight back, with a bathroom at the end. On either side of that were the oldest sisters, Abby and Coral, and then on the sides were the two sets of twin’s rooms, Mary and Ellie, and you and Jenny. At the end on the right side, right next to yours, was the guest bedroom. You could go from oldest to youngest child by walking down the hall, but that was ruined when you got to turn to the two bedrooms whose doors overlooked the living room, because the first door was your youngest sister, and the second was your second-youngest. Oh well. You were still going to get them up in order. First you went to your youngest sister, Lily’s room. You knock on the door. It actually opens itself. Well, Lily opened it. Either way, you think to yourself, finally. You wouldn’t have to shake your sisters off of their horny all-nighter activit- Actually, when the door swung wide open, your petite little sister Lily was totally naked. “L-Lily! What are you doing? Why are you naked.” With big, pretty hazel eyes, Lily just blinked and looked you up and down. She cracked a teeny bit of a smirk when going over your exposed little thing. “You’re naked too,” she pointed out. Oh- yeah, that’s true. “But I was doing this to help mom with her bull…” you explained. “Okay, well, mommy said that I should sleep naked too if I was feeling funny around her and our sister’s bulls,” she explained right back. Feeling funny? Oh. You knew this was going to happen eventually. Katie was finally getting to the age where it was legal to fuck black men. And that age was chosen for a reason. That reason was that it was what girls wanted. She was probably getting insanely horny over every black guy she saw, and even more when there were ones in the bedrooms so close to hers. She stretched and yawned big. “I’m so tired!” “Tired?” You asked, “It’s one in the afternoon!” “Yeah, but I got to sleep at like 4 am!” 4 am? What was she doing? You were gonna ask her, but then you noticed a new poster on her wall- she was a teenage girl, so of course she had a bunch of pretty boys plastered all over the wall. Most of them were whitebois or korean guys, all looking super effeminate with smooth, pale skin and big eyelashes. It kind of made you feel good that girls liked the sort of guy you were. Sure, you were tiny and effeminate, but at least they thought you were cute! Something big changed though. In the middle of her wall, put over all her old posters and stickers, was a 4-foot-tall pin up of a black model, buff as hell, oiled up so his dark brown skin was shiny, covered in tattoos, and with a bulge in his underwear that went down to his knees. “W-what were you doing to stay up so late?” you asked. “Oh,” she giggled, “I was playing with myself!” “Playing with yourself?” you had to ask. “Yes! With my kitty!” she smiled big. Lily spread her little legs open and showed you her pink, bare pussy. It had some juices still in it, and plenty of white stuff coated her folds, “Katie taught me how to touch it last week,” she ran a finger through it. Damn! “And she showed me how good this button thing here feels!” she pointed at her clitoris. “Yeah,” you explain, “that’s your clit. It’s the best part of a girl’s body. That’s what mom always tells me when I- uhmm…” you stop out of embarrassment. “When you eat her out after her bulls fuck her?” she asked with another giggle. “Y-yeah,” you say. You really never had it confirmed how much your baby sister knew. You liked to think it was nothing, that she was perfect and innocent. That couldn’t be the case of course. Not with her too being raised in the same house as the mother of all snowbunny sluts. That BBC-loving MILF was a horrible influence on your little sister- but it was soooo hot. “W-what did you touch yourself thinking of?” you had to ask that too. “Oh- I was thinking of being a real big girl- like mommy! And getting to feel really good all day, everyday, from those big hot black guys!” “Just like our sisters…” you muttered. You hoped Lily would still be nice to you, even though she’d embraced being another black only girl in the black ruled world. “Yeah,” she smiled, oblivious, “and all my friends sisters too! They’ve all started to touch themselves thinking of black boys, like we’re big girls!” her eyes were so wide and excited, “Aren’t you proud of us!” “Yeah…” you said, thinking of how mad mommy would get if she learned you were trying to make Lily stop falling in love with black men. But on the other hand, your insecurity about your tiny, pathetic little white nub, all hard because of your virginal little sister, made you talk. “But I thought you liked white boys? Or those k-pop guys?” She made a face. “Yeah… they’re really cute! But Katie and Ellie and Mommy always tell me, white boys are cute, but black guys are HOT! And look at the new poster I got,” she pointed at the buff, nearly naked black man on her wall, “he’s so hot. Like, you’re cute,” she said. “Wait, really?” you ask. “Oh yeah- I’ve talked to girls who are all like ‘oh, Lily, your big brothers so cute!’ I can’t say who though…” she smirked, “but anyways- you’re cute, but you’re kinda, erm, small, and you aren’t really that muscular, but look at him!” she pointed at him again, “he’s soooo hot! I was up all night touching myself thinking about him!” It really was over. Everyone in your house was a total slave to the BBC. But of course, you were so, so turned on by it. Your little clit dick was dripping. If either of you barely rubbed it, it’d probably dripple the biggest load of today onto her carpet. Ignoring your babydick as you knew all girls would, she stretched again and put on a big t-shirt to cover all her pink little girly bits. “I’m hungry, bro. When’s breakfast ready?” “It’s brunch,” you corrected, “and it actually should be ready by now. That’s why mommy actually told me to come get you.” “Oh, alright,” she nodded, running up to you, and to your big surprise, hugged you! She jumped on you and gave you a big hug, digging her head and soft, sweaty hair into your chest, “Thanks bro! I love you!” She then just kept running downstairs, that big t-shirt flapping, almost revealing her butt and pussy a few times. You looked, but didn’t dare leave the room. Your clitty was so hard… so ready to collapse into another tiny bitchboy orgasm. You thought about her small, pink little budding tits press against you, how good they felt now that her girly little boobies were growing a bit. You imagined them growing bigger, like your other sisters’ had. Would she stay the nicest of them? Or would she be cruel with her newly growing body? As much as you wished she’d be your sweet, loving baby sister forever, you knew that now that she was legal, she’d become a true slut for BBC. If she wanted to abuse you and tease you and rub your face in it, it was her right. You thought of her titties growing when a black guy makes her pregnant. And of course, of her smooth, young buttcheeks under that shirt, rubbing together as she ran. You thought the same about her wet pussy and pink little asshole. How long until she began anal play? It scared and excited you. Maybe you would help her. After all, with your small body and tiny penis, you were proportioned perfectly to have sex with a girl her size. But that would never happen. It was disgusting, you knew, to want that with your little sister. Your mom would kill you, not because you were gross, but because you touched her- after all, your mom had no issue with being gross, happily making you eat her anal creampies. If you were lucky, Lily would let you do that after she got fucked. Fucked by a real man. You felt so frustrated. Her pussy and ass had to be so tiny, but of course, those massive, spoiled black cocks had exclusive rights to them. Black men were soon gonna start doing whatever they wanted with her as they pleased, and you had to let them. Let their big cocks stretch out her holes, while you’d always be cucked and denied. It was just the way the world was meant to be. That was all it took. You shuddered, feeling your little sissy butthole tighten up, your balls clench even smaller. Relief came. You’d be denied forever, as a white boy, but at least your mommy decided she’d let you cum, right? As you came, you thought how good that tiny, watery drop, leaking from your babypenis’ head, sliding down the full inch and a half of your shaft, and sitting on the little line of skin down the middle of your tiny, smooth balls, felt. It felt so damn good, cumming from knowing how inferior you were. As you left the room, tiny cumstain on your pathetic balls, you felt better about how your sister would stop loving you, and only have eyes for black men and their glorious cocks. It was the way things were meant to be. Peepee sore from cumming without being touched, you went out of Lily’s room and went to Katie’s on the right.

Chapter 8 - And lastly, Good Morning to Katie

Right down the short walkway on the landing from Lily’s room is your other young sister, Katie’s room. Unlike Lily, who’s room only had one small window to the left of her bed, Katie is lucky enough to get a big window that totally took up the left side of her room. You’re still distracted from the high of your beta orgasm that you totally forget to knock, and barge right into Katie’s room. “Hey hottie,” she said as she heard the door open. Then she turned around. “Ew- what the fuck- it’s you?” She looks disgusted, which, to be fair, is expected. You are, after all, walking into her room totally naked with that tiny white clitdick exposed, a few messy drops of cum on your underdeveloped balls, and during a time you shouldn’t have been in her room at all, it seemed. It looks like Katie’s putting on a little show for people outside. Her blinds were all the way up and her curtains to the side. There was a perfect line of sight from her room to the street below, and vice versa. It looked like some of the neighbor boys, both white and black, were looking up at her voyeuristically. Katie had put a chair by the window and spread her legs. Her pale, pretty feet were on the window. In her hand was a white wand vibrator, which she was pleasing herself with for who knows how long before you came in. “Hello? What the fuck are you doing here, you fucking loser?” she demands as she turns off her toy. She’s not happy, But then again, she never is with you. She’s just one of those girls who loves torturing white boys. There’s no real explanation, your younger sister is just a little sadist. “You gonna answer, loser? Sheesh, I can’t believe I’m related to you. I’m so fucking tired and your dumbass has to barge into my room too? Mom just fucking cage you.” “N-no,” you said, the threat of your poor little clit-dick locked in a cold, cruel chastity cage made you remember, “I- wait, you’re tired too Why are you up doing… this?” She rolls her eyes, standing up and bending over to spread her asscheeks to the cheering group below. Your pervy little mind wished you were down there, able to see even the tiniest glimpse of your little sister's asshole. “I couldn’t sleep,” she presses her butt right against the glass, “Not with Lily being so fucking loud.” “Loud?” You ask. “Yeah. I told her how to masturbate and shit, and she went crazy these past few nights. She’s always screaming about how good it feels. She sounds worse than Abby,” she rolls her eyes, “I guess you’re not the only fuck up in this house, huh? I made a pretty big mistake. When Coral moves back out I think I’m gonna take her room, I can’t stand that loud bitch.” You feel very hurt by that. After all, Lily might be your favorite sister. “H-hey,” you defended, “L-lily’s just exploring herself. She’s allowed to cum as much as she wants. It’s healthy for her to be sexually satisfied, right? Just like you are.” Just as you said that, with one hand on her chair and the other between her legs holding that vibrator, her whole back starts shaking. Her legs against the window quake, and her anus must be puckering so tight against the glass. Finally, she gets release, and squirts everywhere. “Ahhh!” she moans as squirts of sweet clear pussy water shoot out onto her window and drip down onto the cushioned bench right below it. It already looked stained from a few squirts earlier, but this time, it’s a total mess. “Mmmm,” she sounds so satisfied, “Show’s over until that gets cleaned up,” she smiles, standing up and dropping her vibe. “See that? That’s fucking satisfaction. I didn’t know how to really make myself squirt for years. Lily should stop trying to rush shit, and actually let me fucking sleep.” “M-maybe you’re just different,” you say, “some girls only need to cum- well, how many times have you?’ “This morning? 3 or 4. I bet it’s less than you have when going into everyone’s room to wake them up.” Instead of finishing your point, you just look down and blush. How does she know? “I’m right, right? I’m guessing- you stroke for a good 30 seconds when you get up, right? Then you probably cum when eating mommy’s creampie out, no? You might even cum twice then, she always gets bulls with a lot of cum… and then you probably get to cum with Max when you wake Abby up, then you don’t even have to touch yourself to cum looking at Coral’s dried pussy juice all over her toy collection. Ellie and Mary won’t let you cum, but you’ll probably cum at least once just by trying to hard not too, because you’re a fucking loser. Jenny’s way too nice to you, she’ll probably let you jerk off while she’s on the toilet or something. I fucking hope you didn’t cum when you woke up Lily, because you should literally get your balls chopped off if you did that. So you probably did. That’s what… 7 or 8 orgasms for you?” “S-something like that,” was all you could manage to say. “Fuck, you’re fucked up. I don’t even wanna know,” she hopped off her chair and went to her dresser, where she put on some pink panties. “Don’t fucking look at me when I’m changing, perv. Mom should fucking castrate you.” You gulp. “Y-yes, I know. S-sorry.” She laughs, “yeah, that’s all whiteboys know how to say. I can’t wait to see how many of the boys watching busted in their pants while staring at my booty. I’m shocked you didn’t,” she says, but then looks down at your tiny balls. “Oh- did you?” she starts cracking up, “Is that fucking cum? Holy shit, you fucking did! Did you even touch yourself?” “N-no!” you jump back. Your tiny package bounces just a little bit. “I-it was from earlier!” She walks forward to you, bending over and pinching your tiny clitdick with her two little fingers. She lifts it up to look at your balls. “It’s still wet- how long ago did you cum?” “Um, 3 or 4 minutes ago…” you tell the truth. “So right before you came here- you fucking came to Lily, didn’t you?” she shouted, angrily slapping your little nuts. “Owwwww,” you weakly whine in pain. “You’re so fucking sick! What would mom think? She’d probably just laugh at you, but still. You’re the worst fucking white beta I know, and that’s saying a lot! I’d fucking kick you in the nuts, but you’re probably too impotent to even feel it. Ugh!” You can’t help but blush and get hard. Though Katie was only a year younger than you, she was superior to you in every way. “Stop fucking blushing!” She growls as she turns around to keep getting dressed, “And make that nub you call a dick get less hard! I can’t fucking stand whiteboi stiffies near me,” she said, slipping on some black leggings, “When I have kids, if any of them are fucking boys- well, white “boys’” she makes air quotes, “I’m not gonna do any of mom’s ‘let them cum so they don’t try and touch girls’ bullshit. I don’t care what doctors of Church of the BBC magazine writers say, it obviously doesn’t fucking work. I’m putting any fucking white sons I push out in cages 24/7.” “W-why are you telling me this?” you ask, struggling to hide your tiny boner. She shrugs. “You taught me it’s fun torturing whitebois. It’s the one thing you’re good for. Stop staring at my tits,” she said, putting on a tight t-shirt.” “S-sorry.” “Yeah, whatever. You told Lily brunch is ready, right?” she asks. “Yeah, we should go down.” “Yeah, I will. First I wanna go outside and see if any of those cucks stayed by the house hoping to get some,” she laughed, “but before that,” she walked over to the bathroom she and Lily shared, and brought some paper towels, “you’re gonna clean up my squirts. And use your tongue as cleaning spray.” “Y-yes Katie, of course,” you go over and grab the towels, heading over to keel on her bench and start licking at and wiping your window. “Nuh-uh,” she says right as you start, “stand up. Show off your boy pussy. I wanna post this on Snowgram.” W-what? She was gonna post your white boy hole on social media? That really scared you, but it was so humiliating, it turned you on. That made it worse. Would everyone see your tiny clit? They’d laugh at it, wouldn’t they. “Oh come on, hurry up,” she says, taking out her phone. You obey her, spreading your legs wide to show off that smooth, pink bussy. You hear the phone click as she laughs. “Aright, see ya bro. I’m gonna go eat now,” she walks away. You stay, licking up her pussy juice and residues from her nasty window. It must’ve been days since it was cleaned. Thankfully, you’re a good worker. When you finish, you go back to your room. Your phone is out, with its BLACKED porn background. You open it, go to snowgram, and look at the latest posts. Sure enough, there’s Katie, with a picture of your exposed beta boi ass, captioned ‘cleaning- the one thing white brothers are good for!” Before that post was one of her holding her vibrator between her legs as she woke up, announcing her ‘show’ this morning. It had a ton of white boys from her grade commenting about it, but she pinned one from a girl; “All these white boys tryna shoot their shot, boi u can’t even shoot past your balls!” It had the most likes too. As you read that, you shot another drop of cum. It didn’t go past your balls either You added it to the pile of barely wet tissues in your garbage bin. The trash, where whiteboy cum belongs. Then, you go downstairs for breakfast.

Chapter 9 - Brunch

You reach down between your legs and feel your balls. Rather, your ballsack. The tiny little testicles in that flimsy little bag of skin are totally shriveled up thanks to you cumming 8 times already today. Those poor little glands are already exhausted by producing so much worthless little sperm… and it wasn’t even 2pm yet! You’d probably cum plenty more times today. It would surely end up being just impotent, clear prostate fluid. Well… more impotent than usual. You sniffle at your inferiority. You’re at the top of the stairs, and look down at the clatter below. You walk over to your room and get your clothes on, a simple pair of black shorts and white t-shirt over your unimpressive little body. Then you go downstairs to finally eat brunch. The kitchen is visible right at the bottom of the stairs, which are right in front of the hallway where you and all your siblings' bedrooms are. At the bottom of those stairs was a glossy marble floor, just like the rest of the house. There was also a lower, carpeted living room area with fluffy floors and white and red couches, and even a TV from a tall divider between the living room and the marble. Your mom’s a good decorator, with pretty white and red flowers all on top. To the right of that was the entryway, and to the left was the kitchen. The kitchen is a large space with white tile floors, lined with kitchen appliances that had an island in the middle. In the far corner, next to the back door, was a small table. In the front, close to the living room, was a bigger glass table. Your whole family is already eating. Your mom was at the head of the table, with Damarcus next to her. He was shirtless, but even though he wore gym shorts, the massive, fat snake in them peaked out. He selfishly grabbed at her thick thigh. On the opposite side of the table was Coral, with Mary slouched between her and Ellie. Andre had his arm around Ellie. He was so fucking cocky. On the other side of the table were Jenny, Jayvon, Lily, and Katie. Meanwhile, at the small table, Abby and her man, Julius, and her cuck boi, Max. You gulp as you go to take your seat right next to Katie. She still looks disgusted by you. “H-hey, thanks for getting my food today,” you said. Sometimes, if Abby was making breakfast, she wouldn’t give you any food, and you’d just have to get something yourself. “Oh, sweetie, thank Max. You white boys sure do know how to stick together,” your Mom smiled at you. Max, over with his wife and her bull, was getting his little dick teased from under his shorts by Abby. Though the three were off on their own, with Julius eating his fill of breakfast. Max was struggling to not acknowledge his arousal. Instead, he just kept thanking Julius over and over for enjoying his cooking. After all, if he so much as moaned from having his little dick touched by his wife’s feet, he’d be punished. It wasn’t a whitebois role to be turned on, especially not in public. Cruel girls like Abby didn’t give a shit though. It turns you on a little, as shameful as it feels. Max must’ve been ashamed too, after all, the massive bulge in Julius’ shorts was obvious. It wasn’t like he could ever measure up to what his wife really enjoyed, and he had to thank Julius for everything he did. Being a cuckboi was harder than it looked. “Son,” scolded your mom. You look back at her. You know that you aren’t supposed to start drooling at your sister’s feet. But you definitely weren’t supposed to drool at your mommy’s tits either. “Sorry, mom,” you whisper. You just look down at your food and start eating. This was a snowbunny’s household, and you were ignored. To stay out of trouble, you should ignore them too. But still, you didn’t wanna make the silence awkward. Or make silence in the first place. These people were your family, after all. Now that your mom was calmed down compared to how she was after those hours of being plowed by Damarcus, she could be an attentive mother. Even Ellie or Katie weren’t gonna attack you over breakfast. You look over at Jenny and Jaylon. While Damarcus dwarfed your mom, Andre made Ellie look just as small as Mary, and Julius was the king of the table where ‘Max’s’ family sat, Jaylon was the only small black boy there. Not that he was any smaller down there. Still… you had to ask. “So, um, Jaylon,” you say respectfully. You know you should be submissive to your black masters, even the younger ones, “you met my mom now?” “Howdya know my name, whiteboi?” he asked, looking over. He even spoke with a high pitched voice. But he degraded you like any other superior. It really was humiliating. First, your twin sister was stolen by this black kid, then your dignity in the family. As if you had much. “Because I told him, baby,” sighed Jenny, patting Jaylon’s hand, “Anyway bro, yeah, I told mom about us. She was really approving! I was kinda surprised… but I’m glad we all respect who we love, right?” she asked. She glared distinctly at Coral. “That’s not exactly how I remember it, Jenny,” smiled your mom. “I remember you freaking out when you tried to get him out the door this morning! You should know better that your momma’s got a soft spot for cute things like Jaylon. I told everyone here…. Who wasn’t late… to congratulate Jenny on her new boyfriend.” Jenny leaned back to talk to you, “Don’t sweat it bro, you already congratulated me enough,” she smiled. “Ayo, what’s that mean?” Jaylon asked. “Nothing baby,” she said as she checked her phone, “He just does all my chores and shit. He’s my brother.” she shrugged. At least someone appreciates the only whiteboy in the family. “Still, I think it’s funny that Jenny’s first boyfriend is some lightskin little kid. If she said she wanted to date whitebois, I’m sure mom would be okay with that too,” laughed Coral. Of course she had to be the one bringing up sex with whitebois. The subject actually made you uncomfortable. After all, it just felt like more pressure to perform. It was easier having a tiny dick and being a quickshot when that was all that was expected from you. It was harder when deviant girls like Coral actually wanted to have normal sex! “Damn, why’s this bitch gotta compare me to a whiteboi?” complained Jaylon. “It’s okay baby,” calmed Jenny, “My big sister is just a fucking weirdo.” She stuck her tongue out. “Oh, boo hoo. I’m in college, I’m supposed to experiment and have fun. Is anyone really gonna complain about having sex whenever I want with whoever I want? It’s not like I’m treating whitebois as equals,” she snorted. She then pulled out a vape pen after putting her drink down and took a long drag. Your mom looks mortified. “Coral! I told you not to do that inside!” she insists. Coral sighs and puts away her vape. Mom calms down. “I better not see you do that again, young lady,” she glares, “and you also shouldn’t talk about those kinda things in the house either, especially not in front of your little sisters,” she looks over the table, “or your little brother!” Coral chuckles, “Why not? Lil bro’s already a total pervert, might as well let him accept it.” Mom gets flustered again, “Uh, I do? Of course I do, but that’s not the point, Coral honey. The point is,” she growls a little and grabs Corals arm with her sharp long nails, “We do not talk about them in this household. Right girls?” Everyone nods along with mom. You do too. She probably counted you along with the ‘girls’. “Ow,” says Coral, pulling her arm away. “You don’t hear me mouthing off about your father’s abysmal attempts at sex over breakfast, do you?” “Ugh. No mom, I don’t.” “So apologize!” “Sorry.” “To your siblings. And for what?” Coral looks over at all of you. “I’m sorry for talking about such perverted things at the breakfast table. Can I go now?” Your mom sighs. As scary and mean as she could be, you felt bad for her. Even though Coral was the only white girl to ever really look your way, even if it was a really pervy thing, you wished she was a better daughter. Just to make your mom happy. “Anyways,” she says, looking at you as Coral gets up, puts her plate in the sink, and leaves. “Son, you know what’s coming up for us?” she asks. “Um….” you think carefully, trying to remember. Dammit, you knew this day was special, right? So what was it? Damn your stupid, cum-addled whiteboi brain! Um…. “The party….” your mom hinted. “Right, right!” you say as you remember, “We’re hosting the Neighborhood Blacked Moms Association End-of-Summer party again this year, right?” “Exactly sweetie. Now, I already sent invites out, but, well, I’m a little good at my job,” she turns to Damarcus and smiles, “so not everyone can RSVP by mail. Do you remember your job?” You nod, finally happy to be pleasing mommy, “I have to go around the neighborhood to see who can go or not, right?” “Exactly!” She says, “Good boi. Now come clean my plate up, and you can go.” You nod and stand up. Who cares if your plate is unfinished. You have a job to do, and whitebois are made to serve. A/N, if you wanna create a family that you can meet in the next part of this story, just say so in the comments! Names, dynamics, ideas, anything's accepted! Thank you all!

Chapter 10 - Heading out for the Day

After you wash the dishes for mommy (with a few nice spanks on your bare white boi ass from both your sisters and their bulls) you thank her and get ready to go. In the office, which was next to the kitchen and right under your room, you finally got the stupid printer to work. Out came 2 sheets of paper with over a dozen names on them. All the white girls and women in the neighborhood were written on that sheet. There were 9 houses you had to visit in the next few hours. A busy day today, for sure. You put on your shoes and get the papers in your backpack, and some shorts, just to keep your tiny dickletted self modest. Even though, of course, anyone who saw you could understand that you had a micropenis just by glancing at your skin color. You walked out the hall into the living room. Behind the TV stand, there was a lot of noise. Your weak knees shook as you walked forward in your kid-like clothes to see what was going on. What you see is exactly what you expected. In the few minutes you’d been gone, all the girls and bulls had gotten naked and were having their first orgy of the day right in the middle of the house. Anyone who opened the front door, or even just looked through the windows on either side of it, could see what was happening. Nobody would judge though. Multiple orgies a day was commonplace in the BNWO, especially for suburban white women. And it made your depleted balls tremble and tiny peepee grow. The coffee table was pushed over to the side. In its place was the center four-way of it all. Damarcus lying on his back with his huge arms around your mom’s neck and head, which was itself pushed between his huge pecs. His belly made her back arch as she lied on top of him. Damarcus’ 18 inch, 55 year old cock was absolutely destroying your mom’s anus. Both her butthole and her beloved bull’s cock were shining with what must’ve been lube, but it didn’t look like enough. When you weren’t feeling amazed about how black bulls could fuck for hours, you were amazed with how much a white girl could stretch just to take a BBC. While Mom was being assfucked by Damarcus below her, Julius was fucking her pussy and playing with her tits. Julius had a good 16 inches, not as lengthy or girthy as Damarcus, but he was fucking your mom but good. He made up for that too in youthful strength, because the fourth part of the 4-way was Abby, whose thick thighs and plump rump were held out by Julius’ massive arms. He was eating out his girlfriend, and in turn she had a steady flow of orgasmic juices pour onto mom’s belly from between her legs. Mom moaned loudly and squirted all over Julius’ thick black pubes. Her first orgasm of many for this orgy. Your worm was at maximum hardness. All of two inches. Behind them on the couch, there was another 3 of them sitting down, which it took a while to notice, since your transfixtion was totally on the center. On the far left is Max, who it seemed had permission from his wife to jerk off while she got eaten out in a foursome with you two’s mom and their bulls. Max’s little less than two inches (you’re very proud you’re bigger than your sister’s husband!) was jerked so hard it looked like his balls would slap against it. But of course, his scrotum was too tight and tiny for that. “Fuck ahhhhh,” moaned Abby. Her muscular ass quaked in Julius’ massive hands. They both looked like they were in total bliss. “I’m gonna fucking cum I’m gonnnnnnna nnnnnnnnng!” She yelled. Her legs stuck out totally straight, almost kicking you in the face, and, with her bull’s head still between her thighs, she came. Julius didn’t let her down after though. Her eyelids fluttered and lips shook. He just kept eating her out, without giving her a second to recover. And you knew your sister. She loved it. “H-hey, babe,” she rolled her head towards the couch to look at her hubby, who was still jerking his little dick on the couch, “Y-you don’t have you be a-ashamed. My family isn’t gonna mind if you touch yourself the way you love, cuckie d-darling.” Max whimpered. How pathetic, but you weren’t one to talk. “T-thank you babe,” he said. He scooted down in the chair. “J-julius b-babe, can you please tell m-my fucking loser brother to stop staring t-too?” she moaned as she drooled. Julius shot you a death glare. “S-sorry!” You insisted, jumping back. Plenty of bulls of your mom’s or big sisters’ have disciplined you in the past. It almost always involved a painful slap, or worse, punching your poor little balls, as if they weren’t already impotent enough. You look back over to the couch. There, Max had spread his legs and began to not only tug his tiny dick with two fingers, but also to rub his pink, smooth butthole with one finger. Abby giggled at that. Is that what her husband like? Playing with his whiteboi ass while his wife fucked bulls? T-that seemed so…. Gay! And you kinda wanted to do it too. Max closed his eyes and moaned as he fingered his butt and played with his clit. He was in his own fantasy world. As you stepped out of Mom’s, Damarcus’, Julius’, and Abby’s ways, you got to see who was on the couch besides Max. Right next to him was Jenny, who looked exhausted. Her smooth pussy was creampied again, and she was breathing heavily. Next to her was Jaylon, who looked tired and sweaty, but still pretty happy. That was probably because, between his spread, medium-brown legs, with their mouths on his big, smooth, uncut cock, were Katie and Lily, your two little sisters. His dick was wet and sticky, with a bit of cum still at the tip. Katie licked that up to show Lily how it was done. Lily smiled with wide, eager eyes. Then Katie spat it out onto your youngest sister’s mouth and they snowballed it. “Get fucked good?” you asked your twin, who was obviously uncomfortable with Max masturbating away next to her. “Yeah,” she said, “Right after breakfast. Mom was teasing us so he was all like ‘fuck it, I’ll show you,” she looked over at her boyfriend and held his hand. She looked at him, but he didn’t look back. She took her hand away. “Anyway.... Best fucking I’ve ever had. Made me cum 3 times in about 5 minutes.” “Wow,” you said. It felt good just to have a normal conversation with her. Even if it was about how she got fucked by that black dick, and it made you think of how you’ll never satisfy a girl with that tiny shrimp dick, or even fill her up with your few watery drops of cum. At least she wasn’t explicitly humiliating you. “C’mon, sit down.” she said. You stepped over her legs to sit inbetween her and Jaylon, but then she grabbed your wrist. “Nuh-uh, you’re sitting between me and him.” she said assertively. You sighed. You were really hoping not to have to sit next to Max rubbing his little whiteboi butthole, but no such luck. You just hoped nobody would ask about it. You sat down next to Jenny. In the corner, by the chairs by the TV stand closest to the stairs, Ellie was on her back getting fucked by Andre. Coral, ever the perverted one, was sitting on Ellie’s face, getting her pussy licked. You wondered how much Ellie resisted to that before she finally accepted a faceful of her big sister’s cunt. Meanwhile, Mary was eating Andre’s ass, and shyly fingered her pussy with two fingers. “Wow,” you breathed, “Can’t believe I missed this.” “Ah please bro,” she said to you with a cocksure smile, “Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You shrug. It isn’t took common to see Mary out. Especially rimming a guy. “Hey,” Jenny asked, “Why aren’t you jerking off?” You shrug again. “Tired I guess. My balls are kinda sore… I’ve already nutted eight times today.” Jenny’s eyes moved over to Jaylon, who blasted a fat, potent rope right on top of Katie’s silky-haired head. She looked a little sad, but then turned back to you. “Heh, little whiteboy can’t get it up huh?” She ruffled your hair. It pushed your head down. You felt so weak. “H-hey,” you protest. “Aww, you’re so damn cute!” “Hey baby,” asked Andre, “Want some of this?” You looked up and saw Andre turn around and get his massive black cock in Mary’s face, obviously offering it to her. Mary’s eyes were insanely wide. “N-no…” she whispered. “NO! I-it’s fine t-thanks. B-besides, I was just eating your ass..” At that pathetic passing up of some easy black dick, both Andre and Ellie laughed at the later’s poor twin sister. “W-whatever guys,” sniffled Mary. She got up and ran up to her room, still naked with her small tits bouncing. You felt bad, but knew if you tried to comfort her she would take it out on you crueler than even Ellie. “Anyways,” you said, breaking the tension. “I- uh- have some RSVPs to get.” You pulled out the paper and waved it around as you stood up and stepped over Mom and Damarcus’ legs. You left your twin sister in the dust too. But you were a weak whiteboy who couldn’t even stand up for himself after all. How could you get her to stand up for herself? Nobody looked any different as you made your departure known. You walked out to the door, got your shoes on your tiny little feet, and walked out.

#bbc #story #interracial

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vesperlionheart · 7 years

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Desert Madness Part 1

@madasakuweek Rated E for everyone 10 and up...for now

The desert was a part of her and coming back to it was like being born again, suddenly her bones could sign with the frequencies of an earth soaked in mystery. Sakura pushed back the brim of her cap and grinned at the deep blue sky. Summer was nearly over and the monsoon season was out in full force. Every other night was a lightning storm full of dry thunder and bolts of crackling electricity.

She missed her desert.

Nothing seemed to have changed since coming back from university. The people were all where she left them and the buildings only grew dust with the passing seasons. The few exceptions to this norm bit at her heart painfully when she realized one of her closest friends was gone. Naruto had gone off the same summer as her, but he was still tied up with classes, not having rushed through courses like she had. Sakura was too eager to return to the land of her ancestors. Bloodstone was her home.

The room in her grandmother’s house was exactly as she left it. The posters of UFO sightings and newspaper clippings still stuck to her walls, and even the Christmas lights turned on when she plugged them in.

For a second she saw the ghosts of her childhood crowded on her bed as Sasuke brought his transmitter up for them to hear. Thicker than thieves they trio had been inseparable in their youth, chasing down ghost lights in the desert, mysterious radio station signals, tracking the clues left by old Dutch miners, and recording low res video of what they could just off the highway.

Old warnings like, ‘never drive down the interstate with an empty passenger seat’ were ignored and dared as the group stole an Uchiha chevy and drained it going up and down the old interstate after midnight. Nothing ever came from it, but the memories were a nectar to suck on when life drained her.

And she was drained.

Sakura dropped her bags at the foot of the bed and slowly lowered herself onto the twin sized mattress. The blanket from her great grandmother was just as soft as she remembered them being, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

She set the radio to her favorite static station and set to work cleaning up her old room and putting away what she had packed with her. It was a fuzzy mess and she loved it like that, but her heart still ached for the voice that would punch through in her youth and whisper things like a secret that didn’t make sense.

Every time the man from the dust came on it was a big enough deal to make her drop everything and anything to commit his words to memory. He had still speaking when she entered high school and she doubted he had spoke anytime since, otherwise Sasuke would have texted her from the military compound where he could still get a signal.

The man from the dust would talk about places lost to the ages, the ancient fossils of water monsters frozen in red stone, the government bunkers buried in the desert, the abandoned railroad that drove like a ghost through the desert on hot midnights in summer, and Oasis.

‘Oasis is the key to it all, or maybe just the reason. Oasis is what made the world look at bloodstone and it’s also what made her hidden.’

None of them knew what Oasis was but they had theories as kids growing up. It had been their treasure to hunt and dream over. Naruto thought it was a gold village from the ancients like El Dorado, Sasuke thought it was a secret UFO crash site, and Sakura believed it all. She needed to. Bloodstone was a part of her and Oasis was somewhere in the valley, waiting for her.

“It’s finally starting to cool down. Cool enough for-kch,” a voice cut through the white noise, making Sakura go still and white. She turned stiffly to stare at her little red radio. “Im going to the petroglyphs for answers. The trail is paved with good intentions, just like hell. Maybe Oasis is hell. It’s been hell finding it so long. But I’m at the end.”

The white noise returned and there was nothing else but static.

His voice. Low and tickling in her ears and belly, like it was a thing that filled the listener up. There was no way she would mistake that voice. It had been younger once before, when she was just a child, but it had always been the same man, aging with his pursuit of the truth.

The day she came back to bloodstone he came back to the radio. It was a sign.

It was late but she had texted him to warn him ahead of time. He should know better than to think she wasn’t planning on coming over as soon as she got back, anyway. He was the only one she had left.

Sakura didn’t care that she almost got shot jumping the fence to the Uchiha compound. It was a big fancy house with barracks in the back, but it was a prison to Sasuke when they were kids. He hated it. It was so odd that he had turned around after high school and started living with the rest of his family so peacefully.

They had a whole plan about how they were going to run away once they all turned 18 and no one wanted to run more than Sasuke. Sakura just wanted to be with them, but in the end it was only Naruto that made it out.

“Sasuke!” she screamed his name and banged on the front door, not caring if his family turned around and hated her even more. It wasn’t late, they probably weren’t even at dinner.

No one answered for a while and Sakura’s breathing, once labored from the run and excitement, mellowed out and she felt her energy drain. The compound was like a vampire. Finally the door opened and Sasuke stuck his head out. She saw his eyes widen.

“Sakura? You weren’t supposed to be over until later. What are you doing here?”

His face softened as he opened the door even more and stepped out to see her. He was taller than her, finally, and nicely dressed for a house full of AC. He was even wearing wireless glasses like an adult. He looked so grown up! She looked less put together with her ripped denim shorts and cartoon tee, knotted at the base.

“I just got back!” she laughed, pulling him into a hug he melted into easily. He wasn’t Naruto, built like a tank and hard to hold in just two arms. “I missed your hugs.”

“I missed you,” he admitted, pulling away and looking down at her. “You’ve been working out?”

“Yeah, my trainer told me I could probably benchpress a bear with the way I am now. I walked in like a string bean, remember?” her voice was light and jovial. “But you’ve changed too. Finally grew a few inches, eh?”

“That’s not a joke. I told you I would have a spurt later in life.”

“You did, you did! But I bet you’re still shorter than Naruto.”

Sasuke swallowed and ducked his head. “I have that going for me.”

He shuffled on the threshold before tugging her inside and closing the door to keep the AC from escaping. Right away Sakura felt a sharp drop in temperature and shivered. It wasn’t that hot outside, but compared to indoors, it was drastically different.

“How have you been? When did you just get in?” he asked, tugging her inside by the hand.

“I got in just a little while ago. I aired out my old room and was putting stuff away when I heard the radio. Sasuke, did you hear it? He was back on the station!” her voice hitched in excitement and she squeezed his hand.

Sasuke paused, looking over her with a confused expression before it clicked. “Oh.”

Sakura stopped walking, tugging on his hand. “Oh? What do you mean just, oh?”

“You’re still listening to that ghost station.” He shook his head and the long bangs knocked against the side of his wireless glasses. Suddenly he seemed even more older than she first assumed. “Sakura…”

“You’re not listening to it anymore,” she guessed. “Why?”

“Why would I do such a thing? It’s a waste of time and I have better things I could be putting my energies to. I’m trying to make a career here and that’s not as easy as I first assumed it was. I have to work for this and I can’t drag our childhood along with me forever.”

Sakura felt stunned. Sasuke wasn’t Sasuke.

“What happened to you?”

He jerked, seemingly offended by the question. “Me? I grew up, Sakura. It’s what we do. I’m not in fourth grade anymore and neither are you. I have a job and a degree and a life. I’m trying hard to make it a better one. The desert isn’t going to give that to me with a side of mystery.”

Sakura had to look again. Sasuke was his father for a moment and then he was Sasuke again. He sounded too much like one of his cousins or brother, not like her Sasuke from years ago. She had just been gone for three years. That was it. That wasn’t enough time for him to change this much.

Sasuke had sworn never to be what he was now. He had promised them under a fort of bed sheets to always believe and always search until the end of times for their truth out there in the desert. He was the nut job that put both her and Naruto to shame, crazy smart about UFO cover ups and sightings across the haunted south west.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sakura. You had to have known it would have turned out like this. You didn’t think we really going to be goonies until the end? I can’t, Sakura. I have a life.”

“Sasuke?” All she could manage was his name.

This wasn’t happening. Naruto had left, but Sasuke was standing in front of her, but he felt further away than Naruto ever had. This felt like a stab in her heart. It hurt.

“Come on.” He reached for her hand again and she let him take it, limply. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. You said you were coming over and I made dinner. Sit with me and tell me about ASU.”

She let him lead her in and after a few minutes she remembered how to talk to other people. It didn’t feel like talking to Sasuke, it felt like she was talking to a classmate that didn’t know her or a blind date she planned on leaving after coffee. He was supposed to be her closest friend, but he felt so far away now that they were inches apart. He didn’t let go of her hand unless he had to, but she didn’t hold it back, and he seemed to be waiting for that.

It was almost sunset. The sun was swollen and low. Soon it would be dust and the sky would by a mysterious shade of purple perfect for the way her heart felt as she left the compound. Her bike was parked outside the gates and she fingered the water jug Sasuke had given her before glancing out at the desert.

She was hydrated, and she would have enough for a quick stroll. She knew where the petroglyphs were. They weren’t far, and she knew the ways in and out of the canyons better than anyone. It was the same with the veins in her wrist. The desert was in her and she was in the desert. She could be out there and back before she ran out of water.

“I guess I haven’t grown up just yet,” she breathed, seating herself and turning the engine over. Her bike roared to life and she turned it around away from the town into the belly of the valley.

She was an arrow in the desert, trailing dust like the feathers notched at the end, headlight piecing the dim as the the sun sunk beneath high red rock. She passed the rock structure and suddenly the world around her was burning and she was flying through golden fire until the next structure blocked out the dying sun. She had lived through a thousand sunsets and would live through a thousand more, but they never failed to make her heart hurt with their beauty. Something about the desert made sunsets scream, demanding their beauty be recognized.

Sakura dripped the nose of her bike down a shadowy path and trailed it down between high walls of red rock that bled in wavy layers, some purple, some gold, some scarlet like blood.

She knew no one would be there when she arrived at the petroglyphs, but the temptation was too strong to pass up. She wanted a clue, some measure of proof. Something.

She blinked and the tears fell from her lashes and off her face, slipping under the goggles edges. She let go and her bike drifted on that last push of acceleration before she stopped herself in front of the rock wall where dozens of drawings told an unusual story.

No one cared about the history of Bloodstone enough to pry into it. Even the people who have been in the valley since the beginning, ‘whenever that was’ treated the origin myths like dirty laundry best not aired where the world could see it. There were drawings of people in horns and deer hooves dancing. There were whale drawings too, and even squid painted on the wall. There were animals from the ocean that had no right being mentioned in the desert. There were streaks that looked like melted paint, but were what Sakura believed to be falling stars.

Cave paintings were all over the old red rocks, but when people talked about petroglyphs, they usually meant the Great Wall, the place with the most and the best preserved. Sakura dismounted, drinking from her bottle of water as she inspected the area. There were footprints, and her heart picked up at that, but there was no way to know who they belonged to.

She crouched low and went around the area with eyes strained for a sign of something. She wanted a clue before she went home and felt silly about how young she was. But there was nothing.

Dust kicked up and anything left behind was long lost. The sky was dim and the sun was wholly swallowed. Stars were coming out, twinkling into view from millions of miles away just to watch her.

Sakura finished her water and packed up, out of time. It was only when she was back on her bike peeling out did she turn on the radio in her helmet and listened to his static all the way home, into her room, throughout her night time rituals, and even through the sleeping hours.

It was three am when a voice punctured the lonely sound of static.

“It’s just me, now. No one else is searching anymore.” A long moment of silence stretched on while the static abated until his voice came back, more tired and worn than she remembered. “Back to the beginning, where they started it.”

Outside, old thunder boomed as dry lightning tormented the desert, but no rain fell.

The beginning was Hera.

Back in the forties and fifties when the country thought making bigger and badder bombs was a priority, the desert was a testing spot for precursors to the A bomb, according to the redacted history. Hera was the first town built for the weapon developers and their families. After Hera was planted came Apollo. Both went under and became ghost towns before the decade was over and their bones stuck out of the desert like an ugly reminder.

Hera was the beginning, and one of the first places they had investigated when they were kids, looking for the source of that radio signal. Finding the source was impossible unless it was being used, and the voice came on so rarely it made tracking impossible.

Sakura rolled into the town, cutting her engine before she inside to push her bike in and park along the side of a diner left derelict. It was odd coming back after so many years away. Hera seemed trapped in time.

She tugged her cap down and turned down main street, sipping water from her bladder pack, careful to stay hydrated. The more she saw the more she recognized, and the more she recognized the more she could see the signs of life in Hera.

Someone had been here.

Her thoughts were cut off when something caved in nearby and there was a cloud of dust. She heard the yelps of several desert coyotes running scared, disturbed from the morning sleep. She saw their face out of the dust as several darted off for new hiding spaces. In the shadows their eyes glowed and Sakura counted four dogs, twelve eyes.

‘The third eye is an illusion your brain creates when they run too fast,’ someone had once told her.

Oh, these were those sort of coyotes. Sakura pulled out her revolver and took another long suck from her water pack and skipped over to where the destruction seemed to be coming from. The building was an office, but the wood was rotten and underneath the ground floor was a maw of darkness, what once had been a cellar. Something had fallen straight through the roof three stories into that darkness. Sakura leveled her gun and her light.

“Hey, someone down there?”

She adjusted the side of her flashlight and the beam bled wide, showing off the stairs hidden behind a wall. Sakura kicked through the old plaster and took the stairs down into the lab like cellar. Dust was still falling down as he beam swept over the expanse. Something had impacted the crates in the center of the room and lay sunk in the canvass, unmoving. Her light caught a leg, limp in the rubble.

Sakura cursed, stowing her gun behind her and rushed to administer first aid. She cursed again when she saw who was in the rubble.

“Damn, he’s gorgeous,” she whispered, recognizing Uchiha features.

It was a miracle he was as fine as he was. She checked for broken bones and was concerned with his ribs, but nothing was obviously broken enough for her to tell just by feeling. He was beautifully bruised and bleeding from a few places and out cold, but alive.

There was an old hospital in Hera. It didn’t have everything, but it would have enough for her to treat the surface injuries. She gingerly tried to wake him, but he didn’t stir, so she ended up carrying him princess style up and out of the house, across town, and into the Hera hospital. Another inspection showed no broken bones, which was what she was afraid of.

Sakura tried her phone but wasn’t surprised to get no signal. Hera was too far out. There was no way she could safely transport him on her bike. She had to treat him on site and pray it was enough. She didn’t trust herself to leave and come back and find him in one piece, untouched by the scavenging dogs she had already sighted in the city. Those things would eat anything once dusk came on.

He moved in his sleep a bit and she watched, carefully observing for any sign of greater distress. He didn’t seem to be in much pain and she wondered if it was an Uchiha thing. Sasuke was hearty too.

She didn’t want to leave him, but water was scarce and she had to wash the blood off her hands. There was a well not far from the hospital. She went there to wash up and paused over the hook, seeing eyes in the shadows, stalking. Slowly, Sakura slide her pistol free. It didn’t move, but she took aim for the third eye, dead smack in the center of his head. It was just an illusion, her brain making up something that wasn’t really there. But there were stories about these coyotes, how they spilled out of a star traveler’s side and ran like a mess across the desert with her third eye marking them as kin.

Sakura pulled on the trigger and the coyote crumpled. When it rose again, it blinked, two eyes reflecting the light before it caught sight of her and turned tail to run.

Sakura climbed back into the hospital and entered the room, not surprised the see the man still dead asleep. She tried her phone again but couldn’t get a signal. She took a picture of his face, then several more, posing for selfies that might embarrass him later.

She was editing a video when he blinked and moved, pushing up on the table.

“Yo!”

He looked over at her, startled and then angry. “Who are you?” he hissed, pending his knees to brace on the table. Good, no broken bones there either. He was talking too, head trauma was minimal.

“I’m your guardian angel, apparently. You’re an Uchiha, right? You know Sasuke?”

He glared at her. “He’s a brat.”

“Worse than that, he’s a stuck up ass these days, but you’re related, aren’t you?”

His glare seemed to lessen. “He is my nephew. Your name?”

“Sakura.”

He nodded, likely taking no meaning in her name. “Madara.” He pulled up an arm and saw the bandages. “You did this?”

“I’m pretty sure the fall did that, but I did the bandages. Sorry about not taking you to a real hospital. There’s no signal and I didn’t think I could take you on my bike.”

He huffed a breath and pushed himself up before turning around on the cot table to face her. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she countered.

“I asked you first.”

“I saved your life.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You couldn’t because you fell three stories into a crate pile and nearly died, but if you could, I’m sure you would have?”

His eyes flashed the way Uchiha eyes always flash. Sometimes there is a teasing of scarlet in their black, black orbs, but it’s always a trick of the light. “You assume too much, girl. I have my reasons and I am not compelled to share them with you.”

“Sounds super important,” Sakura teased, feeling something nag at the back of her mind when he spoke. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, you know.”

“And you’re here with someone?” he asked, looking around the room. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Yeah, well my buddy decided to grow up and I’m the only one stuck her in Never Never Land, so now that we’ve established that, you wanna tell me what you were doing swan diving into ghost buildings?”

“I do not owe you anything, including an explanation. What you did was your own decision, I did not ask for any of it.”

Sakura felt her gut drop and turn to stone as sick realization flooded through her. Her eyes widened and get skin lost its color for a moment. It was a change that made Madara’s glare lessen and almost switch into concern.

“Your voice,” she breathed, placing her hands on her knees as she sank down into the chair opposite him. “You’re the voice on the radio, looking for Oasis.”

No wonder his voice was so pretty, he was a classic Uchiha with face perfectly sculpted and a physique made for Olympic gods to envy. Of course she had been hung up on an Uchiha for years. Of course.

Sakura melted in her chair, grabbing at her face and muffling a scream with her lips pulled inwards. She didn’t see how he reacted or hear if he tried to deny it, she had to focus on this revelation first.

‘Why did he have to be so pretty?’ She pulled her hands down the front of her face and nearly died when she saw him flush and avert his eyes. She had said that last bit out loud. Great.

“I-I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he coughed, still looking away from her.

Standing up, Sakura reached for her phone and scrolled through her library before clicking on an audio recording and turning the volume up as loud as it would go. It was his voice, perfectly identical now that she paid it enough attention. His blush only spread as the audio clip turned into static and ended.

“That was years ago. You went silent and I thought it was done, but then you spoke last night through the airwaves and I don’t know how, but it was what I needed to hear. Back to the beginning, you said, so here I am.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, but the blush had faded. “No one was supposed to be able to hear those.”

“I did.”

He looked up at her finally, meeting her eyes. She watched him swallow before he reached up to rub at his jaw. “You said your name was Sakura. You know I’m an Uchiha right, and that this whole thing is madness?”

She felt Bloodstone in her bones.

“This is what I’m alive for.”

#Madasaku #weird west #paranormal #southwestern gothic #Sakura #Madara #madasakuweek

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cdg174 · 7 years

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Call me Jane Doe: Chapter Five

Summary: Castiel is confused about Jane Doe’s soul and worried. Her kind are meant to be emotionless but for some reason she is anything but that. She is expressive and does not hide so. He is unsure if she is to be trusted just as Sam and Dean debated. Castiel goes to find out more from Jane as she flees to her room in the bunker. Meanwhile, Y/N believes her plans are ruined because Castiel may expose what she is to the boys. She wishes her life was as simple as it was before her abilities came into play. Y/N remembers the day her life changed forever in fear it may end once and for all.

Words: 1374

Masterlist

Castiel’s pov.

As soon as I saw Jane Doe’s soul, I knew. A one like her’s has only ever existed twice before, this being the third time. I’ve only ever seen one before, everyone looks slightly different as I was told. The last one was a boy, same age as Jane now although he disappeared years ago and hasn’t been heard from since. His soul was full of pure light, tinted blue with black trapped in the middle. The black being very distinct from the rest of the soul. The only difference in Jane’s is that it’s larger, brighter and a soft shade of white. The black in the middle seems to want to merge with the rest, but is being fought off. Strange and not good because the dark part of the soul is pure power and evil, contained by the rest of it’s surroundings.

Before Jane can react to my accusation, Dean groans in pain.

“What is wrong Dean?” My attention still mostly on Jane.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not. You can’t sit still in your seat.” I notice, setting the plate down I had no intention of eating off of.

“He got his shoulder dislocated by a demon yesterday.” Sam admits not looking away from the computer. Dean hits his shoulder with is good arm.

“Dude!” Sam laughs under his breath.

“Allow me Dean.” I walk behind Jane and whisper to her. “We will talk later.” She tenses up even more than before.

“No Cas, it’s fine really…” He argues.

“Well too bad Dean.” He starts to stand but I push him back down and within seconds, I command my grace to heal his wounded shoulder. “You’re welcome.” I say retracting my hand.

“Yeah, thanks.” He grumbles turning back to the computer, rolling his shoulder as a test.

“What are you researching?” I look over them to analyze the screen.

“We’re trying to find more information on a demon we lost sight of on our last hunt.” Sam inquires. “Have you ever come across a couple century old demon by the name of Harlow?”

“It sounds familiar but off the top of my head, no.” I admit.

“Well, try keep an ear out for her Cas.” I squint at Dean’s words and he sighs. “If you hear anything about her…” He says slowly. “Let us know.” I nod in understanding. As Sam continues typing I see Jane out of the corner of my eye walk out of the kitchen, plate full of food.

“Where is she going?” I wonder out loud. Dean briefly looks in the same direction before his attention is on the bright screen again.

“She’s a bit shy in close quarters. Probably going to her room to eat.” Dean implies to me. I nod although neither them are looking at me and I make my way in the direction Jane has gone. She’s is more expressive in her actions than the last one of her kind. Shy, stiff, cautious and maybe a little scared? Jane’s kind were never known to feel. So why her?

Y/N pov.

I don’t even bother closing the door to the room because I know Castiel will be here soon enough. I could easily run, I could just as easily pop over to the next town in seconds, one of my other abilities but Sam and Dean are the only ones who can help me. Now though, Castiel could possibly ruin my plans.

“Everything could end before it’s set in motion.” I sit on my bed defeated. He’s an angel, I only know this because the last one I met had the same spark of energy as soon as contact was made. Then she proceeded to attempt murdering me, like most other beings have. My life was so simple but five years ago it all changed and I know the exact time where it all went wrong.

March 16th, 2012

A newspaper is thrown on the twin size bed I and my mother have no choice but to share. Although she usually sleeps on the floor so my thirteen year old self can get a somewhat decent sleep.

“Can’t have you two going crazy not knowing what day is it.” Charleston says. “Only I get to drive you two crazy.” He smiles, eyes flashing black. This would have been shocking if we hadn’t found out he was a demon the day he took us. Charleston comes in the room every morning as soon as the sun shines through the barred windows, dropping off a the daily paper or taking my mother.

Today he leaves her though because last night he brought her back unconscious and bleeding. He tortures her in the next room, hoping for me to snap while hearing her screams through the thin walls but I still don’t know why. When mother wakes up I will ask her again why we are here because she has known since day one and still refuses to tell me. In the mean time, I listen to Charleston lock the many deadbolts on the only exit to this room with newspapers piled next to it. I look around this large space only occupied by a single sink on the wall, a lonely toilet beside it, triple barred windows and a blood stained mattress on a frame I occupy with my mothers head in my lap.

I lightly grab the newspaper and peer at the date, March 16th, 2012. We’ve been in this dreadful room for twenty-one days now. Twenty-one days of me not knowing why. I cried on and off for the first ten days but soon ran out of tears. I used to scream through the walls every time I heard Charleston hurt my mother in the next room but soon stopped because that’s what he wanted. Now here I am, feeling numb because it never ends.

I feel mother shift below me and stare down at her now swollen opening eyes. I have her eyes, her beautifully simple brown eyes. Even though she has just been beaten and torn away at, she still gives a weak smile.

“Hello darling.” She rasps out, her smile disappears when she notices my questioning face. She knows what I want to ask. “You don’t want to know dear, I promise you that.”

“Of course I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be here either. I don’t want to hear you screaming. I don’t want to sleep in your blood. I don’t want to any of this but here we are.” I look at her sad and frustrated. “So you might as well tell me one more thing I don’t want because that’s all that happens here.” I plead with her. She sits up slowly with some help from me and leans against the wall, grimacing in pain.

“Are you sure?” Her eyes tell me to say no but I’m tired of not knowing why.

“Yes.” She closes her eyes in dread.

“Could I have some water first? We have a lot to cover.” She’s giving in finally. I rise from the bed and walk to the sink to fill a plastic cup for her. I give her the water sitting again, somewhat inpatient for her to finish it. I’ve been asking everyday since we arrived and twenty-one is the lucky number.

“Mom…” My voice cracks. “Why are we here?” She looks at me for a minute before replying.

“Sweetie, I have tried so hard to protect you from this.” She gulps. “I have tried so hard to make sure you never found this out, long before we were taken. Since you were born really I have been keeping this from you.” I look at her confused, I realize this is much bigger than twenty-one days. It’s a lifetime bigger.

“Mom?” She tears up.

“I love you dear but this may ruin your life.” I open my mouth but she continues. “What I tell you now might also help get you out of here, but not without consequence.”

“Your scaring me.” I take hold of her hands. “What are you talking about?” This is not what I expected at all. She puts her hand on the side of my face and looks directly into my eyes. She’s scared.

“You’re a Cambion.”

Cambion definition: In medieval legend, a cambion is the half-human offspring of the union between a human male and a succubus, or of an incubus and a human female. The non-human wellspring from whom they believe inherits its supernatural powers and abilities. Source

So really Jane Doe has a Demon for a father and a human mother.

Special mentions: @arazialotis @cyanpintglass @goldenolaf25 @when-innocence-is-gone @jaylynnaredsky @fallen-castiel @spnfanficfavorites@anothertimeinspace @klleexy @flare-chan003 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @imnotalosechester @mary-meee @yascalum @jsamstar@driadgoch @vvinch3st3r @kayarisa@misguidedconqueress @heeeeeether @messy-buns-and-shotguns @breathexxinxxthexxflames @ryantherandomhero @simirachel@supernatural-fangirl13 @lilypalmer1987 @beatlesobsessionlove

#first series #new series #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #cas #angel of the lord

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[HR] [MF] Lance at the Movies

It’s May 5th, 1987 on a drizzly Saturday night in Houston, Texas. Cars drive by on a busy city street. On the narrow sidewalk, Lance, a thin 30 year old man with long brown scraggly hair, walks at a hurried pace. His life isn’t filled with much. Mostly he just likes to sit in his apartment and drink malt liquor. But today is big, today he gets to see Eraserhead on the silver screen, and he is rushing as fast as he can to the River Oaks Theater on West Gray, worried he’s going to be late.

Lance is what many would call a cinephile. He devours movies in his spare time, and spare time is pretty much all he’s got. He lives in a squalid little studio apartment in a not so great part of Texas City. There he watches old horror movies and reruns of The Love Boat on a tiny black and white TV, often into the wee hours of the morning. He goes to bed, usually wasted, on a twin sized sheet-less mattress. He pays the bills by delivering pizzas. He makes more money than he thought he could doing such an easy job but he knows he’s going nowhere. He’s stuck in what feels like a black hole, not aiming to get any better. Just existing and filling his needs. His needs for booze and his needs for cinema.

But today’s special. Today’s an escape from the drudgery of the day to day. Lance gets to go to the city and see one of his favorite films in a cinematic church. On a big screen, in a dark room surrounded by strangers, all brought together to see something beautiful.

He finally arrives at the River Oaks theater. The theater is very old and was built in the 1930s, but is full of history. It’s a beautiful Art Deco movie palace, but recently the balcony was converted into 2 micro theaters. A lot of things have been changing at this theater, they’ve installed new projectors, and more first run films are being show as opposed to repertory programming, mostly because the new and rising popularity of VHS has been keeping people at home to watch older movies. Regardless though, the River Oaks, at least in Lance’s opinion, is still his favorite place to see classic films and cult oddities.

The first time he ever went to River Oaks was in 1982 to see Salo. A film he heard was full of torture and literal shit eating. His mind was blown that a movie like this could actually be shown in a theater, and while he was kind of terrified to see it he drove his beat up 1973 Pinto into town, and had an experience he wouldn’t soon forget. The movie was shocking and disgusting, but also quite boring. Much to his shock though, at the end of the film, police raided the theater and arrested the manager for promoting obscenity. He couldn’t believe what he had walked into, and decided he had to give his business to a cinema who regularly risked it all, as much as possible.

Eraserhead starts at midnight and it’s 10:53pm. Lance is terrified of being late to movies and often arrives way too early. So he goes into a back alley, sits on the ground and breaks out a flask of dark spiced rum, he starts to chug it. An old man walking his German Shepherd passes by and sees Lance. “What tha fuck ARE you doin’?” the old man stammers out. Lance nervously glances over not wanting to deal with this... “Mind your own fuckin’ business!” The old man gasps in shock. “This is a nice goddamn neighborhood! Stop with that degenerate shit, and get out of that alley!” The dog sternly and loudly barks, almost as if in agreeance. The old man walks away and Lance is happy to see him go so he can get back to his drinking.

Lance stumbles into the theater with more than a heavy buzz and sees Howard, the manager who got arrested for showing Salo back in ’82. Lance and Howard have formed a weird friendship over the past 5 years that Lance has been coming to the theater. Lance begged him for a job soon after he discovered the theater and for a while Lance was an apprentice to the River Oaks projectionist... for about a year. He would lug film cans up and down the stairs, clean the equipment. But eventually he was laid off and while he could've pursued this path further at another theater for some reason he didn’t. He became content working in restaurants, and enjoying the theater purely as a customer and not an employee. He certainly didn’t blame Howard for the lay off, the theater was struggling at the time, and they remained friendly. Mainly because both loved booze, and Howard would often take him into his back office to enjoy moonshine with Lance that he regularly bought from his alcoholic mad scientist cousin. Of course this night was no different and Howard and Lance snuck off to the back to drink and shoot the shit.

“You were a good fucking worker man!” Howard blurts out as the two lounge in his office. “I wish I could bring you back on, but you know we can’t afford a second guy up there anymore and Dale’s not gonna leave until he’s fucking dead... this job is everything to him. But why don’t you just go somewhere else, pursue being a projectionist, I really think you could be great at that!” Lance teeters back in forth in his old wooden chair not knowing quite what to say. “I don’t know man... I mean all of the theaters near me are these shitty little corporate places where movies don’t mean shit and it’s all about slinging popcorn between Coke commercials and showings of Three Amigos and Crocodile Dundee. I just don’t like the vibe. I mean I liked being here and if that’s not in the cards then I’m fine where I am.”

“Ah Lance...” Howard sighs dejected. “You know I would always have you working at concessions or whatever, but I know it’s not worth it for you to come all the way up for that.”

“No I totally understand, but everything’s cool! I’m fine where I’m at! I’m having fun, living life, and I get to come out here and see awesome fucking movies with you guys!”

At this point Lance is well past buzzed and into drunk and it’s 10 minutes before showtime. He stumbles out into the lobby and sees Jane at Concessions... she’s beautiful and has fiery red hair and is covered in freckles. Every time Lance sees her he makes weird small talk and the two awkwardly laugh together, but he really just wants to ask her on a date. He wants to take her out to the Pizza Hut buffet and bring her home and watch The Love Boat with her. Today’s going to be different. Today’s going to be special. He’s really going to woo her this time.

“Hey!” Lance blurts out. “Hey.” Jane says meekly “Can I help you?” “You know... I come here a lot, and I always see you! And you’re... and you’re... so freakin’ cute.”

The air is sucked out of the room.

“You know... you’re just beautiful. And... don’t you remember me?” “Yeah... I’ve seen you around.” Jane says through a pained smile. “We always talk about the white chocolate and the milk chocolate and you hate white but I love it!” Lance belts out laughing. “Anyways... I just wanted to say what I really want to say. And that’s would you like to go out with me sometime soon? You know we could go anywhere we could eat, we could go to a park, whatever I’m down with anything!”

Jane sits in silence for a painfully long time... until she finally speaks.

“You know... I’m really just trying to work. And there’s people behind you.”

Everybody looks disgusted at what is happening here.

“Can I get you anything?”

Lance’s smile disappears.

“Uh no... I’m just going to go in.”

The moment has arrived. Eraserhead is playing on the screen in all its glory. Only Lance isn't enjoying it because he has an aching pit in his stomach. He thinks about why he can’t keep a decent job, he thinks about why he puts himself into embarrassing situations. Jack Nance’s face floats back and forth across the screen throughout space. The rocky planet like object. The billowing industrial smoke. The images wash over Lance but he can’t take them in. All of the sudden a German Shepherd starts barking. Lance’s attention snaps over immediately. It’s the old man. He’s sitting in the theater with his German Shepherd sitting in the chair next to him, barking.

Lance leaps up. “YOU! What the fuck are you doing here?!” Everybody in the audience is in shock as Lance runs towards the old man. The old man starts cackling. “I wouldn’t get any closer boy Eva doesn’t really like you!” Eva the German Shepherd growls. As the film flickers across him and the soundtrack drones Lance continues to scream.

“Goddamnit DAD! Why the FUCK do you have to ruin everything! I just wanted to enjoy this FUCKING movie!”

Eva attacks Lance. She tackles him to the ground and viciously rips at his arm. Blood flies as Lance screams horrifically. The Old Man laughs hysterically.

THE END

submitted by /u/Fluid_Manner [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2V4Nt2y

#Blogger #Story

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

Mrs. Weasley followed them upstairs looking grim. 'I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,' she said as they reached the first landing, 'we've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep,' she added to Hermione, 'so try not to wake her up.' 'Asleep, yeah, right,' said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade them goodnight and they were climbing to the next floor. 'If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I'm a Flobberworm....' 'All right, Ron, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. 'Off to bed with you.' ' 'Night,' Harry and Ron said to the twins. 'Sleep tight,' said Fred, winking. Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind Harry with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. Harry put on his pyjamas, took off his glasses, and climbed into his chilly bed while Ron threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly. 'We can't let them out to hunt every night,' Ron explained as he pulled on his maroon pyjamas. 'Dumbledore doesn't want too many owls swooping around the square, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah ... I forgot....' He crossed to the door and bolted it. 'What're you doing that for?' 'Kreacher,' said Ron as he turned off the light. 'First night I was here he came wandering in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find him prowling around your room. Anyway...' He got into his bed, settled down under the covers, then turned to look at Harry in the darkness. Harry could see his outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, 'what d'you reckon?' Harry didn't need to ask what Ron meant. 'Well, they didn't tell us much we couldn't have guessed, did they?' he said, thinking of all that had been said downstairs. 'I mean, all they've really said is that the Order's trying to stop people joining Vol--' There was a sharp intake of breath from Ron. --demort,' said Harry firmly. 'When are you going to start using his name? Sirius and Lupin do.' Ron ignored this last comment. 'Yeah, you're right,' he said, 'we already knew nearly everything they told us, from using the Extendable Ears. The only new bit was--' Crack. 'OUCH!' 'Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum'll be back up here.' 'You two just Apparated on my knees!' 'Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark--' Harry saw the blurred outlines of Fred and George leaping down from Ron's bed. There was a groan of bedsprings and Harry's mattress descended a few inches as George sat down near his feet. 'So, got there yet?' said George eagerly. 'The weapon Sirius mentioned?' said Harry. 'Let slip, more like,' said Fred with relish, now sitting next to Ron. 'We didn't hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?' 'What d'you reckon it is?' said Harry. 'Could be anything,' said Fred. 'But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra curse, can there?' said Ron. 'What's worse than death?' 'Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once,' suggested George. 'Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people,' said Ron learfully. 'He's got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain,' said Harry, 'he doesn't need anything more efficient than that.' There was a pause and Harry knew that the others, like him, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate. 'So who d'you think's got it now?' asked George. 'I hope it's our side,' said Ron, sounding slightly nervous. 'If it is, Dumbledore's probably keeping it,' said Fred. 'Where?' said Ron quickly. 'Hogwarts?' 'Bet it is!' said George. That's where he hid the Philosopher's Stone.' 'A weapon's going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!' said Ron. 'Not necessarily,' said Fred. 'Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,' said George. 'Look at Ginny.' 'What d'you mean?' said Harry. 'You've never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?' 'Shhh!' said Fred, half-rising from the bed. 'Listen!' They fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs. 'Mum,' said George and without further ado there was a loud crack and Harry felt the weight vanish from the end of his bed. A few seconds later, they heard the floorboard creak outside their door; Mrs. Weasley was plainly listening to check whether or not they were talking. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully. The floorboard creaked again and they heard her heading upstairs to check on Fred and George. 'She doesn't trust us at all, you know,' said Ron regretfully. Harry was sure he would not be able to fall asleep; the evening had been so packed with things to think about that he fully expected to lie awake for hours mulling it all over. He wanted to continue talking to Ron, but Mrs. Weasley was now creaking back downstairs again, and once she had gone he distinctly heard others making their way upstairs.... In fact, many-legged creatures were cantering softly up and down outside the bedroom door, and Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was saying, 'Beauties, aren't they, eh, Harry? We'll be studyin' weapons this term....' and Harry saw that the creatures had cannons for heads and were wheeling to face him.... He ducked.... The next thing he knew, he was curled into a warm ball under his bedclothes and George's loud voice was filling the room. 'Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead puffskeins under the sofa.' Half an hour later, Harry and Ron, who had dressed and breakfasted quickly, entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive-green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss-green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end. 'Cover your faces and take a spray,' Mrs. Weasley said to Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. 'It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad--what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years--' Hermione's face was half concealed by a tea towel but Harry distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Mrs. Weasley. 'Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage--' 'You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,' said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. 'I've just been feeding Buckbeak,' he added, in reply to Harry's enquiring look. 'I keep him upstairs in my mother's bedroom. Anyway ... this writing desk...' He dropped the bag of rats into an armchair, then bent over to examine the locked cabinet which, Harry now noticed for the first time, was shaking slightly. 'Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is a boggart,' said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, 'but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out--knowing my mother, it could be something much worse.' 'Right you are, Sirius,' said Mrs. Weasley. They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before. A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand. 'I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!' said Sirius exasperatedly, hurrying out of the room. They heard him thundering clown the stairs as Mrs. Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more: 'Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of flith...' 'Close the door, please, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley. Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mothers portrait because she had stopped screaming. He heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt's saying, 'Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore....' Feeling Mrs Weasley's eyes on the back of his head, Harry regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the doxy party. Mrs. Weasley was bending over to check the page on doxys in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa. 'Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it.' She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned them all forward. 'When I say the word, start spraying immediately,' she said. 'They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket.' She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray. 'All right--squirt!' Harry had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. Harry caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide; it froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud thunk, on to the worn carpet below. Harry picked it up and threw it in the bucket. 'Fred, what are you doing?' said Mrs. Weasley sharply. 'Spray that at once and throw it away!' Harry looked round. Fred was holding a struggling doxy between his forefinger and thumb. 'Right-o,' Fred said brightly, spraying the doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs. Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink. 'We want to experiment with doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes,' George told Harry under his breath. Deftly spraying two doxys at once as they soared straight for his nose, Harry moved closer to George and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, 'What are Skiving Snackboxes?' 'Range of sweets to make you ill,' George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs. Weasley's back. 'Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Fred and I have been developing them this summer. They're double-ended, colour-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half--' '"--which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom." That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway,' whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs. Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray doxys from the floor and adding them to his pocket. 'But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the purple end.' 'Testers?' 'Us,' said Fred. 'We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies--we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat--' 'Mum thought we'd been duelling,' said George. 'Joke shop still on, then?' Harry muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray. 'Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet,' said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, 'so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week.' 'All thanks to you, mate,' said George. 'But don't worry ... Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore.' Harry grinned. He had forced the Weasley twins to take the thousand-Galleon prize money he had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but he was still glad to know that his part in furthering their plans was unknown to Mrs. Weasley. She did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for two of her sons. The de-doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs. Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair, and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying; unconscious doxys lay crammed in the bucket at the foot of them beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks was now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks. 'I think we'll tackle those after lunch.' Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Harry could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Harry was quite sure was blood. The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley. 'Stay here,' she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs. Blacks screeches started up again from down below. 'I'll bring up some sandwiches.' She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons. 'Mundungus!' said Hermione. 'What's he brought all those cauldrons for?' 'Probably looking for a safe place to keep them,' said Harry. 'Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?' 'Yeah, you're right!' said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. 'Blimey, Mum won't like that....' He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped. 'Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley,' Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. 'Can't hear properly ... d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?' 'Might be worth it,' said George. 'I could sneak upstairs and get a pair--' But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice. 'WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!' 'I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else,' said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs. Weasley's voice to permeate the room better, 'it makes such a nice change.' '--COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE--' 'The idiots are letting her get into her stride,' said George, shaking his head. 'You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry--and there goes Sirius's mum again.' Mrs. Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall. George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room. Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike. The elf took absolutely no notice of Harry and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrog's, '...smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do....' 'Hello, Kreacher,' said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap. The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise. 'Kreacher did not see Young Master,' he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still lacing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, 'Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is.' 'Sorry?' said George. 'Didn't catch that last bit.' 'Kreacher said nothing,' said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, 'and there's its twin, unnataral little beasts they are.' Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter. '...and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name. What is he doing here? Kreacher doesn't know...' 'This is Harry, Kreacher,' said Hermione tentatively. 'Harry Potter.' Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. 'The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say--' 'Don't call her a Mudblood!' said Ron and Ginny together, very angrily. 'It doesn't matter,' Hermione whispered, 'he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's--' 'Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying,' said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike. Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry. 'Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it--' 'Don't we all, Kreacher,' said Fred. 'What do you want, anyway?' George asked. Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George. 'Kreacher is cleaning,' he said evasively. 'A likely story,' said a voice behind Harry. Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor. 'Stand up straight,' said Sirius impatiently. 'Now, what are you up to?' 'Kreacher is cleaning,' the elf repeated. 'Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black--' '--and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy,' said Sirius. 'Master always liked his little joke,' said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, 'Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart--' 'My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher,' snapped Sirius. 'She kept herself alive out of pure spite.' Kreacher bowed again as he spoke. 'Whatever Master says,' he muttered furiously. 'Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was--' 'I asked you what you were up to,' said Sirius coldly. 'Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out.' 'Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house,' said the elf, then muttered very fast, 'Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it--' 'I thought it might be that,' said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. 'She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher.' It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room. '--comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too--' 'Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!' said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf. 'Sirius, he's not right in the head,' Hermione pleaded, 'I don't think he realises we can hear him.' 'He's been alone too long,' said Sirius, 'taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little--' 'If you could just set him free,' said Hermione hopefully, 'maybe--' 'We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order,' said Sirius curtly. 'And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it.' Sirius walked across the room to where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Harry and the others followed. The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Harry could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'Toujours pur' 'You're not on here!' said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely. 'I used to be there,' said Sirius, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. 'My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home-- Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath.' 'You ran away from home?' 'When I was about sixteen,' said Sirius. 'I'd had enough.' 'Where did you go?' asked Harry, staring at him. 'Your dad's place,' said Sirius. 'Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out at your dad's in the school holidays, and then when I was seventeen I got a place of my own, my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold--he's been wiped off here too, that's probably why--anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potters for Sunday lunch, though.' 'But ... why did you...?' 'Leave?' Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. 'Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them ... that's him.' Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name 'Regulus Black'. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth. 'He was younger than me,' said Sirius, 'and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.' 'But he died,' said Harry. 'Yeah,' said Sirius. 'Stupid idiot ... he joined the Death Eaters.' 'You're kidding!' 'Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?' said Sirius testily. 'Were--were your parents Death Eaters as well?' 'No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things.... They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.' 'Was he killed by an Auror?' Harry asked tentatively. 'Oh, no,' said Sirius. 'No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death.' 'Lunch,' said Mrs Weasley's voice. She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Harry remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry. 'I haven't looked at this for years. There's Phineas Nigellus ... my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular headmaster Hogwarts ever had ... and Araminta Meliflua ... cousin of my mother's ... tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal ... and dear Aunt Elladora ... she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays ... of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her--he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him....' 'You and Tonks are related?' Harry asked, surprised. 'Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin, said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely. 'No, Andromeda's not on here either, look--' He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa. 'Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so--' Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Harry, however, did not laugh; he was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco. 'You're related to the Malfoys!' 'The pure-blood families are all interrelated,' said Sirius. 'If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods our choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. But there's no point looking for them on here--if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys.' But Harry was now looking at the name to the left of Andromeda's burn: Bellatrix Black, which was connected by a double line to Rodolphus Lestrange. 'Lestrange...' Harry said aloud. The name had stirred something in his memory; he knew it from somewhere, but for a moment he couldn't think where, though it gave him an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach. 'They're in Azkaban,' said Sirius shortly. Harry looked at him curiously. 'Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch, Junior,' said Sirius, in the same brusque voice. 'Rodolphus's brother Rabastan was with them, too.' Then Harry remembered: He had seen Bellatrix Lestrange inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the strange device in which thoughts and memories could be stored: a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort, her pride that she had tried to find him after his downfall and her conviction that she would one day be rewarded for her loyalty. 'You never said she was your--' 'Does it matter if she's my cousin?' snapped Sirius. 'As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?' 'Sorry,' said Harry quickly, 'I didn't mean--I was just surprised, that's all--' 'It doesn't matter, don't apologise,' Sirius mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. 'I don't like being back here,' he said, staring across the drawing room. 'I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again.' Harry understood completely. He knew how he would feel, when he was grown up and thought he was free of the place for ever, to return and live at number four, Privet Drive. 'It's ideal for headquarters, of course,' Sirius said. 'My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call--as if they'd ever have wanted to--and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore's Secret-Keeper for the Order, you know--nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is--that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore....' Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh. 'If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now ... well, my mothers portrait should give you some idea.' He scowled for a moment, then sighed. 'I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you to your hearing--as Snuffles, obviously--so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?' Harry felt as though his stomach had sunk through the dusty carpet. He had not thought about the hearing once since dinner the previous evening; in the excitement of being back with the people he liked best, and hearing everything that was going on, it had completely flown his mind. At Sirius's words, however, the crushing sense of dread returned to him. He stared at Hermione and the Weasleys, all tucking into their sandwiches, and thought how he would feel if they went back to Hogwarts without him. 'Don't worry,' Sirius said. Harry looked up and realised that Sirius had been watching him. 'I'm sure they'll clear you, there's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life.' 'But if they do expel me,' said Harry quietly, 'can I come back here and live with you?' Sirius smiled sadly. 'We'll see.' 'I'd feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys,' Harry pressed him. 'They must be bad if you prefer this place,' said Sirius gloomily. 'Hurry up, you two, or there won't be any food left,' Mrs. Weasley called. Sirius heaved another great sigh, cast a dark look at the tapestry, then he and Harry went to join the others. Harry tried his best not to think about the hearing while he emptied the glass-fronted cabinets that afternoon. Fortunately for him, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, as many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove. 'It's OK,' he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, 'must be Wartcap powder in there.' He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Harry saw George wrap his own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into his already doxy-filled pocket. They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry's arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin. Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy locket that none of them could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for 'services to the Ministry'. 'It means he gave them a load of gold,' said Sirius contemptuously throwing the medal into the rubbish sack. Several times Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip, Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Harry had never heard before. 'It was my father's,' said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. 'Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week.' Mrs. Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody had not dropped by headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it. They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed. Snape might refer to their work as 'cleaning', but in Harry's opinion they were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever they were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, 'Master must do as Master wishes,' before turning away and muttering very loudly, 'but Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudblood and traitors and scum....' At which Sirius, ignoring Hermione's protests, seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room. The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius's mother to start shrieking again, and for Harry and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though they gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation they were able to sneak before Mrs. Weasley recalled them to their tasks. Snape flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to Harry's relief they never came face to face; Harry also caught sight of his Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, and she also seemed too busy to linger. Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help. Tonks joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin, who was staying in the house with Sirius but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped them repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by. Mundungus redeemed himself slightly in Mrs. Weasley's eyes by rescuing Ron from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle him when he removed them from their wardrobe. Despite the fact that he was still sleeping badly, still having dreams about corridors and locked doors that made his scar prickle, Harry was managing to have fun for the first time all summer. As long as he was busy he was happy; when the action abated, however, whenever he dropped his guard, or lay exhausted in bed watching blurred shadows move across the ceiling, the thought of the looming Ministry hearing returned to him. Fear jabbed at his insides like needles as he wondered what was going to happen to him if he was expelled. The idea was so terrible that he did not dare voice it aloud, not even to Ron and Hermione, who, though he often saw them whispering together and casting anxious looks in his direction, followed his lead in not mentioning it. Sometimes, he could not prevent his imagination showing him a faceless Ministry official who was snapping his wand in two and ordering him back to the Dursleys' ... but he would not go. He was determined on that. He would come back here to Grimmauld Place and live with Sirius. He felt as though a brick had dropped into his stomach when Mrs. Weasley turned to him during dinner on Wednesday evening and said quietly, 'I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders.' Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny all stopped talking and looked over at him. Harry nodded and tried to keep eating his chop, but his mouth had become so dry he could not chew. 'How am I getting there?' he asked Mrs. Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned. 'Arthur's taking you to work with him,' said Mrs. Weasley gently. Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table. 'You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing,' he said. Harry looked over at Sirius, but before he could ask the question, Mrs. Weasley had answered it. 'Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I--' '--think he's quite right,' said Sirius through clenched teeth. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. 'When did Dumbledore tell you that?' Harry said, staring at Sirius. 'He came last night, when you were in bed,' said Mr. Weasley. Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry lowered his own eyes to his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been in the house on the eve of his hearing and not asked to see him made him feel, if it were possible, even worse.

#OrderofthePhoenix #HarryPotter

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