Monster

**Black Takeover: One-Day Re-Education Protocol**

(Moiarte3D × Enko × Devin Dickie / QoS hybrid – BNWO NTR sakusei)

The fluorescent lights of the Reclamation Wing never dimmed. They hummed with the same clinical indifference that now ruled Keniabe.

One day after the overthrow of English tyranny, the new President Joshua Farey had spoken from the presidential desk on every screen in the country. His deep voice still echoed in Luis Ortega’s skull:

“Respected citizens of Keniabe… today we celebrate the fall of our oppressors… the end of abuse and racism in our own nation… Starting today our takeover begins… The Black takeover…”

Luis had stood in his living room, soft belly hanging over the waistband of his black shorts, face red, fists clenched. His wife Elena—blonde hair in a high ponytail, white tank stretched tight across heavy breasts, denim shorts riding high on thick thighs—had tried to calm him. Their neighbor Chuku, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, striped polo, had only shrugged and said, “Do what you want; it’s your problem, not mine.”

Julia, their eighteen-year-old daughter, had stormed in from university in her black skull tank and tight leggings, panic in her blue eyes. “Mom, Dad, we have to leave! Classes suspended, riots everywhere!”

Luis had refused. “We will not leave Keniabe. We have money and power. The citizens know they need us. Before we arrived they didn’t even know the internet existed.”

Elena had pleaded. Chuku had warned. The television had repeated the deadline: leave by midnight or accept the new order.

Luis stayed.

At 00:17 the door of the Ortega compound was kicked in.

Now Luis lay naked on a padded medical table in a white-tiled room that smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Thick leather straps locked his wrists above his head, ankles spread wide, a wide black gag filling his mouth so only wet, muffled sounds escaped. His soft white body—pale, lightly haired chest, rounded belly, average cock already flushed and twitching—was completely exposed. A thin catheter line disappeared into the tip of his penis, connected to a clear collection bag that already held a few cloudy milliliters.

Two women stood over him in the exact uniform of the old sakusei wards, now rebranded under the Ministry of Demographic Correction.

Nurse Amara wore a short white dress, black gloves to the elbow, black surgical mask, and sheer black stockings. Her dark skin gleamed under the lights. Beside her, Nurse Keisha—taller, broader hips—adjusted a tray of instruments: vibrating prostate massagers, a heavy silicone onahole packed with smooth metal balls, nipple clamps, a small remote. Both women were Black. Both wore the red Queen-of-Spades pin on their collars.

Behind the observation glass stood Elena and Julia.

Elena’s white tank was gone. She wore only the denim shorts, zipper open, and a thin gold chain that now bore a small black spade pendant resting between her full breasts. Her nipples were already stiff. Julia stood beside her in the black skull top and leggings, face flushed, lips parted, one hand unconsciously pressing between her thighs.

Chuku leaned against the wall behind them, arms crossed, watching with quiet satisfaction.

Amara’s gloved hand closed around Luis’s cock.

“Protocol One,” she said, voice calm and professional through the mask. “Subject Ortega, Luis. Caucasian male, forty-two. Resistance index high. Begin extraction cycle.”

She stroked him with clinical precision—slow, tight, twisting at the head. The metal balls inside the onahole she slid over him next clacked softly with every pass. Luis’s hips jerked. A thick bead of pre-cum welled and was immediately sucked into the catheter.

Keisha pressed a lubed finger against his hole, then a second, then the prostate massager. It hummed to life on the lowest setting. Luis’s eyes rolled. A high, desperate sound forced past the gag.

Elena watched, breathing faster. Julia’s fingers dug into her own thigh.

“Look at how much he leaks already,” Amara murmured, almost affectionate. “White men always do when they finally understand the new order.”

She increased the stroke. The onahole’s internal beads rolled over the frenulum again and again. The prostate toy pulsed deeper. Luis’s soft belly tightened. His thighs shook. The first orgasm hit like a seizure—body arching against the straps, muffled scream, thick ropes of cum pumping straight into the collection bag. The volume reading on the wall monitor jumped: 7.4 ml.

Amara did not stop.

“Next round,” she said.

The machine switched to a higher vibration. Keisha added a second toy—thin, flexible, curling against the prostate while the first continued its relentless pulse. Amara’s gloved hand never left the onahole, pumping in short, merciless strokes. Luis’s cock stayed rigid, oversensitive, leaking continuously. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. Drool soaked the gag and ran down his chin.

Elena stepped closer to the glass. Chuku’s large hand settled on the small of her back, then slid lower, cupping one full ass cheek through the open shorts. She did not pull away.

Julia whispered, “Mom…”

Elena’s voice was hoarse. “Watch. This is what happens when you refuse the new order.”

The second orgasm tore through Luis harder than the first. His entire body convulsed. The bag filled further—11.2 ml cumulative. Amara wiped a glove across his twitching abdomen, collecting the thin trail of semen that had escaped the catheter, and held it up for the observation window.

“Still fighting,” she noted. “Increase intensity.”

Keisha activated the remote. The prostate massager shifted to a deep, grinding rhythm. Amara replaced the onahole with her bare gloved hand and began a brutal edge-and-deny pattern—fast strokes to the brink, then nothing but the vibrating toy inside him. Luis thrashed. The straps creaked. His cock slapped wetly against his belly, purple and leaking.

Outside the glass, Chuku unzipped Elena’s shorts completely. They fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them without looking away from her husband. Julia’s hand slipped inside her own leggings.

Amara finally allowed the third climax. Luis’s scream was raw even through the gag. Cum pulsed in long, thick jets—14.8 ml now. His legs shook uncontrollably. His eyes were glassy.

“Subject is entering phase two sensitivity,” Keisha reported. “Recommend oral reinforcement.”

Amara nodded. She removed the gag. Luis gasped, a broken sound. Before he could form words, Amara straddled his chest, still fully clothed, and lowered her stocking-clad foot to his face.

“Clean,” she ordered.

Luis’s tongue moved automatically. The taste of her sole, the pressure of the sheer nylon, the scent of her—everything mixed with the humiliating knowledge that his wife and daughter were watching. Amara stroked him again with the onahole while he licked. The fourth orgasm arrived almost immediately, weaker volume but longer, more painful. He sobbed into her foot.

Behind the glass, Chuku had Elena bent forward against the observation window, her heavy breasts flattened to the cool surface, her bare ass presented. He pushed into her in one slow, thick thrust. Elena’s mouth opened in a silent cry. Her eyes stayed locked on Luis.

Julia watched her mother take the first stroke, then the second, then the third—each one making Elena’s soft body jolt. Julia’s fingers moved faster inside her leggings.

Amara and Keisha continued the extraction without pause. Toys changed. Hands changed. The collection bag filled. Luis’s cock never went soft; the constant prostate stimulation and the women’s skilled, merciless technique kept him in a state of permanent, aching hardness. Every orgasm after the fifth produced less volume but more tears, more drool, more broken pleas that neither nurse acknowledged.

“You are no longer the head of this household,” Amara told him between strokes. “You are inventory. Your seed is recorded. Your wife and daughter are already being reassigned.”

On the other side of the glass, Chuku fucked Elena with deep, steady strokes, one hand tangled in her blonde hair, the other reaching around to rub her clit. Elena came hard against the window, thighs shaking, still staring at her husband’s ruined expression. When Chuku pulled out and painted her lower back with thick ropes of cum, she did not move away. She only reached back, spread herself, and whispered something that made Chuku smile.

Julia came standing up, legs locked, eyes wide, watching both her mother and her father.

The session continued for another ninety minutes.

By the time the nurses finally powered down the toys and unstrapped Luis’s trembling limbs, the collection bag held 68.3 ml. His cock was raw, red, still twitching with aftershocks. His face was a mess of tears and saliva. His mind felt hollowed out.

Amara removed her mask, revealing full lips and calm dark eyes. She leaned close.

“Tomorrow you report for Phase Three. Your wife has already requested to observe again. Your daughter has been scheduled for orientation. Welcome to the new Keniabe, Mr. Ortega.”

Elena, still naked from the waist down, cum drying on her skin, pressed her palm to the glass. Julia stood beside her, cheeks flushed, leggings damp. Chuku rested a proprietary hand on each of their shoulders.

Luis could only lie there, spent and empty, staring at the family that no longer belonged to him.

The lights hummed on.

The Black takeover had only just begun.

Continuation – Day Two, Reclamation Wing, Extended Protocol

Luis was returned to the same table at 08:00. The straps were tighter. A new catheter had been fitted—thicker, with a small inflatable collar that locked behind the glans so nothing could escape without the nurses’ permission. A second line ran from a bag of clear fluid into a vein in his arm, keeping him hydrated and lightly sedated just enough to prevent full resistance but not enough to dull sensation.

Amara and Keisha were joined today by a third attendant—Supervisor Nia, older, bespectacled, white coat over the same short dress and black stockings. She carried a tablet that displayed Luis’s extraction totals from the previous day and the live feed from the Ortega residence.

On the feed, Elena was on her knees in the living room, naked except for the spade necklace, sucking Chuku’s cock while Julia watched from the couch, already naked, fingers slow between her legs. Chuku’s hand rested on Elena’s head, guiding her. The audio was muted, but the rhythm was unmistakable.

“Subject’s family is adapting well,” Nia noted. “Begin dual-stimulus protocol.”

Amara fitted the heavy onahole again—this one larger, the metal balls heavier, coated in a warming gel that tingled. Keisha pressed a thicker prostate massager into him, this one with a second arm that pressed firmly against the perineum. Both toys activated at once.

Luis’s back arched. A raw cry tore from his throat.

Nia watched the volume monitor. “Maintain for three minutes at intensity four, then edge for ninety seconds. Repeat cycle until bag reaches twenty milliliters.”

They followed the protocol exactly.

Every time Luis approached orgasm the toys slowed, the onahole lifted, and Amara’s gloved fingers merely circled the head, spreading the constant leak of pre-cum. His cock throbbed so hard it hurt. His balls drew up tight. The need to cum became a physical ache that lived behind his eyes.

On the tablet, Chuku had Elena bent over the same couch Luis used to sit on. He fucked her with long, deliberate strokes while Julia knelt beside them, licking where they joined. Elena’s face was turned toward the camera, eyes half-lidded, mouth open. She looked happier than Luis had seen her in years.

The first allowed orgasm of the day hit Luis like a truck. His entire body locked. Cum forced its way past the catheter collar in thick, forced pulses. The bag registered 9.1 ml. Amara did not stop stroking. The prostate toy kept grinding. The second orgasm followed less than two minutes later—smaller volume, sharper pain. Luis sobbed openly.

Nia adjusted her glasses. “Continue. The subject’s resistance is dropping faster than projected.”

Outside the observation glass, the live feed switched to a different angle. Chuku now had both women on the floor. Elena sat on his face. Julia rode him, blonde hair bouncing, mouth open in silent pleasure. Chuku’s large hands gripped Julia’s waist, guiding her. Elena’s head fell back; she came with a visible shudder, thighs clamping around Chuku’s head.

Luis watched while Amara milked a third, then a fourth orgasm from him. His cock felt raw. Every stroke after the third was agony and ecstasy braided together. The collection bag climbed: 22.4 ml… 27.8 ml… 31.6 ml.

Keisha leaned close, mask brushing his ear. “Your daughter took him without a condom. She asked for it. Your wife held her open.”

Luis’s fifth orgasm of the morning was almost dry—thin, painful spurts that still registered on the monitor. His vision whited out. When it cleared, Supervisor Nia was standing directly over him.

“Phase Three begins this afternoon,” she said. “You will be present while your wife and daughter receive their first official branding. You will remain strapped. You will be extracted continuously throughout the ceremony. Any attempt to close your eyes will result in electrical reinforcement.”

She tapped the tablet. A small electrode already rested against the base of his cock.

Luis could only nod, tears still sliding down his temples.

Afternoon – Branding Chamber

The room was larger, circular, with a raised platform in the center. Luis was wheeled in still strapped to the mobile table, cock locked in a clear vacuum cylinder that pulsed gently, keeping him hard and leaking into a new collection line.

Elena and Julia entered naked except for the spade necklaces. Chuku walked behind them, fully clothed, a small branding iron in a portable heater. Two more Black men—tall, muscular, wearing only the red armbands of the Demographic Correction Force—stood at the edges of the room.

Nia addressed the gathering. “Under the new statutes of Keniabe, Caucasian females who remain after the deadline are reclassified as QOS assets. Permanent marking is mandatory. The former head of household will witness and contribute genetic material throughout.”

Elena stepped onto the platform first. She did not hesitate. She bent forward, hands on her knees, presenting the soft curve of her left ass cheek. Chuku pressed the heated iron—small, precise, the shape of a spade—against her skin. The sizzle was brief. Elena’s only reaction was a sharp inhale and a visible shiver that ran down her spine. When the iron lifted, a clean black spade was seared into her flesh.

Julia went next. She looked at her father once—eyes glassy, lips parted—then turned and presented the same place. The iron hissed. She moaned, low and open, and the sound went straight to Luis’s locked cock. The vacuum cylinder pulsed harder. Another spurt of cum was pulled from him.

Amara and Keisha resumed the extraction the moment the branding finished. The vacuum cylinder was removed. The heavy onahole returned. The prostate massager slid home. Luis was forced through three more orgasms in rapid succession while his wife and daughter were bent over the same platform and taken, one after the other, by the two Correction Force men.

Chuku took Elena first—deep, claiming strokes that made her heavy breasts swing. One of the other men guided Julia’s mouth onto him while the second pushed into her from behind. The wet sounds of sex filled the chamber. Luis’s cock was milked in time with every thrust he was forced to watch.

Elena came with a broken cry, looking straight at her husband. Julia came twice, the second time with a high, surprised sob as the man behind her emptied inside her.

Luis’s final orgasm of the session was almost empty—thin fluid, full-body shudders, a long, continuous moan that sounded like surrender.

The collection total for the day: 94.7 ml.

Night – Private Quarters, Ortega Compound (Reassigned)

Luis was returned to the house in a wheelchair, legs too weak to walk. The living room had already been rearranged. The large television still showed President Farey’s face on a loop, but the volume was low. The couch where Elena had been fucked earlier still carried the faint scent of sex.

Elena and Julia were waiting, still naked, the fresh brands on their asses glistening with antiseptic gel. Chuku sat in Luis’s old armchair like he belonged there.

Elena walked to the wheelchair, knelt, and took Luis’s soft, overused cock into her mouth without a word. She sucked gently, cleaning the last traces of the day’s extraction. Julia knelt beside her and licked his balls.

Chuku’s voice was calm. “They asked to do this. They said it would help you understand your new place.”

Luis could only stare at the ceiling while his wife and daughter nursed the last weak dribbles from him. When Elena finally released him, she rested her cheek on his thigh and looked up.

“We’re staying,” she said softly. “All of us. The country is theirs now. We’re part of it.”

Julia nodded, eyes bright. “It feels right, Dad.”

Chuku stood, already hard again. He lifted Elena onto the couch, spread her legs, and pushed back into the still-loose heat of her. Julia climbed up beside them, offering her mouth.

Luis watched from the wheelchair, cock twitching uselessly, the phantom sensation of the day’s milking still pulsing through him.

The lights of the compound stayed on all night.

Outside, the streets of Keniabe belonged to the new order.

Inside, the Ortega family had already been taken.

Extended Protocol – Week One Summary (Ministry Records)

Subject Luis Ortega: daily extraction average 71.4 ml. Resistance index reduced from 8.7 to 2.1. Physical conditioning ongoing.

Assets Elena Ortega and Julia Ortega: fully marked, sexually active with assigned Correction personnel, voluntary participation increasing. Both have requested continued observation of the subject’s sessions.

Neighbor Chuku Okonkwo: granted provisional household authority.

President Farey’s directive remains in force: the Black takeover continues.

Luis’s world had narrowed to the strap table, the gloved hands, the constant demand for more cum, and the sight of his wife and daughter willingly, eagerly, becoming exactly what the new nation required.

And every morning the nurses returned, masks on, stockings smooth, toys ready, and the extraction began again.

The one-day treatment had become the rest of his life.