They clean me up for an purpose they eventually hint at

{uncle_2}, formerly my high school bully, is a tall black man, his muscles are proof that he can effortlessly pick up my tired body four times over. Draped over his shoulder like I’m a helpless piece of meat, I look down at the men who have just fucked me. It’s a surprise that their expressions do not convey them as hungry predators and I assume that they have relieved themselves in and on me enough that they are in a chill mode.

I’m taken into the master bedroom, but before I enter, I see the four men behind go into the other bedrooms. If I recall, I’m the only one in the house, so it’s not clear if someone was here before me who had let them in, either intentionally or by mistake. I doubt they had access from outside. So, it’s only {uncle_2} and I who enter the master bedroom. I’m taken into the bath area, where I hear a familiar voice. “The bath is ready for Charlene, Daddy,” says the voice, feminine, but deepened with age.

“Mom?” I ask, as I’m lowered to my feet. {uncle_2} turns me around forcefully, his hand on my nape, his grip fierce on the sides of my neck. My mother is revealed to be dressed in a full lingerie set, complete with stockings and a garter belt.

“Very good, slut mama,” he addresses her with a name that I would react negatively to, but I fail to do so, seeing how my mother hasn’t reacted in offense. “Where’s that beta-husband of yours?”

My mom glances at the door that leads into the walk-in closet. While still handling me with one hand, he reaches over to open the door, revealing my father pathetically naked, a ball gag in his mouth, nonchalantly jerking off a limp dick while watching what I assume is porn.

“Gooning to his extinction. That’s a good whiteboi,” {uncle_2} mocks my father, using phrases that are foreign to me. “Let’s take a bath together, Charlene.” He pushes me towards the bathtub, which is full of water, dissolved into it a substance that I believe was the remnants of a bath bomb. Without protesting, I lift my legs and enter the bathtub, the nearly hot water a relief to my dirtied body. {uncle_2] enters after me, his hand still on my body. When he sits down in the tub, he lowers my body onto his lap, his semi-hard manhood somewhat under my crotch.

While he had handled me roughly, inserting his cock into my mouth in my living room, while he is with me in this bathtub, his touches are gentle, as if he is actually washing me with the water. While the water and even the warm body is comforting, I’m **** to give in to it and currently, I’m quite tense. “Relax, Charlene, while I clean you up,” he says in his intimidating tone. My mind immediately thinks that his idea of cleaning me up is some demeaning lingo that is similar to what was performed on me downstairs, but I flinch at the roughness of a loofah being rubbed against my arm. His grip on me loosens and it seems like he just lets go. “Are you going to relax or are you going to fight?” he asks. I turn around sharply, ready to give him an equally sharp reply, but his words stop me in my tracks. “When word got around from P.E. class after what they found you wearing underneath your gym shorts, you kinda hid in your shell. In fact, we didn’t see you for two weeks. After that amount of time, most of us forgot about it.”

I’m struck silent, not having anything good to say that would bolster my confidence. I turn back around slowly, allowing myself to loosen as {uncle_2} resumes washing my body.

“From what your roommate said, you willingly took those pills. You appeared to love this body more than your original one,” {uncle_2} continued to mention. “So why bullshit? I don’t think you even complained or fought against the five of us while we gangbanged you downstairs.”

I finally speak up, my voice shuddering a bit, possibly an aftereffect of being manhandled by five black men. “So, why are you cleaning me up? I would think you’d leave me dirty, as my humiliation.”

{uncle_2} immediately has an answer. “You have a visitor. He’ll be here today. We need to get you cleaned up and dressed before he arrives. He’ll give you the news of why this is happening to you.”

A visitor? For me? Who would want to personally meet someone who is currently on X-Change? My intrigue for this stranger coming to my house seems to override my wanting to protest and distance myself from all these black men as well as inquiring about what happened to my parents. I follow the men’s directions, making me presentable for this “visitor”.

I’m led back into the bedroom section of the room, where an outfit is laid out on the bed, complete with undergarments and footwear.