The bad part of town

Obediently and unquestioningly, the girls get barely dressed, eatch wearing a long t-shirt, no pants, no panties.

You’re taking them to the bad part of town, the rough part of town, the black part of town. Once all those dumb 20th Century kumbaya, let’s all live together, laws were struck down, people quickly got back to the way things were. Most cities now have white areas, black areas, Hispanic areas, Asian areas, and so on (no gay areas, since that’s illegal anyways).

But you’re not just going randomly into the black part of town. You have a specific destination in mind. A bar called Acre 41, a place that’s come up again and again in your job researching undesirable, unpatriotic activities. Truth is, you could probably take these two half-dressed white dummies into any bar in that part of town and shit would go down, but might as well go to the most notorious.

The girls barely speak on the drive there. They just sit in the back seat and look pretty. At one point one of them (no reason to learn names) does mutter something. “Mister, I gotta pee.”

“I don’t care.” You respond, parking on the street across from the bar, which looks like a cheap, rundown place.

You walk in and the patrons (not many this early in the day) take notice of you. As does the bartender, a pretty black girl in a tight top. You’ve never been particularly attracted to a black girl before, but this one is quite stunning.

“You a cop?” Is how she greets you.

“No.” You answer with a sardonic grin.

“Bill collector?”

You glance over at the girls, wondering how many bill collectors show up with two little sluts in tow. “No.”

“Then why the fuck you here?” She asks, not exactly politely.

“I bring gifts.” You gesture toward the girls. You can already see a few guys in the bar looking at them like they’re two juicy little pieces of meat.

The bartender licks her lips too, as if she’s suddenly anticipating getting them on the girls. “Door behind me.” She motions to a door. "Better be quick"

So you head through it with the girls following behind and come upon a man in an office, a big, bald, black man, not sitting at a desk but lounging in a big chair that might even be considered a throne.

He gives you just as friendly a greeting. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just a friend bringing some play things for you.” You say, starting to feel like maybe you've made a mistake. No one has been particularly grateful.

The man looks past your at the girls. With two fingers outstretched he wags them up, gesturing for the girls to expose themselves. And they do instantly, lifting up the bottoms of their shirts to show him their glossy, bald, young snatched.

He nods his head approvingly, then back to you. “These bitches kidnapped?”

“Do you really care?” You ask.

“Just need to know if the cops are looking for them.” He smirks

“No.” You answer, relieved that his concern is for himself and not the girls. “They’ve been entrusted to me by their father. No one is looking for them.”

He nods his head approvingly again, and also again turns his attention to the girls. “You… lefty… come up here.” The girl slowly approaches him. “Closer, closer, closer.” Eventually she’s standing between his wide open spread legs. She looks tiny compared to him. And certainly has no ability to resist when he grabs her wrist and puts it on his crotch.

She moans like an animal.

He slides her small hand down his leg a few inches. She moans again. He keeps sliding it down. Her legs begin to shake. She breathes heavily, completely falling into dumb slut mode (even more than before) as her brain tries to comprehend what she’s feeling beneath his pants. Her hand is halfway down his leg by the time he stops it. She moans loud and long. Piss rolls down her leg and puddles on the floor beneath her. Her brain is clearly completely broken, just as you predicted it would be in the presence of a big black cock.

She falls to the ground.

“Now you.” The man points at the other girl, “come here and slurp this mess up.”

The other girl doesn’t hesitate. She walks over, gets down on all fours, lowers her face into the puddle of her sister’s piss and starts to slurp loudly.

The whole thing does not disappoint. You don’t mind being a mere observer. If you didn’t know better, you’d be tempted to admire what this guy is capable of.

“You like that?” He asks the girl who doesn’t stop slurping. “Yeah, of course you do. I think we got us some new urinals.”

And suddenly there’s another man walking toward them. Where did he come from? Has he been in the room behind you all along? He grabs both girls by the wrist and lifts them up. “C’mon, let’s go.” He pulls them back toward the door.

The moaner moans. The slurper protests. “But I’m not done…” but quickly they’re out of the room, the door slamming behind them.

And now it’s just you and the big black guy.

“What’s going to happen to them?” You ask, not concerned, but perhaps hoping maybe to get some hot details about the depravity you’ve set in motion.

“Today they’re gonna be pissmops all day, really get soaked to the bone.” He smiles ear to ear, “Then we’ll clean em off, build their brains back up and send them home. Tomorrow we’ll pick them up from churchschool and do it all again. And then again the next day. And again and again. Really fuck up their heads that way, make em act like normal bitches during the day, and like the little sluts they are at night. We’ll have them tell their retard absentee daddy that they’re staying late at churchschool or spending time at a friends house. And we can keep this shit up for months.” He grabs a bottle from next to his chair and pours himself a drink. “Then, if we’re not bored of ‘em, we’ll make ‘em into fuck pigs for a while, destroy all their holes over and over. And then we'll probably put a baby in them and toss em on the curb.” He shakes the bottle at you. "Want a drink?

“No thanks.” Even though you do.

“Now what do you want as payment?” He asks.

Fucking up your boss's daughters is enough for you. “Nothing.” You say, feeling very charitable “Consider the girls a gift.”

“Hell no.” The man says. “We don’t take gifts from white people. You assholes give us things then come back the next day with the cops and say it’s been stole. We only do payment or fair trade. So tell me, what d'you want? ****? Booze? Bitches?”

You hadn’t even considered this. Your thoughts turn toward that pretty bartender. Would you really?

But he has a different idea. “How bout this? We got a cute little white bitch just spent the last three weeks as a prime asshole licker, brain up and broke real good. We’re probably gonna upgrade her to fuckpig tomorrow, but you can use her today if you want. You can use her however you like. Trust me, you never had one like this."

That also sounds tempting.