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Commissions: Volume 4

The image above represents Sofia in the story America Part IV: Sofia

So round 4 of commissions is here. I could only fit two, but both stories are over 10,000 words long. The first story is a very fun one, the type of thing I never would have ended up writing if it weren’t for commissions, and I’m glad, because I think it turned out extremely well. The second story is the continuation of the America series, which expands the plot into new territory, exploring more of the American experience through the perspective of immigrants.

I’m still taking commissions for anyone interested, the link is here:

Just fyi, the prices in the link above are those listed for the word counts I have there. For the most part, I’ll be sticking to those prices. But if you’d like a story shorter than the smallest tier, or longer one than the largest tier, you can just DM me, on reddit, twitter, or fiverr, and we can work out a reasonable price and completion date. Also, if you're planning on going for a 4,000 word story, it might be a good idea to message me beforehand on fiverr and tell me about your plot synopsis, that way we can work out whether it should be 4,000 words or not. Or maybe the we can flesh out the story more together to make the length work.

Also, if you’d like to commission a story, but don’t want it posted to my site (or you only want it posted with edits), that’s obviously fine, just inform me of it and the story will be between just me and you.


Sleeping Dogs

Min-ha looked over her band. They were beauties, all fashioned from the clay of Korean soil. A soil whose legitimacy had been established by its export to all the countries of the world. In France, Mexico, Uganda, Jordan, America, and even Japan, her team of beauties stood in striking poses, accentuating their pale skin and come-hither eyes, on posters on walls throughout the globe. Omega Seven was their name, as determined by Mr. Park two years ago, back when he looked over the bodies and faces of those previously shy girls in the privacy of his office, his index finger slowly caressing the top of the tortoise statuette which sat on his table as Min-ha stood aside with her arms crossed.

Life for seven young beautiful women in a K-Pop group could be treacherous. And because of it, Min-ha was always on alert. She had determined that if she were to find success through these seven young girls, she would also have to be their protector. Because nobody else could be.

Even still though, this protective part of her was covered beneath layer after layer of strict schoolmaster-esque fury, which whipped the performances of these young talents into beautiful shape.

The sound guy watched from the empty auditorium seats with a big dumb grin as the bodies of the girls, every one of them under 25, moved on sync to the rhythm. Min-ha turned around and shot him a glance, with a stern knitting of her forehead. He looked down at his laptop quickly and got back to work.

The girls stood next to each other in two rows. Each one of them decorated in a different color, that which coincided with their theme.

There was Na-yun, who represented the element of fire. She was the bad girl of the bunch, and her face, now as ever, moved along with the rest of her gyrating and twisting body, wearing a scowl. Her nickname among male fans was Brazil, all due to the large size of her ass, a fact which goaded Mr. Park to demand from Min-ha that the girl be made to wear clothes accentuating this ass. Nasty and untrue rumors were spread that her ass wasn’t real, but her legion of fans, most male, some female, always came in her defense on every message board and twitter thread which besmirched her curvaceous name and image. The soundguy looked up again from his laptop subtly to see her ass shake in her bright red jean shorts.

Next to her stood Ya-min, who represented lightning, and stood, the most visible of them all due to her bright yellow attire. Being the least attractive in face and body amongst the bunch (this was like calling her the least attractive beach in Spain), it was decided early on by Mr. Park and Min-ha that she would be the “hyper-active” one. Her dance moves would periodically double in speed compared to the other girls, often times leading to her having to do the same move twice in the time the other girls would do it once, a gimmick which proved to genuinely help performances, as it gave a nice dynamic to the otherwise lock-step movement of the other girls.

Next was Bo-min, the cute one. She wore bright and fluorescent greens to underline her theme of grass. She was the only girl who danced without shoes. This was to establish the idea that she always desired to have her feet touching “nature’s head of hair.” This earthiness was an important part of her persona, one which Min-ha always helped to encourage. Bo-min was always told to respond to interviewers in a very earnest and humble way. Before the group had really taken off, she was about to earn her master’s degree in Hegelian philosophy. Though nobody in the public was allowed to know of this. She would often have to practice in the mirror, speaking as simply as possible, making sure to not accidentally stumble into a German or French word, which would ruin her façade. On top of that, special concern was always taken to protect and preserve her feet, which were slavishly watched over by experts the very second the band disappeared behind closed doors.

The back row of girls twirled their way around the first, now taking the front place on stage.

The furthest on the left was Hyo-jin. She was half-Japanese. She wore dark blues to represent water. Out of all the girls, she was the most controversial due to her ethnic background. At the same time, many of the young Korean men who seemed to waste so much time spewing vitriol against her, seemed to be, behind the scenes, the ones who spent the most time thinking about her and her exotic facial features.

Next to her was Eun-hye, who wore white fur to represent snow. Ironically all the fur did was make her sweat. She had the biggest bust of all the girls, being bizarrely large for a Korean girl, and Min-ha had to watch with angst in her brow as Mr. Park demanded the tailors to expose more and more of that long unbroken cleavage. Mr. Park seemed to like her the best out of all the girls. It was almost a given that he intended her to be seen as the lead, until she began dating the young actor Chang-dong. Afterward, he never mentioned making her the lead ever again. Instead he only built her fame using more and more exposure of her bust. The polar bear fur anointing it only seemed to get thicker as well, and Min-ha knew that it was Mr. Park’s way of making the poor girl as uncomfortable as possible as an act of revenge.

Ji-hye was next. She stood in her usual dark purple, symbolizing the super-natural. Every few beats she’d click her thumb symbols wrapped around her fingers, as if conjuring spirits up on stage. Purple shawls extended from her wrists down to her hips, giving her an otherworldly vibe, and her gaze was always hazy and distant. The second she crossed the curtain into backstage, her eyes would always light up and her face would fill with color. She was always the first to respond, with a look or a word, when being called. And she talked to everyone with a lucid logical mind. In interviews, her hazy look, as if it were into the miasma of another world, would come back to her effortlessly and she’d speak in strange riddles and cosmic promises. Once in Austria, when the venue caught fire, she was the last out of the venue, as she walked slowly, waiflike, in order to maintain character.

The last on the right was Jung-hwa. She dressed in orange to symbolize sunlight, and in keeping with that, she was always the most cheery. Also, next to Na-yun, she had the thickest thighs, making her especially popular with western audiences. Out of all the girls, she suffered from the most nasty rumor of all. That she was secretly sexually harassing Bo-min and that she once forced the head of that sweet girl in between her thighs.

As pristine and outwardly beautiful as all the girls were, Min-ha, being like their mother, could see the little signs of mounting stress and disillusionment in them. As she barked and hollered in the echoing auditorium, her heart welled up with a fear and empathy. And even as her arms raised to evoke a demand for perfection and efficiency, her soul fell to the darkness below, wanting nothing else than the happiness of these seven little angels who danced before her, training in preparation for the eyes of the world.


The white faces of the cheering German fans surrounded the bus. The girls were frightened as it was, but it was the men which scared Min-ha and the band. The windows were hard to see into, but even still, the girls practiced caution as the bus pulled up in front of the stadium. Bo-min leaned down subtly and removed her shoes and socks. Eun-hye removed her sweater, exposing her gigantic cleavage. Ji-hye’s nervous smile began to slowly fade, being replaced by a dull and distant stoicism. Na-yun stood in the tight nook of the bathroom, slowly removing her sweat pants, revealing the red booty shorts underneath. Jung-hwa, sitting next to Bo-min, got up and stood on the other end of the bus, waiting for it to park. Ya-min sat up, rocking back and forth in defiance of her usual lethargy. Hyo-jin tried her best to look less Japanese.

Once the bus was parked and settled, Min-ha, like a general, whistled with her fingers in her mouth, and the girls got up and rushed out of the bus as one.

Female hands poked out at the band from both sides of the welcoming carpet. The venue’s security pushed back against the throng. Male hands also jutted out at them, though in much more uncomfortable elevations and angles.

Min-ha stood close behind Na-yun, making sure that no hand could grab for the performer’s backside. She felt the young girl’s bottom behind cradled against her crotch, and she could feel the gratitude in her every fibre for it.

Bo-min watched the carpet as she walked, fearing a fan or security guard’s feet would trample over her own.

Eun-hye kept her hands on her chest as if to represent how flattered she was from the adulation. In actuality, it was a method she picked up to keep her chest from being touched.

When the crowd closed further in, Jung-hwa pushed forward. Feeling the shoulders of one of her group-mates, she looked up, and noticing it was Bo-min, she let go quickly and pushed on ahead, almost knocking the smaller girl out of her way.

Ya-min was the first one into the backdoor, having, despite her nature, to move faster than the others. Na-yun and Min-ha came in after, practically attached to one another. Hyo-jin came in after that, her head hunched as if she was trying to bring it down between her shoulders, fearing, even out here in Germany, that a racist fan might throw another object at her. Eun-hye came in next, her big pale breasts shaking from her urgent motion. Jung-hwa came after, rushing in as to avoid Bo-min gaining on her, followed by Ji-hye, whose eyes suddenly found light the moment she got inside. Bo-min was the last, and as she was looking down at her feet as the boots of security shuffled around them, trying to keep screaming German fans at bay.

She saw the door in her upper peripheral, and before she could extend her foot into the venue, she heard a voice. “It’s me,” it said, a phrase which wasn’t all too strange to hear. “I saw you in Austria. And in Poland too.”

Her eyes went wide, and for the first time on the carpet, she took her sights off her feet. She turned around to look at the crowd. All the faces looked the same, none of them strange. None of them even too normal. Even the darker skin Turks and Greeks, and the occasional Asian immigrant or tourist, looked normal amongst the kerfuffle.

Suddenly, she seen a wadded up ball of paper fly out of the throng, hitting her softly in the face. A security guard tried to put his giant German paw up to block it but failed. Bo-min shook her head and then looked down at the paper, which had rolled open slightly and was now resting against her big toe.

“I love you,” it said, in letters individually clipped from magazines and newspapers, something she was unfortunately accustomed to seeing in the past few months. “Let’s be together.”

Her eyes went wide with shock.

He was here.

She went to go turn around, and when she did, she hit a solid wall of flesh. She shrieked.

She looked up, and standing there was a familiar face. One that, surprisingly, made her feel secure. It was Min-ha looking down at her, seeing the horror in her expression, grabbing her instinctually, and pulling her in. Before she shut the door. She looked down at Bo-min’s feet, making sure they weren’t stepped on. Seeing the wadded up ball of paper with those familiar letters inside, her expression didn’t change. It rarely ever did. But internally, she noted it. “He’s here, whoever he is,” she thought. Her face stood blank, but inside, she immediately got to running through what may be needed at some point, god forbid, to keep her girl safe.

She nodded down at the paper as if to say she was ready.

She shut the door.


The girls sat about backstage. Eun-hye chewed on M&M’s when suddenly Min-ha’s voice broke in and the red one she was holding fell from her fingers, landing down into her shirt. She looked down at herself. Looking back up at her was her unbroken cleavage, its black abyss just wide enough to fit one falling piece of candy. The M&M was gone.

Min-ha came in, slapping the back of her hand against her palm. “Perfection, perfection, perfection!” she demanded. “We are in Germany. These people know perfect. They live and breathe perfect. If we give them anything less than that then they’ll see it. Out of all the people in the world, they’ll see it most.”

The girls all looked at the pushy, firm woman. Her black eyes glimmered under the light. Maybe it was just being around them so much, but she was beginning to look like the girls. She was past her salad days, but she still moved with a beauty in her, not just one that was reminiscent of the beauty in her youth. But one which had found its own stumbling up the mountain of age. Thirty-eight years old was no longer as “over-the-hill” as it was in past centuries, not even in Korea. In any other room, Min-ha would have been the prettiest woman there. It was a testament to the goldmine she lectured in front of her that she had been made to look ordinary just by their innocent presences.

Bo-min was still shaking, her feet wrapped up in silk, propped up and resting on their own personal stool. Hyo-jin was in the bathroom with Na-yun, helping her pull her shorts up over her ass again. Ya-min sipped on her required Monster Energy Drink for the purpose of speeding her up.

“In America,” Min-ha said. “The Mi-gooks have a saying. It goes ‘break a leg.’”

Some of the girls snickered.

“It means perform.” She slapped her fingers against the palm of her other hand. “That’s what I want you to do. I want you to perform to the best of your ability. And I want you to show Berlin what you’re made of.”

The girls sat in silence, each one with varying degrees of butterflies in the pits of their stomach. Jung-hwa noticed something vibrating off to the side. She looked up and saw Bo-min sitting there, visibly shaking with an uncharacteristic look of stress in her features over that wadded up piece of paper and the knowledge that her secret “admirer” was now out there somewhere, no longer a blip off in the distance, but a real, breathing thing, one which was thinking of her with equal concern, even if for different reasons.

Bo-min, sensing she was being watched, looked up to see her groupmate looking back at her. She looked at her with eyes that screamed “help.”

Jung-hwa got nervous. She looked down instead.


The girls stood behind the curtain. On its other side, a sea of white faces hidden in darkness waited for them. They could hear the rising and subsiding waves of a cheer, and various islands of cheering amongst it. Min-ha watched the girls from the outer darkness backstage.

“Break a leg, girls,” she said to herself.

The curtain began to rise.

The cheering rose with it.

And then the girls, all standing in position, each a color of the rainbow, jerked with the first note to a loud fanfare, and when the second note came moments later, they jerked against under a flashing light. The third note came much sooner, followed by others, and they, synchronized as one body, moved to each beat, with only one of them moving twice every two or three beats, and the cheering of the crowd rose so that when Na-yun was the first to open her mouth and sing into her headset, she could barely be heard amongst the ocean-crashing reverberation of sound.

“Break a leg,” Min-ha repeated.

The girls, being professionals, every last one of them, sunk deep into their roles and responsibilities in position, vocal and physical performance and whatever that little Je Ne Se Quois was that each of them had. Min-ha’s face didn’t change, but within she was glowing with pride.

Pieces of their Korean flesh moved and gyrated for the foreign crowd. The lights above and the graphics which flashed across the screen, often to highlight whichever of the girls was singing by flashing a pattern or image containing her color, gave the whole spectacle the illusion of being larger than life. Of being perfect, otherworldly, dreamlike.

Behind it, a backstage made of wires and levers sat, like the skeleton beneath beauty. Min-ha stood there, looking out at her girls. Na-yun’s ass looked back at her. Bo-min moved with the absolute confidence as if she had nothing to fear. Jung-hwa’s thighs shook and rippled as she danced, always far enough away from Bo-min. Whenever Eun-hye stepped into the fore, the masculine half of the audience let out a deep-roar which could be heard subtly over the cacophony. Hyo-jin moved with a confidence that she rarely had when performing in Korea or Japan. The only place where she felt like home was anywhere on the globe other than the quarrelling nations which threatened to rip her in two. Ji-hye’s ethereal voice danced through and around the others’. Her thumb cymbals being picked up by mics rigged to her sleeves. Onlookers almost thought she would float, become transparent or just dissolve into mist before everyone. And Ya-min looked as if she was being fast-forwarded, astonishing the crowd, some of whom had never seen a live performance and had only assumed the movements they seen her make in the music videos were sped-up or digitally altered.

As they all moved, the eyes of thousands fixed on them, one set of eyes somehow managed to focus themselves harder than the others, even while the man who owned those eyes stood perfectly still in the crowd.

Bo-min moved about on the stage, her bare feet leaping from and landing back on its rough surface in time with the others.

He kept his eyes focused on her, no matter where she was or what she was doing. His hand was in his pocket.

Min-ha’s eyes glowed with pride above her stoic mouth, the colorful bodies of the girls weaving in and out, around and through the pack in order to shine, retreat, and then to support the next in line, contributing to her shine with her background vocals and dancing.

Bo-min moved forward, peppering the crowd with her sweet innocence. And that’s when Min-ha saw her face twitch. Bo-min backed up, her eyes shut, her singing stopping mid-note. A tight panic ran flush through Min-ha’s veins, first for the performance, but immediately after, and entirely, for her girl when she saw that she failed to recover from this sudden twitch.

That’s when Min-ha saw it, being kicked by Bo-min’s feet. It was another balled up piece of paper.

Na-yun, realizing that something had to be done, moved in, singing the tail-end of Bo-min’s piece, and then transitioning into her own. As she did, Bo-min let out a shriek, falling to the floor. Na-yun didn’t hear it initially, but she could see the stunned faces on the crowd and hear the commotion behind her. She turned to see the girls crowded around Bo-min. All of them except for Jung-hwa, who was the first to run for her, before looking at the crowd and freezing mid-stride, now standing behind the others at a distance, though her worry was just as strong.

Bo-min looked down at the paper at her feet. She then thrashed at it with her heels.

Within its crumpled center sat another message: “You will be mine.”

Bo-min kicked it again and the paper rolled to the end of the stage, tottered, and fell off into the shocked and screaming crowd.

Na-yun looked at her bandmate, whose terror gave way to tears. She then turned around, looked at the crowd.

Among the shocked onlookers, she saw one man who stood out. Stood out because he was facing away from the chaos on stage. He was moving in the opposite direction, toward the seats further out. He was the only person doing this within throwing distance.

Na-yun’s mind was filled with a rage as red as that on her shorts. Without a single thought, she jumped up and into the crowd. Min-ha watched in horror as Na-yun disappeared from view.

Na-yun felt the hands of her fans beneath her, and as if one with her spirit, guiding her forth towards where she wanted to be, in the general direction of the fleeing man, gaining on the back of his blonde head, until, slowing her inner-momentum, and then the momentum without, she felt a hand press, and after pressing, gripping, on her backside. And, with that, more hands came. They rose up to grab her like a tempest, and before she knew it, she was dragged down into a nightmare of blonde faces surrounding her at all degrees, a river of hands running against her body. A hand, still, clutching her right butt-cheek, pulling on it. Her anger bubbled aggressively, and then she could hear it, even over the sound of the shocked crowd, and the circle of ravenous jackals.

It was a tearing noise.

Her bandmates watched with helplessness as Na-yun’s bright red and tattered shorts rose up above the crowd like a trophy in place of her, being washed about like wreckage in water. She couldn’t be seen from the stage. It was as if she was swallowed up by the blonde hair on those German faces. Many among the crowd themselves seemed confused at where the starlet went, though she had no place to be but among them somewhere.

Min-ha rushed to the stage, her expression still didn’t change, but she raised her fingers to her mouth in horror when she saw the red shorts dancing among the fingers and palms of the crowd.

Na-yun gritted her teeth in anger as she felt fingers invading her butthole and pussy. Her butt cheeks were now being kneeded and pulled on by an indeterminate number of men. Their arousal of each only amplified by how star-struck they were. Before her, three or four (it was impossible to count in the flurry) dicks sat protruding from zipped-open jeans. They poked at her face, and she made a concerted effort to keep her mouth closed. The dicks instead pressed lengthwise against her cheeks, forehead, nose, mouth, and chin. She could smell them as vividly as she felt them against her face. It was only when she felt a rough German hand come down and smack her right cheek with real force that she gasped, her mouth opening wide enough for one of the lucky men before her to fit himself inside.

She felt the dick thrusting inside her mouth, against her tongue and cheeks. Its owner was apparently afraid of it falling out again, as his thrusts were conservative. He seemed more eager to keep himself inside than to gain pleasure form the friction. The motion from her being thrust about by the invasive hands behind her did more than enough to stimulate the dick in her mouth. She stayed in this position for what felt like a million years, but was only 6 minutes, when the security found their way to the scene. The other men fled, unhappy to not get the sloppy seconds of the first. The one inside her mouth was so wrapped up in the moment, he didn’t know it was over until his arms were grabbed by security. As he was pulled back, the sudden shock of it caused his balls to tighten. The suddenly relieved Na-yun was shocked to watch as the tip of the cock which had just been in her mouth, opened up and, gushing volley after gushing volley of white cum, sprayed her in her face.

The burly security that rescued her couldn’t help but look down at her, glaring at her giant exposed ass, marvelling at her celebrity face, now coated with cum.

When the other girls ran to the now-emptying floor, Bo-min just sat on the stage, looking down at the carnage her reaction caused, silently.

As Eun-hye came up, the guards looked at her, then back down at Na-yun’s naked ass, and the subtle implication was apparent in their look that part of them wished Eun-hye was in that crowd herself, so they could stumble upon her naked and sullied chest.

The girls stood there, not able to speak, not even able to be understood if they chose to speak, all of them truly feeling, for the first time, like strangers in an absurd land. Even Hyo-jin, who realized she would rather be back in Korea than be here.

The only person not standing there was Min-ha. Instead she stood behind the curtain, beyond the façade of showbusiness, away from the girls and from the lights.

As the girls helped Na-yun up, Min-ha stood with her face resting in her hands. And she was doing something she could only allow herself to do in private. She was crying.


Leon looked over his team. They were barbarians, all carved from the stone of European mountain ranges and hills. Mountain ranges and hill which were a muddy testing ground for the mettle of thousands of unsung warriors. In France, Mexico, Uganda, Jordan, America, and even Japan, his team of professionals waited with muscles tensed, readying their finely-tuned limbs and eagle eyes, in dangerous locations the globe over. Alpha Team was their name, as determined by Parrish McNamara two years ago, back when he scanned over the limbs and faces of those previously inexperienced men in the sleeping quarters of his own bootcamp, his thumb slowly caressing the metal buckle of his belt, which wrapped conscientiously around his waist as Leon stood beside him with his arms at his side.

Life for seven young fit men in a security outfit could be treacherous. And because of it, Leon was always on alert. He had figured that if he was to expect these young men to put their lives on the line for him, he should only have to return that favor. Who else could?

Even still though, this fondness for them was concealed beneath his captain-like demeanor, which brought the efficacy of this unit of fierce warriors into fighting shape.

The Korean agent watched from the empty gym bleachers with her jaw hanging open as the muscles of the men, every one of them under 30, stood at attention. Leon turned around to look at the agent, with a grin formed at the corner of his mouth. She looked down at her phone quickly, and made as if she was answering business texts.

The men stood next to each other in a straight line. Each one of them sporting a patch on their arm representing the animal which best suited them.

There was Trevor, who wore the patch of a wolverine. He was the wildest of the crew, and his face, even now, while motionless and staring ahead, supported a smug grin. His nickname among the others was Harry, all due to the scar on his forehead, a fact which goaded McNamara to request of Leon that the member be made to wear a headband. Wild and unfounded rumors were spread that he got the scar knife-fighting in a bar in Tijuana, but he always denied this, claiming that the he had never been to Tijuana in his entire life. The agent looked up again from her phone subtly to see his muscles tense as they stood at the side of his tactical gear.

Next to him stood James, who wore a cheetah for his patch, and stood there like a sore thumb, his hair being the brightest shade of blonde. He was the least traditionally masculine of the group (this was like calling him the least masculine gorilla in the jungle), and because of this, it was decided early on by McNamara and Leon that he would be trained for quick movements. His combat techniques were much quicker, though lighter hitting, than the other men of the crew, often times leading to him being the first to get a punch or grapple in during a new confrontation, an element which proved to help with unit effectiveness, as it allowed James to identify, move toward, and address a threat seconds earlier than his comrades, who would fall in quickly after to support in the clash.

Next was Julian, the only one who had English as a second language, as he came from France. He wore a patch with a goat, representing his specialty with mountains and hills. He was the only one in the group who operated without gloves. This was because he said he needed to “feel” his way through conflict, rather than trust his other senses. This tactileness was an important part of his methods, methods which Leon always helped to encourage. Julian always responded to threats in a direct and silent way. He was the most well-read of the group, with books like Sun Tzu’s the Art of War and Arian’s Campaigns of Alexander the Great a constant favorite before bed. Though few of the others knew of this tendency of his. He would often have to practice shouting orders when he trained on the mountain, making sure he didn’t slip back into his native French during a command, compromising the efficacy of his unit. When off the clock, as if in reverse to the others, Julian was always wearing gloves to preserve his hands for when they were needed most.

After that was Jonathan. Jonathan was from Canada, though his father was black Caribbean with only his mother being white. He wore the patch of a shark. Out of all the men, he was the one who often rubbed people the wrong way, especially with East Asian clients, who still had trouble trusting people of African descent. Despite this, many of the female Korean clients who took issue with hiring him, seemed to often get caught looking at him from a distance, either out of morbid fascination, or, possibly, something a lot more.

Next in line was Henrik, who wore the patch of a polar bear. His body, in keeping with that, was large with both muscle and masculinely-proportioned fat. He had the biggest chest of all the men, being bizarrely large, even for people in his native land of Norway, and Leon stood aside with a grin as McNamara demanded a bigger uniform and bullet-proof vest from the tactical gear team. McNamara seemed to trust him the best out of all the men. It seemed like he played a special hand behind the scenes in raising Henrik to a place of prominence within the group. That was until some of the men accused him of playing favorites. From then on, he only worked to Henrik’s benefit using Leon as the middle-man. The equipment of Henrik’s always seemed to be of extra-good quality, and Leon could only assume that McNamara was playing some part in that in order to keep the man he saw as his strongest asset as ready for danger as possible.

Further down the line was Arthur. He was born and raised in London, and his symbol was of a crow. He would often walk about with an otherworldly whistle. Allies heard this sound as if it were a totem keeping them safe, with mind’s housing more malicious intentions reading into it as a subtle clue that Arthur had them figured out. Though when Arthur was off the clock, he was known as being very kind and down to earth. When on jobs though, his intense gaze, as if it were the gaze of someone who had died already, would be a permanent aspect of his expression, and he’d talk in sentences which were neutral in their content, but would feel like threats to those with nefarious intentions. Once in Zimbabwe, when a diamond mine the team was guarding was attacked, he was the last out of the firefight, with the intention of still making the team look fierce, even in defeat.

The last one in the line was Noah, also from England. He wore the patch of a rooster, and in keeping with that, he was the most gregarious and sunny of the group. Also, next to Henrik, he was the second biggest. Out of all the men, he was faced with the most vicious running joke. That he was secretly in love with Julian, and that he once offered to suck snake venom from his penis when working in Brazil.

As hard-edged and outwardly tough as all these men were, Leon, being their brother-in-arms, could see the little signs of restlessness and bubbling ambition within them. As he shouted commands in the echoing auditorium, his mind filled up with possible scenarios and dangerous situations. And even as his gaze looked out firmly at his recruits, implying a demand for professionalism, his spirits rose to the auditorium roof above, wanting nothing else than a good time for his 7 impressive men, who stood at attention before him, trained in preparation for guarding 7 tiny Korean girls.


The 7 men stood like sentinels, standing above the seated members of the band. Their military gear and their frightening facial features, now a running joke among the press.

“Omega Seven is now an occupied country,” one pundit in Seoul said. “The last time we had this many waygooks in boots and fatigues in this country was during the Korean War.”

Omega Seven wasn’t in South Korea on this day. Their bus crawled down the busy streets of Paris, until reaching the streets around the venue, where waiting fans put two and two together.

The men, their hands all bare except for Julian’s, stood there in an anticipatory pose, some of them with their hands on the headrests of the girls, others balancing themselves with their arms extended above the windows.

It had been six months since they had first been hired, and they lacked no amount of vigilance, even this deep in without consequence. Not even a single ominous letter to Bo-min, nor a rowdy fan in the crowds, within these entire window of time. The accountants in Busan and Daegu red-flagged the security outfit as an unnecessary investment, but Min-ha refused to hear it. On top of that, even Mr. Park himself was afraid of offending these men by letting them go. He refused to do so without offering a huge severance package, which the accountants weren’t a fan of either. On top of that, he had housed secret concerns for Eun-hye’s safety ever since that day six months ago. As much as it pained him to see her arm-in-arm with a young handsome actor, it would have pained him even more to imagine those big breasts of hers being ravaged by the unwashed hands of that crowd or any other.

Bo-min kneeled down and removed the slippers from her feet, setting them down bare against the cold floor of the bus. Next to her feet were a pair of size 11 boots. She followed the legs of those boots up to see Julian looking down at her, his ungloved hand resting on her headrest. He grinned at her knowingly with the corner of his mouth. “You ready?” he asked.

“Ugh,” she squeaked out and gave him a light bow.

Trevor gripped onto his utility belt when he saw Na-yun shake when she out of her sweat pants. Her red shorts were still a staple of her required wardrobe. Trevor had begged Leon to put a word in to Mr. Park, claiming her wardrobe needed to be changed for her own safety. To keep what had happened to her from happening again. If anything though, her assigned shorts had only gotten tighter. She looked, catching Trevor scowling in her direction, his teeth visibly gritting behind his cheeks. At seeing her looking at him, he softened his expression as if not to scare her. He nodded at her, and she nodded back.

Henrik stood over Eun-hye, stealing glances as her breasts jiggled when she took off her sweater. Eun-hye was the second must gawked at by the men, along with Na-yun. But with Na-yun, the men often were much more subtle, in respect for what had happened to her. Min-ha looked at Henrik, and she followed his grinning gaze down to its source. She then looked back up into his eager eyes. Her face didn’t change, as usual, but she wasn’t pleased with how aggressive Henrik’s looks were getting.

James leaned over and motioned towards Ya-min’s Redbull, implying he wanted a sip, which she promptly gave him, tipping it toward his lips. He looked her in her eyes as he took a big gulp. He handed it back to her, placing it firmly into her soft hands. “I need to be fast,” he said. “In case one of you girls needs me.” Ya-min just looked deeply into his eyes.

Arthur watched as Ji-hye’s smile faded, and was slowly replaced by an ethereal gaze into nothing. Despite her devotion to this character, the purple sash fell from the notch in her wrist, something which she didn’t notice. Min-ha spotted it and put up her hand, about to mention it, when Arthur came to her side, grabbed it and slowly tied it back into place.

“Oh,” Ji-hye said. She nodded her head, her smile coming through, before it was devoured by her performance, leaving on a distant gaze. Arthur stood up and looked out the windows at the sea of screaming face, his look intense as if he were looking into a sea of ghouls.

Jung-hwa got up and was about to move, when Noah put his arm out, stopping her at about the height of her thigh. He motioned forward, where barefoot Bo-min was being helped up by the bare hand of Julian. Jung-hwa blushed, embarrassed that she had almost followed Bo-min out of the bus in front of the Parisian press again.

James and Hyo-jin both stood next to each other as they waited to leave the bus, glad they weren’t leaving it in Korea, where people like them were never welcomed.

The girls stood, as stunning as always, with the big burly foreigners standing in between them, eager to get outside and protect the tiny frames of their clients.

Min-ha looked across the bus to see Leon looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Break a leg,” he said to her with a slightly raised voice.

Min-ha put her fingers in her mouth and whistled.

The uproar from the French fans bled into the bus through its walls, but as the doors opened, the sound became shrill. The girls moved from the bus and out onto the red carpet.

Min-ha rushed to get behind Na-yun, more eager to do so in the past six months than ever before. But when she cleared some of the others to get there, she saw Trevor already following close behind her. His giant frame and terrifying facial features more than scared away any potential hands. The only thing Min-ha had to worry about now, though her face showed no sign of it, was that a French camera would catch his waist being just an inch or two too close to Na-yun’s giant ass and having another nasty rumor spread of that poor girl.

Bo-min looked down at her feet, and, all the while, she saw Julian’s boots walking next to her bare toes. All the while, Julian looked down at her feet with her, guarding them the same way he would have done a whole person. Henrik kept looking over to catch Eun-hye’s jiggling breasts under the flashing lights of the cameras.

In no time, the girls cleared the crowd. Trevor, James, and Henrik got into the venue first, leading the girls, and Min-ha waited outside with the remaining men, who stayed back in case of a last second rush from any crazies (though anything like this had yet to happen).

Leon looked over at Min-ha, and under the lights and screaming he winked at her, as if to say “another good entrance.”

Min-ha looked down.

Then she turned around and went in.

When she got inside, she froze.

For a second, she could have swore she saw Trevor’s hand on Na-yun’s backside. But she knew that couldn’t be. More definitively though, she saw Eun-hye in the corner with Henrik leaning on the wall, his smiling face over her giant breasts. Eun-hye, at seeing Min-ha come in, looked over at her with a nervous expression.

Min-ha rushed over to them. “Problem, bear?”

“No ma’am,” Henrik said with his thick accent. He turned and smiled at her.

She just glared into his eyes firmly. Her expression unchanging, but her intent understood.

As if to dispel this less-than-amicable moment, Henrik said “you know Miss Min-ha, you are very pretty.”

She didn’t respond, seemingly unimpressed with his flattery.

“I can see why he likes you so much.”

She shook her head, as if to shake herself of the curiosity of what it was he was talking about. And then she turned around. When she did, she noticed that Na-yun, Ya-min, Trevor and James weren’t there. The other men had come in, and Julian kneeled down at Bo-min’s feet, wrapping them in silk while the female assistant usually involved with that stood aside, eyebrows furrowed as if she was worried she was out of a job.

After finishing with Bo-min’s foot, he squeezed it with his thumb. Bo-min followed him with her eyes as he stood up and walked off. She followed him until he rounded the corner.

Min-ha looked at the other men, who hovered around or interacted with the band.

The look on her face stood still, the same that it always was. But internally, she made an agreement with herself. That she would protect these girls with everything she had, from threats coming from outside. And now, maybe even more so, from threats coming from within.

She still didn’t know which was worse.


The men stood around back stage with the girls. Eun-hye chewed on M&M’s when suddenly Min-ha’s voice broke in and the red one she was holding fell from her fingers. She looked down at herself. Looking back up at her was a red M&M, resting on the line of her cleavage. Suddenly, a big hand came down and grabbed the M&M. She looked up. Henrik put the candy to his mouth and began chewing on it. He gave Eun-hye a wink.

Min-ha came in, slapping a newspaper against her palm. “Mercenary outfit!?” she demanded. “Please don’t tell me that any of this is true, Leon. Those vultures in Seoul are going to crucify us if it is.”

Leon only looked at the fiery woman. Her black eyes glimmered under the light. Maybe it was just being around her so much, but he felt like he could read the intention of her every expression, no matter how indistinguishable they all were. She was past her salad days, but she still moved with a beauty in her, not just one that was reminiscent of the beauty in her youth. But one which had found its own stumbling up the mountain of age. Thirty-eight years old was no longer as “over-the-hill” as it was in past centuries, at least not to Leon. As far as he was concerned, she was the prettiest woman there. It was a testament to that beauty that Leon could feel that even with the other seven women in the room.

Bo-min sat comfortably, with her feet wrapped up in silk, propped up and resting on Julian’s knees as he took out their pins in preparation for removing them when the time came. Trevor and Jonathan stood outside the bathroom as Hyo-jin and Na-yun struggled with something inside. After a while, Hyo-jin called out for Trevor’s help. Ya-min and James shared sips from the same can of Redbull.

“In America,” Leon said. “We have a saying. It goes ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’”

Min-ha just looked into the strange American’s eyes without saying a word.

“It means don’t probe too deeply when you’re getting what you want.” He pointed at her face with an under turned hand. “That’s what I want you to try to remind yourself. Just let it go. Regardless of what we are, or why we’re here, you’ve seen yourself that it’s a good arrangement. That every dollar is worth it.”

The girls sat in security, each one feeling safe. Jung-hwa looked off to the side. Bo-min sat there, looking at the back of Julian’s blonde head as he unfastened the silk wrappings from her feet, the thought of any creepy admirer far off somewhere in the distance, not even a blip on the radar of her mind.

Bo-min, oblivious to the world outside of Julian, sat there staring at him. She looked at him with eyes that spoke volumes.

Jung-hwa looked down in dejection. She then felt a finger on her chin. It lifted her gaze to see Noah’s smiling face looking back at her.


The men stood behind the stage, and behind Min-ha’s back, watching the girls perform in front of the roaring French crowd.

Most of them either had their sights set on Na-yun’s round, red ass or Eun-hye’s giant white tits. Though Julian didn’t lift his gaze off of Bo-min the entire time. The men had grown to appreciate the girls’ tiny bodies, and cuter than cute faces. The hidden camera which Arthur had planted in their shower at the gym back in Seoul gave all the men looks at their clients’ bodies. When Trevor, seeing the girl’s unbroken ass, called dibs on Na-yun, nobody had the courage to oppose him. On top of that, they all figured his personality went well with hers, because even in the shower, she was scowling.

Eun-hye was the second favorite, all the men marvelling at the size of her breasts. Henrik suggested that whoever gets her first gets her first, just so long as he got her in the end, his justification being the polar-bear fur she wore around her chest making her perfect for him, his animal on his patch being a polar bear. Though he did encourage others to make their move with her, not-so-secretly enjoying the idea of sharing her.

Bo-min was the third favorite, but once the guys were surprised to catch her speaking with Julian in French, it seemed so oddly specific of a moment that nobody wanted to get in its way. On top of that, they had seen Julian in many countries, with many different kinds of woman, but they had never seen him this clearly focused on anyone before. Nor did they see a woman respond as enthusiastically to a man’s foot massages. On top of that, the guys only seen Bo-min nude once, because for every shower afterward, she never seemed to shower with the other girls. The men suspected that Julian had told her to shower alone at some point, probably with a flimsy excuse to her, which she bought trusting Julian’s expertise.

The men loved Jung-hwa’s thick thighs, though they could tell, even without hearing it from the k-pop obsessed press, that Jung-hwa had a thing for women. After Bo-min stopped showering with the others, Jung-hwa would continually look around for her, even months into Bo-min’s absence. Noah knew it was an uphill battle, but there was just something so attractive to him about Jun-hwa’s demeanor, he couldn’t help but take an optimistic swing, even if it meant a miss.

James and Ya-min were a given together as far as the men were concerned. The same was true with Arthur and Ji-hye and Jonathan and Hyo-jin.

Then men, in shifts, took turns looking out at the stage, admiring the clothed bodies of the girls they knew so well, not just beneath the clothing, but beneath the façade of showbusiness. While knowing the nudity of the sweet, young girls wasn’t unique to them, the Royal House of Saud had witnessed them like this too (Omega Seven and its affiliates making tens of millions from the sale of that shower footage), knowing their nudity of spirit was worth so much more to these men. They had protected rich and important clients before, that being their entire clientele, but to now exist beyond the glittering curtain of showbusiness, like the muscular version of the Wizard of Oz, gave them an added sense of purpose, as if the glitter from the girls was rubbing off on their vests and tactical belts.

The men had not only seen Eun-hye’s naked tits, but they saw the surface area beneath them, as she lifted those tits to soap them up from below. They stood a full foot, or sometimes more, above these girls, looking down into their exotic and strange faces. Each one enjoying viewing the bar of soap going between Na-yun’s butt-cheeks. All of them laughing at the rapidity through which Ya-min washed herself, or the wandering eyes of Jung-hwa, her wetness at being nude with the others hidden by the running water which feel over her.

The men looked beyond the girls, at he crowd who cheered at their very presence. That entire crowd, the entire world, could know what these girls looked like beneath, could know all their deepest secrets, loves, fears, and memories, if only Alpha Team decided to share them. The men knew this was the greatest weapon of all. Blackmail. They had used it on many a source of power or fame. They would be using it again. And Leon stood behind them in the darkness, smiling with them, knowing this was their greatest strategic stroke of all.

Trevor look intensely at Na-yun’s highlighted red ass. The strain on those shorts made it seem like they were almost about to burst. He had been stressed out by the thought, fearing that it would reduce the price of their shower footage if publicly available videos of her shorts popping off on stage existed. Trevor turned to Leon. “Look at Na-yun. Our best asset and she’s about to burst out of her shorts. I told you Mr. Park was going to fuck us here.”

“What are you worried about?” Leon asked.

“About the payout.”

“Are you sure?” Leon looked at his recruit in his eyes. “Or are you afraid she’s going to be a slightly less enthusiastic slave once you don’t hold that trump card over her.”

Trevor didn’t say anything. He only looked ahead.

Bo-min sang beautifully, her voice sweet and vulnerable, she then lowered her mic, Na-yun coming in next. She turned to walk back to the supporting line with the other girls, and when she did, Julian caught her eyes.

He looked into hers with a strong intensity. She looked back into his.

Suddenly, her look of serene peace was interrupted by and explosion of tension in her face. She looked down. Julian followed her gaze, down her body, down her legs, down towards shins, and then he looked at her left foot.

A shoe stood on top of it. They both looked up to see Jung-hwa, in her bright orange, standing on it. Jung-hwa stumbled and fell backwards, and when she did, Bo-min fell to the ground and let out a scream.

She clutched her foot, and when Julian impulsively shot forward toward her, Leon stuck out his hand and grabbed the soldier on his shoulder, restraining him.

Na-yun turned around, seeing her bandmate sitting on the ground screaming, her general jolt gave way to something much more terrifying, a sense of déjà vu.

Before she could even understand why, she felt a hand clutching at her ankles.

The crowd erupted into a sound of terror and titillation.

Na-yun fell to the ground.

She watched her bandmates looking over at her as they became more distant from her. She looked past them, back stage, seeing Min-ha’s stony gaze, which only expressed terror through her eyes. Beyond Min-ha was a face which stood much higher in the air, its features vaguely Germanic European in origin. As she felt more legs grab onto her ankles and feet, one even getting as high as her thighs, each of them pulling with accumulating force, trying to bring her down into the mass of the crowd, she saw that indistinct European face explode into the light.

She saw his patch glimmer under the stagelights. It was a wolverine.

Trevor leapt into the crowd.

The audience gasped yet again.

Before Na-yun knew it, she was free. She turned on a dime to look into the crowd. But all she saw was an indistinct chaos.

Trevor’s fists went back and forth, each time connecting with a face, though sometimes he grabbed at wrists or shoulders, throwing people to the ground, against other hostile audience members, or against the base of the stage.

The young men he fought with aggressed with the fury of sexual frustration and lost opportunity, each one lusting to take part in the violation of a beautiful star. Trevor fought back with equal intensity, wanting to do the same. But despite the angers being matched, and Trevor being outnumbered, nothing this cloud of young men could muster could ever hope to outmatch years and years of training and field duty.

The sheltered k-pop audience behind the commotion almost seemed to be beyond registering what they were seeing, the violence and fury of it being too much for their minds to understand. The muscular balls of rage moved with a deliberateness that seemed too professional for his level of visible anger, yet the anger dripped from the every subtlety in the way his fists flew and his chin moved to dodge every attack.

One of the young man stood back, his kidney feeling like it was about to burst. He watched from a slight distance as Trevor broke another fan’s wrists, and then lifted his foot, bringing it down against the shin of another, busting the poor man’s ankle.

The last thing the young man thought of before he made his next move was Na-yun’s perfect ass in red.

He pulled out a knife.

He lunged toward Trevor, who was turned away from the glimmering blade.

Min-ha watched with a thankful heart as the girls pulled Na-yun away from the stage’s edge. The friction of her shorts against the stage almost curled them at the waist, rolling them off of her giant ass. Luckily, Hyo-jin noticed this, and she reached for Na-yun’s hips, lifted her up onto her feet before they could be rolled down any further.

When Na-yun was safe, she spun around and looked apprehensively into the crowd. Leon did the same.

Suddenly, to the shock of onlookers, a pair of tactical pants rose above the fury, draping itself on the stage’s end.

The men ran out from the darkness backstage and leapt into the crowd.

Within seconds, all the offending young men lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

The girls looked down into the chaos, Na-yun most of all.

Trevor looked up at them, seeing Na-yun’s face, and the curve of her ass from the front. He saw her red shorts still securely attached to her. He smiled.

Then he noticed her face going lower. He followed her gaze downward, as did his comrades and the other members of the band, going past the knife-wound in his side, down past the end of his shirt and vest, lower, lower, and then Trevor saw it. His pubic hairs.

They went lower, and hanging there against Trevor’s thigh was his big cock.

He looked back up at the girls on the stage, they all looking down it. Na-yun kept her eyes on it, and then her gaze slowly dragged back upward, looking Trevor in his eyes. Her gaze was deep. Her usual scowl was gone.

Trevor’s dick twitched.


Min-ha tried to argue with the staff in English, but they only objected to her in French.

“I need to see him,” she said. “He works for me.”

A doctor came out with a look of empathetic authority on his face.

“Is everything alright ma’am?”

“I need to see him. He works for me.”

“And see him you shall, madame. But now is not the time.”

She growled at the doctor, enraged at his white face, knowing that in Korea nobody would have the authority to talk to the manager of Omega Seven like this.

“I’m sorry madam. But protocol is protocol.”

She had barely understood what the English word protocol meant to begin with, but the word was near incomprehensible thanks to the doctors French accent.

“Just let me in,” she demanded.

“Madame,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

Seeing a red as bright as the right of Na-yun shorts, she pushed past the doctor with a surprising amount of force for her modest size. Even he seemed to be surprised, and she rushed down the hall.

She looked into every room as she went, seeing everybody except for Trevor. As she neared the only room left, she took a deep breath in preparation for what she might see.

It turned out to not be enough.

As she rounded the corner in the room, a sudden circle of red flashed into her eye-sight.

That circle of red lay flat against the ground.

Above it only stood a pale-white – and very large – naked ass.

A rough and glided against the cheek of that ass, and then it squeezed.

Min-ha gasped.

The doctor came behind her. “I told you madame.”

Na-yun turned her head, looking back into Min-ha’s face. Seeing her there, she became embarrassed.

Trevor looked down at Na-yun’s hand, which was wrapped against his naked and stiff cock. He looked up at Na-yun. “Ignore her,” he said. “Keep playing with it.” He let go of his grip on her butt-cheek and he gave it a smack. “I want you to sit on it.”

Na-yun looked at him, as if to ask with her surprise whether that term meant what it sounded like.

“Go on,” he said, nodding toward his dick. “Sit on it.”

“Na-yun, no,” Min-ha protested.

It didn’t seem to mean much. She watched helplessly as her Na-yun climbed the bed, sending an expression of pain into Trevor’s face, which he promptly set aside, helping to guide her ass down onto his welcoming member.

Min-ha watched as the big white dick pressed into the hole of Na-yun, before pushing within it, and she watched as Na-yun’s ass slowly dropped down, swallowing the whole of Trevor’s cock, her butt-cheeks resting on his beige thighs, the both of them seemed to shudder with pleasure.

Min-ha’s expression never changed, but the intensity in the way she left the room made it obvious how she felt.

The doctor stood in the doorway. Watching the giant Korean ass ride the equally fitting cock.


“I want him fired,” she yelled, her finger pointing at his face.

Leon looked down at her. “Fired for what?”

“Are you not listening? Are all you waygooks mentally deficient?”

Leon looked down at her with a grin. “I think it’s you gooks who have problems thinking.” He put a real emphasis on the word gook.

“That’s it!” She said. “I want you all gone.”

“Oh,” Leon replied. “Is that the thanks we get? We saved one of your girls from being raped a second time, and now you’re mad because she’s returning the favor?”

“You’re not here to fuck my talent,” Min-ha exploded. “You’re here to protect them.” Even in her rage, her face was statuesque.

“Well no,” Leon said. “That’s not why we’re here. You’re paying us to do it, but that’s not our end goal.”

Min-ha looked up at the stony and scarred face of the man. She was silent.

“Here,” Leon said, pulling out his phone. “You want to see something?”

Min-ha wasn’t sure, but she looked down at the face of his phone regardless, her fear taking a back seat to her rising curiosity.

“Here, look at this.”

He clicked on some incomprehensible symbol in a matrix of many others. Suddenly, they could both see a room.

It was a hotel room. It sat empty. Min-ha looked over at Leon. Leon furrowed his brow, then he looked down at his watch with confusion.

Suddenly, a giant pair of tits sweeped into view, along with wild panting and moaning.

Henrik stood behind the pale woman, who was now very clearly, as he pulled her away from the hidden camera, Eun-hye.

“Fuck,” he said, and he gripped her tits in his giant palm, its flesh squeezing through his thick fingers.

“Exhibit A,” said Leon.

He clicked out and then clicked on another video.

It was of another hotel room, this one with James and Ya-min both on the bed, fucking like rabbits.

“I hope they don’t cum as fast as they fuck,” Leon said. “Longer videos are more exciting for buyers.”

He clicked on another.

Hyo-jin’s thin lips pressed wetly against Jonathan’s thick and juicy lips.

“Imagine if they have a kid together,” Leon said. “They’d be four races. Which country could they ever hope to call home?”

Min-ha didn’t say a word, only feeling her insides being filled with a rising hopelessness, and a dawning and sudden horror. The colors on the screen were so intensely colorful and bright, but it was as if she was seeing all the colors within blackness.

Next was a room with four bodies in it. Julian sat on a couch with Bo-min sitting on his cock, bouncing up and down on it, her bare and unguarded soles facing the camera. Jung-hwa leaned in and kissed her passionately on her lips. Noah sat at the other end of the couch, watching Jung-hwa kiss, jerking off passionately to it, as Jung-hwa’s thighs rippled with the motion of Bo-min fingers inside her body.

“I guess what they said about Jung-hwa is true. And Bo-min doesn’t seem to be the sweet girl everyone thinks she is.”

Min-ha lowered her head.

She then felt a finger on her chin.

“You’re going to want to look up,” Leon said. “You’re their guardian, aren’t you. You have to keep tabs on everything.”

Arthur stood, his butt poked outward, with Ji-hye behind him, her purple sashes still tied to her wrists and ankles, accentuating her nakedness otherwise. Ji-hye opened up the white man’s butt cheeks and she leaned in and ate his ass from behind. He then reached behind himself, grabbing her hand, and bringing it toward his front, placing it on his dick, which Ji-hye promptly began to jerk off.

“Wow, Ji-hye living up to her image behind closed doors for once. I guess she really does probe deep into the dark unknown afterall.”

“Enough,” Min-ha said.

“Just wait,” Leon said. “I want to make sure my boys finish.”


“You should make sure your girls get the same. It’s not as much of a guarantee after all.”

“How much do you want?”

“That’s already being settled with Mr. Park.”

Min-ha was looking at the ground. “Yet you’re showing this to me. How much do you want?”

Leon looked at the pretty lady. “Why, everything of course.”

“Take from me, and me alone. The girls did nothing to deserve this.”

“We’re getting more than enough from the label, and from Coca-cola and Samsung for all this. On top of that, we have interested and covert buyers around the globe that are more than capable of paying us for all the trouble. There’s no reason for us to rob seven sweet girls.” He looked down at the screen of his phone and nodded to it. “Especially when they’ve given us more than enough, and all of it through their own accord.”

“Okay then, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I’m not going to rob you either,” he said. “What kind of monster would I have to be to rob the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

“I can scrounge up enough to-“ Min-ha stopped dead.

“I can tell I’m starting to really get used to you,” Leon said. “Your face never changes and I can still tell when you’re surprised.”

He looked her deep in the eyes. Min-ha began to back up. As she did, Leon moved towards her.

“What are you doing?” she said.

Leon smiled, looming over her like a giant.

“Taking what I want,” he said.

“And what do you want?” she asked with a cracking voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said.

Min-ha felt the wall make violent contact with her back. Leon closed the distance. “I have a question to ask you. It’s quite the personal one, but I feel like we know each other well enough now.”

Min-ha didn’t say anything. Leon could feel the fear in her, and, he thought, a slight bit of anticipation.

“Have you… how can I say this without coming across like a brash American? Have you… ever been fucked before?”

Min-ha, as if shell-shocked by the question, answered it straight. “I’m not a virgin,” she said. “Not for a long time now.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Leon said, leaning in closer. “I didn’t ask if you’ve had sex. I asked if you’ve been fucked.” He looked down at her with a dominant, serious gaze. “Have you been bent over, and had your pussy stretched by an American cock?”

The only thing that came from Min-ha’s mouth was a squeak from the back of her throat.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said.

He leaned in and began to kiss her.

Her eyes shot open, and then after a few seconds with his lips against hers, it was as if she had just remembered to resist. She struggled against him, but her limbs were grabbed by his powerful arms. She could feel his rock-hard chest against hers as she struggled for breath.

“Between my boys and your girls,” he said between breathy kisses. “We’ve made quite the family together. I think it’s time we consummate. Mommy and daddy are going to fuck.”

He grabbed her shirt and ripped it wide open. She tilted her head back in resistance, but he only took that as an invitation to coat her throat with kisses.

“Oh,” Leon said in ecstasy. “You people are so strange and beautiful to look at.” He looked down into her narrow eyes, which now seemed to look up at him, as if trying to register the claim from its other side. She looked up into his sculpted, articulated American face.

He shot her a wink, and then she felt his hand plunge into the front of her pants and panties. He then inserted his fingers inside of her. It was only a surprise to her that they went in so easily. She was wet.

Within minutes, Min-ha’s body was decorated by the torn shreds of her clothing, which all hung haphazardly from her limbs, even her panties hung from her ankle, which bopped in the air, being held up there by Leon’s hand against the inside of her knee. His big American cock, bigger than any she had known by a country mile, plunged in and out of her, and she moaned with pleasure. He then took it out of her and demanded that she take it in her mouth. “Suck it to perfection,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking for. Perfection.”

The cock pushed through her mouth mercilessly like a cobra through a rabbit’s hole. She knew that thousands of invisible nerve endings, each one contributing to his pleasure, now existed inside the wet orifice of her mouth, and with that, cock drunk, she let her tongue work its way in dazzling patters, twirls and bops and changes in speed, all designed and choreographed by her to do the best she could for that eager piece of flesh.

Min-ha could feel the sensation like a dropping of uniform in the throne room of her psyche. She had gone from manager, choreographer, and matriarch of one of the planet earth’s most popular musical acts to being nothing more than Leon’s cock-sucker, and with the fall in that wardrobe she felt a sudden liberation. She released the cock from her mouth and sucked his balls with glee, letting her tongue wander to the space where his testicles and his thighs met, licking the crevice just to hear him moan with pleasure. She had never felt more attracted to a man, more beholden to his state-of-mind and judgment, and more addicted to his smell and taste.

He grabbed her, picking her up effortlessly again, with his hand under the crook of her knee, the underwear still hanging from her ankle, and he inserted his mouth-wet cock back into her even wetter pussy.

Just as he began thrusting, there was a noise as if the outer door had opened. She heard a team of feminine voices, each one speaking Korean in tones she knew as well as her own. In tones which serenaded the earth’s various nations.

The girls opened the door to see Min-ha standing there, Leon behind her, fucking her with real and uninterrupted intensity.

And as Min-ha looked back at her girls, proud of them, they returned their sevens gazes with satisfaction. Because Min-ha, the woman who had spent so much of her time, freedom and effort guiding and protecting them, could now finally have a moment for herself.

Min-ha’s mouth hung open, their corners curled up into an idiot smile, her eyes alight with otherworldly pleasure and bliss.

Leon took an extra deep plunge within and she erupted into a helpless and adorable squeak.


America Part IV: Sofia

Sofia sat in the night darkness, huddled up with two of her four brothers. The other two only sat nearby, each on his own, watching the sight happening before them within the beam of the flashlight, which tottered nearby along the dusty floor of the shack.

One of the men sat, naked from the waist down, on the dirty floor, his legs spread, and his feet invisible in the darkness out of the light. The other man rested on his knees, his hips moving back and forth. Every thrust forward was a smacking noise. Sofia and her four brothers watched as their mom’s naked brown ass, looking harsh in the electric light, jiggled with every slap by the hips of the dirty man. They all remained thankful they couldn’t make out his face, as they had grown fearful of his missing teeth and his gigantic smile.

The man sitting down leaned over and grabbed the flashlight, and then thrust it before his crotch. Sofia’s mom squinted. He pressed his palm against her forehead and pushed her head back. His brown penis fell out of her mouth. “My balls,” he said in Spanish, and he directed Sofia’s mom downward, closer to the dirty floor of the abandoned shack, and the five children of the woman watched as their mother licked the balls that were so close to the dust on the ground.

Sofia and her brothers had only lost their father a week earlier. They heard the gunshot come from the down the street, and nobody, not even Sofia’s mother, expected that it would be her husband who had been the bullet’s subject. When they received the news, Sofia’s mother only allowed herself a minimum amount of time to grieve. With her husband gone, there was no breadwinner, and she knew that her five children would begin to starve. Within a few days, she had found her coyotes, ones she was told were reliable.

It was only halfway to the American border, when she and her five children were at their most vulnerable, that the coyotes told her her initial payment wouldn’t be enough. So she offered them everything she had. They took that gladly, but they said they still needed more.

Sofia’s mother looked at them with a neutral glare, one without surprise or shock, somehow knowing in the back of her mind that it was going to be like this.

The two men looked back at her, one with his giant toothless smile.

To the kids, the naked bodies of these men reminded them of their dad getting ready for work in the early morning twilight, but only in faint hints, otherwise appearing like barbaric apparitions, goblins from out the ubiquitous darkness outside the flashlight beam. Their rough and dirty hands pawed at the woman’s voluptuous body, smacking and squeezing it, showing the woman’s butthole to her children with the pointed ray of the light.

“In America,” the smarter of the two men said as he looked at his pupils. “This is where Uncle Sam fucks you.”

The two men subjected the voluptuous dream of a woman to every conceivable indignity they could pull out of the darkness. Whenever she’d hesitate, they’d remind her that America was too far to make it there on her own, but she was too close to go back now. She would never hesitate for long after this reminder.

The two men smiled extra-wide, happy with their career choice, not eager (they would save this for later) to let it be known that this was their first outing (they were doing little more than following the N on their compass).

Sofia’s mom took it all silently.

The flashlight, which had continually illuminated the moment, even if just in broken pieces, was eventually knocked to the side, rolling toward Sofia’s foot. The five children sat in the darkness, hearing the noises, but thankful to be freed from the sights.

Then they heard something.

It was their mother. They heard something from her that they never had before.

She was sobbing.

Sofia, upon realizing it, grabbed the flashlight and shot its beam forward.

In the perfect circle of light, Sofia and her brothers saw their mom’s gooch with the penises of the men, one in one hole, and the other in the other hole, going in and out into their mom.

Sofia dropped the flashlight, and it rolled, until its beam rolled onto their mom’s foot, with two much larger feet pressing against it on both sides.

The sobbing continued.

When Sofia woke up the next morning, the faded light of the sun was shining through the window of the abandoned shack.

One of the coyotes slept over in the corner, still naked from the waist down. The other one had his head resting on the woman’s ass. He was laying there, as naked as his partner, but not quite as naked as the woman. He was looking up at the roof of the shack with a grin, as if it were a blue and peaceful sky. His cock was throbbing.

Sofia looked over at him, her terror giving way to a strange fascination. His dick throbbed. She looked down at it. It twitched as if in response.

As she looked at the strange and ugly sight, she felt as if someone were watching her. She looked up to see the face of the man. He looked over at her with a smile. He winked.

Sofia’s mom had apparently been faking sleep, as she seemed to open her eyes and look back at the man who had been using her ass as a pillow, just as that man looked at her daughter.

She reached for him, grabbing his penis, terrified that he’d turn his attention toward Sofia. He looked at the woman, lifting his head off her ass. He looked at Sofia. “Your mom must really love you,” he said with a soft voice, trying not to wake up his partner or the other children. He grabbed the mother by her wrists and got up with her. Then he looked at Sofia. “Here, let me show you.”

He lowered the Sofia’s mother to her knees, he turned around, and then he looked over his shoulder and down into her eyes. She looked up into his, without word or expression. He nodded to her.

Sofia watched as her mom’s face was all but eaten between the strange man’s butt-cheeks. Sofia watched, a tear rolling down her cheek, as the butt-cheeks were rubbed up and down her mom’s face mercilessly.

The man looked into Sofia’s eyes, he looked up and down her developing body, seeing in it the traces of her mother’s in early bloom. He looked back up into her eyes. “Most daughters will never get to see that their mother’s love them this much.” He smiled at her toothlessly. He pointed, as if through the wall of the shack, towards the North. “Keep that in mind when you cross that border.”

Decades later, Sofia stood over her mother’s coffin, looking down into her resting face. Her son Leo stood with his hands over each other in all black, looking at his mom in her black dress, which hugged her shapely and voluptuous body. He had never seen his mother kiss his grandmother before, and he had always wondered why, especially since she seemed so eager to kiss the cheek of everybody else in the family, including his.

Sofia looked down at the face, its past beauty still apparent in faded form, buried beneath a lifetime of resilience and hard-made decisions. “Thank you, mom,” she said. And then, for the first time since her trek through the desert as a teenager, she leaned down and kissed her mother on her cheek.


John sat next to his mother, the stiffness of the bleacher bench they shared causing the flesh of her ass to push into the side of his. John didn’t reposition himself. He knew that his mom’s weight gain, thanks to a hardy American diet, was a point of insecurity for her. From John’s perspective, his mother was just getting more shapely and voluptuous, more “American,” with most of the weight going to giant breasts and her fat ass. Sitting next to her now, he longed more than anything, to find her passed out on that couch again.

It was because of that one night, he had told Tom in private that he was no longer a virgin. Tom pushed his shoulder and said, “yeah, sure.” John insisted, but when Tom asked with who, John kept his lips shut tightly, only increasing Tom’s indignant skepticism. Technically it was a lie, John never inserted himself into his own mother, at least not in the place where it counts. But every time he looked at his mother’s pink mouth, he smiled internally, knowing exactly what it felt like wrapped around his hard cock. Sometimes when he came out of his room, seeing his mom sitting there on the very same couch, he imagined himself, straddling her, fucking her in her mouth there, as seen from a third party. He still could barely believe that that was a thing which happened in actual reality. It felt like a dream.

The closest thing he had to allow himself to relive the moment was at home, on his computer hard-drive. Dylan had placed his little instrument of violation in that bathroom perfectly, John had learned when he first plugged that camera into his computer. Amy no longer had control over her own naked image, and as John and Amy sat there, surrounded by the unfamiliar nature of this sport together, that American enthusiasm surprising the both of them, even though they knew through media and culture to expect it, John’s fascination was only half as bright as his mother’s, as his mind was elsewhere. Namely on the footage he had placed into Dylan’s hand. Dylan shook as he received it, though he tried to play it cool as always. That was a few days ago.

Dylan sat there, on the highest row of benches in his leather jacket, leaning against the varnished backrest with his hands in his pocket. Every once in a while he’d look down at John and his mom, and two times he even caught John looking back up at him. They exchanged a charged but awkward glance.

Tom caught the ball as it rebounded off the basket, and he dribbled it up the court as his teammates moved up with him, Leo most of all. Amy had leaned over earlier, asking John who the team “leader” was, and John informed her that the captain was Leo. He saw a weird shock in her face, and though she covered it quickly, he knew what it was. For a split second, she thought that Leo couldn’t be the team captain, because the team captain would have to be white.

She knew it was a dumb thought, and John could see that in her. She knew that it wasn’t how this country worked, and she also knew that she should be thankful that it wasn’t. Her own son, yellow and not white, sat next to her, hopefully with a future ahead of him in this very nation. It was supposed to be a meritocracy. And when Leo received the pass from Tom, who then just stood back with a look of amused resignation, and Leo jumped just before the three-point line, sending the ball in a beautiful arc, in through the steel ring of the basket with a satisfying swoosh, it was easy to see that at least in this basketball game, a meritocracy it was.

John remembered what it was like, being the team “leader” back home. He’d receive the pass and then dribble quickly past the others, and they’d move to stop him, and do so in futility, as he’d bypass them, get in close, jump, shoot, hit the backboard, and watch the ball dance along the rim, skirting its inner ring, before falling inward, adding another two points to his team’s side of the board before the ball could even make contact with the ground.

He'd look out at the crowd, and they’d look back at him, clapping respectfully, without the wild fury or release that he now learned was common in America, and he’d see his mother in the crowd, proudest of all. And the other smiling female faces, their intention for looking into his eyes very different from that of his mother.

John sat now, in America, hearing those around him erupt into Dionysian frenzy, as if these moments were being jotted down into the record-keeping of the universe.

Above and beyond all the cheering, John could hear one female voice which rose, even above the others. Leo looked up into the bleachers, seeing his mom Sofia, in her yellow blouse and green shorts, standing on her feet and cheering for him in Spanish. Every time she did, eyes would turn to look at her, some, like Amy, just to find the source of the noise, others, like John, in hopes that she was standing up again, and he could get a good look at her perfect round ass, which shaped itself perfectly within her green shorts.

This time he could.

Then Sofia sat back down. She looked over at her husband Andre, a tall and distinguished black man, and smiled into his eyes, her joy flowing from her as naturally as rain water fell from the sky. John, trying to get a better look at Sofia’s ass through subtle means and failing, saw Sofia’s hand grip onto her husbands, and he watched as their differently-hued fingers wrapped around each other’s tightly.

The cheerleaders began their little cheer, and it snapped John’s attention toward them. Danielle stood, a brick in the pyramid the cheerleading team had formed, with the men, lucky as ducks, standing there as its base.

One of those men, muscular and blonde, stood underneath Danielle, whose sneakers rested on his palms. John admired the shape of Danielle’s body as he went up, noting how fat her ass got when she was in a moment of muscular tension. Next to her was Madison, her body thin and unremarkable, but her presence offensive to John, entirely due to her mean attitude and subtle racism. The girls stood in place, the ones at the edges with their legs poking out as if in mid-kick, giving off the slightest glimpse of their panties. And there, standing on the top of the pyramid, like a star or angel (both metaphors were apt) above a Christmas tree, was Tom’s sister Mia. The pyramid appeared deceptively perfect, no one being able to see it wobble even an inch, if it weren’t for two things which gave away the truth of its slight instability. The first indicator that the pyramid was like jello was the swaying and jiggling of Mia’s right tit, which was bigger than every right tit in the school. The second indicator was the swaying and jiggling of Mia’s left tit, which was bigger than any left tit in school. These giant globes of milky flesh sat on the top of the pyramid, throwing off its balance only that much more as they hung below Mia’s grinning face.

Everybody watched the young woman standing proudly in the air, held up by the slavery of her peers, as she smiled with her perfect dimples under her golden blonde hair, a more agile and hopeful version of her mother. Everyone watched except for Tom, who tried to ignore that everybody was watching. He ignored it with as much dexterity as he ignored the fact that his parents weren’t here to watch his game, yet again.

Dylan sat there, still leaning back, with his foot obnoxiously placed between two parents on the bench below his. He looked over at Mia and smiled to himself.

When the buzzer went off, the bleachers exploded into a standing cheer, with only John, Amy, and Dylan still sitting down. John and Amy rose soon afterward, though much more rigidly and less externally enthused, motivated more to fit in than to genuinely show happiness. Dylan remained seated there, his hands in his pockets, staring at the bench in front of him with a grin.

Leo had devolved into celebration the second the buzzer had sounded, his voice exploding into sound with it. He banged his chest as he hopped around the court. “Who’s the man!?” he yelled, barely audible over his cheering classmates and parents. “Who’s the man!?”

Amy watched as her dancing friend Sofia ran to her son. She embraced him in her arms and began to kiss him all over his face. Amy was shocked by the open nature of her affection.

John looked over at his mother with his side-eye, trying to imagine her attacking him with such furious love. It was almost inconceivable to him, but as he saw Leo in his other eye separate from his mother, now being attacked by the remaining members of the team, all except for Tom who stood aside with his hands on his hips, John noticed his mother’s gaze following Leo, not Sofia, who was now standing off to the side, hugging her husband Andre in a joyful scream. John looked over at his friend, seeing his height and his caramel-toned muscles, and he looked back into his mother’s face, catching her looking directly at him, her face neutral with quiet admiration. John looked down at his hands. Then he looked back up behind his mother. Dylan sat at the top of the bleachers, appearing and disappearing between obstructing, cheering bodies. But every time a clear line of sight was cleared between Dylan and John, John could see him there, hands perpetually in his pockets, looking back down at him with a grin.


John stood outside the dance studio, looking in, trying with real force to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

Sofia was the first to see him standing out there, and without missing a step in her dance, she waved the young man inside.

Amy saw the gesture, and she turned to look to see her son coming in beneath the bell of the door. He stood there, seeing the room full of women, most of them middle-aged, and some of them were attractive. He stood behind the class, seeing their various butts in yoga pants and gym shorts, looking gorgeous in various states of motion, and while he wanted so bad to admire what he saw, the few eyes which turned back to look in his direction made him sheepish, causing him to look down at the floor.

Evelyn’s tits swung widely within her one-piece aerobics outfit, and as she turned with the class, she spotted John standing there awkwardly. When she made the full 360 degrees, she tapped Amy, who herself was in motion, on the elbow and then motioned back toward the hind of the room. “Your son is just standing there,” she said, leaning in to be heard over the salsa music. “Maybe we should invite him in to dance.”

Amy didn’t know what to say, she only looked into Evelyn’s eyes, her body unmoving.

“It’s not gay for boys to dance anymore,” Evelyn said. Then she shook her head, realizing she caught herself in a faux pas. “Not that it would be wrong if he was gay anyways, I just mean…”

Amy didn’t say anything, she only looked back ahead at Sofia. Sofia’s body looked amazing. She wore a yellow shirt, which was tucked into her black yoga pants, giving the world a great view of her perfect Hispanic ass cheeks, the true nature of which could only be imagined. Though its shape and jiggly motion while clothed painted somewhat of a picture of it, at least enough to feed into the imagination. Sofia was every boy’s first crush in town. She had the approachability that Evelyn wished she had and which Liam’s mom Autumn couldn’t have because of her life in Los Angeles. She didn’t have the soiled reputation that Gianna had saddled herself with. And though she was exotic due to her ethnicity, she had a general aura which always made people feel at ease with her. If anything, she was too warm. She often made young people who didn’t know any better feel as if they had a shot with her. This was purely delusion. Sofia was happily married to Leo’s dad Andre, and she didn’t even think about straying from that sacred and holy contract.

The only negativity anybody ever saw from the bright Hispanic woman came when she was putting pressure on her son over his basketball performance. Her and her former NCAA player husband Andre never let up on him for even a moment. It was a ruthless strategy for success, but it was apparently working. The results were self-evident.

The man who was waiting for his wife stood outside. He did that a lot since the first time he witnessed what was happening in the salsa classes his wife always talked about. The gorgeous female bodies swayed about, giving him a lot to look at. But his three favorites, Sofia, Amy, and Evelyn were at the very front of the class, with Sofia leading it with a big, white-toothed smile.

Evelyn and Amy were awful in comparison, being more rigid than most of the women in the class, but the man couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. Especially Amy. He liked everything about her. From her pale skin, to her dark eyes, to the strange shape in her voluptuous body, which was unlike the roundedness he was used to seeing in women like Sofia, or the power he had admired in the bodies of women like Evelyn and Gianna.

He especially loved Amy’s ass, which he was sure was getting bigger. He stared directly into it as it moved, its cheeks taking on a life of their own, as if separate from Amy’s body. And as he glared, he had no way of knowing what was happening to the seat of her yoga pants on the microscopic level, its threading being unravelled in all the right places, the strain on it only growing exponentially with every new meal and every new gyration, pressing the fat of her ever-gaining ass cheeks into the cradle of the pants.

Amy danced there, content with herself. It hadn’t always been that way. She had stood with worry in her bra and panties, looking at her thickening body in the mirror a while back. She couldn’t understand why it was happening. She knew it had something to do with American cuisine, and maybe with a change in lifestyle, but she would stand there despondent in front of the mirror, feeling no more attractive than a whale. She had already started off thicker than almost all the other girls in her high school, and she’d move through its halls with her gaze aimed at the floor because of it. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t believe that she was taken on the most unforgivable sin of the American. She was becoming fat.

Amy didn’t have anybody to ask about her sudden gain in weight, what it meant, how bad it truly was from an objective observer, or what to do about it. Back home, she had her mahjong buddies to compare feminine notes with. Here, at this time, she had nobody. Tony had noticed. She seemed to be moping around the restaurant, “depressing the customers” as he had put it to his wife. His wife suggested to him that Amy go join a class or a club to occupy herself and to find friends, and Tony, always eager to rip off a good idea, went to Amy with that advice as if it were his own.

She didn’t think much of it, but as she went out back to smoke, ignoring Frank laying there next to the dumpster as usual, she saw a discarded paper ad, sitting serendipitously at the top of the heap without even a ruffled edge.

Sofia sat on the face of the ad, her body in motion, even though the picture was still. Amy told herself that the reason why she felt suddenly inspired by the image was because of the big smile she saw on the “brown” woman’s face. She looked like she was having so much fun. But deep down, whether Amy realized it or not, it wasn’t Sofia’s face that first drew her attention. It was the larger than life curves of the woman which drew Amy in. Without realizing it, Amy’s hands ran down her own curves. And Frank, laying there in his private paradise, was salivating, the plate full of Chinese food only getting bigger in his mind.

The class ended, and everybody began to scatter from where they danced with smiles on their faces, all except for the one woman who caught her husband staring at the ass of the Chinese woman again. John took this opportunity of chaos to get a few good looks at the departing asses, when he suddenly felt a hand on his elbow, startling him.

“Woah,” said Evelyn, looking into his soul with her beautiful blue gaze. Her face wore an exaggerated smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you there, Zen Chung. I just wanted to let you know that if….” She stopped for a second, as if catching herself. She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “Are you gay?” she asked.

John was taken aback visibly.

“Oh, oh,” Evelyn said, pressing her fingers to his forearm. “Not that there’s… it’s alright if you are. I was just asking.”

“No,” John said, shaking his head.

“Okay, okay, good. I mean…” she shook her head, knowing that she didn’t mean to say it like that. “I’m just saying that if you want to join in on the class, it’s no longer considered gay to dance salsa. Just so you know. And even if it was, it’s not anyone’s right here to judge you for it.” She looked into John’s eyes with a smile. “Okay?” she asked in a sing-song.

John nodded his head.

“Awesome!” she said, and she walked off with a bizarre confidence which was at odds with the complete lack of accomplishment or sense which came with the moment.

The interaction was so awkward and aggressive that John didn’t even have time to admire her tits, only catching their gigantic weight by the side as she walked off, her body hugged by her aerobics attire.

John looked across the emptying room and he saw Sofia talking to his mom. His mom’s head was nodding in her usual accommodating way, her shoulders occasionally hunching with each nod, though it was a subtle occurrence.

When the two split up, Sofia waving to John with a big smile as she disappeared into the back room, her ass disappearing with her, Amy came up to John with a smile of her own. “We’re going to a barbeque,” she said in Mandarin.

“A barbeque?” John repeated. He looked out the window. “Where is this barbeque?” he asked, assuming that she meant they were going to a barbeque for dinner together.

“No,” she said. “On Saturday.”

“Where is the barbeque?”

Her expression remained mostly neutral, but John could see the fringes of her face betraying her genuine and poorly-concealed emotion. “It’s at Sofia’s house.” It was joy.


The nervousness which vocalized itself in John’s stomach rivalled that he felt when first going to Tom’s house. It was the large number of people which did it to him the most.

Amy didn’t feel much better. They stood on the stoup, having just rung the doorbell, waiting for some response. Salsa music played within. Amy wore a form-fitting red dress, and she stood there, looking at the ground with both hand holding the strap of her purse.

“Should I ring again?” John asked.

Before Amy could answer, the door opened.

A black man stood there. His head tilted backward. He was clearly in shock at the new class of guest.

He adjusted. “Come in, come in,” he said. “Welcome to the party.”

Amy and John walked in, and they were greeted to a house alive with people. All of them either that strange and darker form of white, the kind which Amy had learned to identify as South American, or black American. There were a few people there who seemed to white to be part of the family, though John knew some of them as in-laws. Also, some of the women there were mothers from Sofia’s dance class.

Amy looked around, feeling lost in the sea of various faces and hues, all of it underscored by yellow furniture and decorations, which made the house feel as if it were from another world. A hand fell onto Amy’s shoulder. She looked down to see a black hand resting there. The man looked into her eyes and said “if you’re looking for Sofia, she’s in the back with Andre. This is just for people who wanted to get out of the sun.” He winked at Amy with good nature.

Amy didn’t say anything. Neither did John, who looked at the tall black man touching his mother skeptically.

As the two Asians moved toward the door to the back, the black man watched as Amy’s hips swayed, her gigantic ass accentuated perfectly by her dress. “They’re just building them differently over there, aren’t they?”

John turned around to catch the stare of the black man, and then he looked down at his own mom’s ass, it animated by motion. Lines of worry began to form themselves in his forehead.

Sofia stood at the end of the patio, facing the grill. It was a testament to her body that John could recognize her from behind. Her perfect butt-cheeks were cupped by her yellow shorts. The backyard was more alive, and its aura was as well-decorated as that of a themed restaurant, it all having the same but different vibe as Tony’s. The voices were loud and their movements large and chaotic.

Andre stood next to Sofia as she grilled. And she turned, looking up at him with her bright eyes, and she kissed him on his cheek.

It was only when Amy and John got close that they had realized that wasn’t Andre at all.

Leo turned, his arm wrapped around his mom. When he saw John, his eyes lit up. John was self-aware to know that as much as he and Leo were friends, it wasn’t John himself that the handsome Afro-Latino’s eyes lit up for.

Amy seemed to shoot forward from John’s side. She went to go bow to Leo and his mother, but before she could, she felt strong arms wrapped themselves around her ribcage, meeting each other at her back. She stood there, awkwardly, her purse hanging at her side.

John was shocked that Leo had the self-control to keep his hips back and away from contact with Amy. He pulled his face back, looking her in the eyes, and said “thanks for coming Mrs. Li.” Before she could even respond, his big brown lips came, making contact with her pale, white cheek.

Just as aggressively as that episode started, Leo let go of the woman as if he had never seen her before, and quickly turned his attention to John. “Hey man,” he said, and leaned in for one of his half-handshakes, half-hugs (John had almost gotten the hang of it).

John looked over Leo’s shoulder as Amy, still seemingly in a state of surprise, was then hugged by Sofia, an occurrence she was much more used to since the two of them had become friendlier. Sofia’s hand came down behind Amy’s body, and then John was shocked to see her squeeze Amy’s butt. “My sister from another land,” she said.

John realized that his mom had apparently become use to this kind of thing, because this act seemed to pull her from her recent state of shock.

“Hi Sopia,” she said. “Thank you for letting me come.” She bowed slightly while Sofia still held her in her arms.

John thought he was in heaven. Leo’s family moved about, with women of various ages, either black or Mexican, all their bodies as exaggerated as Amy’s, some even more so. And they moved through the crowd, somehow maneuvering all that extra phat through with perfect dexterity, leaving their butts and breasts untouched despite their size.

Three young black women, ones John recognized from school, stood at the very back of the house, playing jump rope. One of them had an ass that reminded John of Danielle, and he looked over at them subtly every moment he could.

At a distance, it seemed as if every woman there, especially those from the Hispanic side of the family, were dating or were married to multiple men, as they moved through a sea of groping hands and arms and kisses and looks, only for it to be revealed that this near erotic warmth was the warmth between family.

A man rested his hand on the lower back of Sofia, his other hand holding a beer by its neck, while she stood off to the side, watching Andre grill. When the man turned his head, Amy, who had been watching fascinated, noted how similar he looked to Sofia. As they talked more, discussing how “mother” would have been happy to see everyone here celebrating, she had realized, it was Sofia’s brother who clung so close to her.

Amy suddenly felt a hand, a large one, against her lower back. She dropped her purse.

A black hand grabbed its strap and lifted it to her dainty white hands. She looked up. Leo stood there. “Care to dance, Mrs. Li?”

John heard hooting and hollering. It was the only thing which could drag his attention away from his well-endowed black peers. He looked over, and was horrified, to see his mom opposite his friend Leo, the two of them dancing, as a crowd watched. His mom’s moves were awkward in comparison to Leo, but surprising to everyone except for Sofia, who had seen her skill developing class by class, and everyone cheered her on because of it.

Occasionally, Leo and Amy’s bodies would meet, either by the hands or, to John’s wide-eyed horror, by the hips. What worried John most wasn’t the contact of their bodies. Nor was it the look in Leo’s eyes, which was perceptible, despite being subtle. It was the look in his own mother’s face every time she looked up at the young man.

Little did she know that that young man knew her better than she had realized, having seen the bare shape of her own body many times. He know hugged against that bare body, clothed. And she, not realizing it, didn’t realize the strength of this dynamic, or how it turned John’s stomach upside down with regret, cursing the moment he decided to give into Dylan’s horrible requests.

Leo’s relatives wanted their cut with the pretty lady from the east, and Leo, being skilled enough with women to know not to ever give them too much attention all at once, passed her off gladly. John watched, even as the three black girls ran passed him toward the sight. Their ass cheeks were invisible to him now. Amy was held in the hands of another suave Hispanic man, and she moved, guided by his perfect syncopation to the beat of the song. She then was put into the hands of another, one of Sofia’s brothers, as the crowd around cheered, women making what sounded to John like bird calls. Leo looked over at Amy with a smile, and his mom, who held him in her hands, dancing with him, looking up into his strong facial features with pride.

Amy’s butt pushed in and against the butt of another female dancer, and while she turned reflexively, eager to apologize, the dancer was already gone.

As John stood there watching, now the only one not moving to the beat, not knowing how. Not wanting to expose himself as the only person there without rhythm, he only stood on the grass of the backyard watching as Hispanic lips after Hispanic lips came to meet her pale cheek, as black lip after black lip came in lower volume to kiss the other.

All the while, Leo stood or danced aside, keeping her in his eyesight.

John tried to look composed. And apparently it was working. Because at some point Leo turned to look at him, and, having caught his gaze, he tilted his head in John’s direction and shot him a confident wink.


Part 2

A curvy body, one larger than life, exited the cab. She said something in Spanish, then the same thing again in English, and handed the cabby his money. The cabby took it, struggling to make change. It had been a while since anyone paid in cash.

“Keep the change,” the woman said in Spanish, then again in English.

The cabby nodded his head. He sat there in his car and watched as the curvy lady, her hair black and silver, her face ripe with laugh lines, moved up the driveways and stoup of the house, her ass moving like the hindlegs of leopard, each muscle tensing and releasing, as she climbed each step.

He waited there until the door opened, admiring her curvy body. When a Hispanic man stood at the door, looking out at the woman, his eyes going wide with a very primal happiness, the cabbie put his car into drive.

“Mama!” said the man at the door, and grabbed her in a strong hug, kissing her on her cheek.

The cabbie stepped on the gas and continued down the street.

The mother and son went back into the house.

When Maria emerged from out the back door of the house, the party almost stopped. Everybody looked over at her, whether related by blood or by marriage, and greeted the silently agreed-upon matriarch of them all with welcoming cheer.

Amy and John only looked at the still-beautiful older woman. John’s eyes scanned her body in her black dress. The vague shape of what it used to be once-upon-a-time could vaguely be deduced by what it was now, its phat growing in a way which retained its youthful and fiery femininity even in its voluminous gains.

Sofia’s brothers all moved toward the vision of a woman with their arms wide. Each one grabbed her, squeezed her tight, and kissed her on her cheek, with a passion as if she were both mother and benefactor. Their arms seemed to trail off her body as they leaned against her or backed away from her. John imagined touching his own mother in that way (not counting that one holy night). He imagined being able to feel her like that anytime he liked.

He looked over at Amy, and he felt a pinch in his chest at seeing Leo standing next to her, his arm resting around her waist. Amy only looked ahead, fascinated by the old Mexican lady.

John looked away from his mother, almost shaking his head out of discomfort. And then he noticed something. Sofia, this strange, beautiful lady’s daughter, stood off to the side, next to the grill with her husband, looking at her new guest. Her eyes were filled with a clear and visible love, but it seemed to be tempered with something else, something heavy and strange and unspeakable.

Andre was quicker to approach the lady than Sofia was.

He hugged her, and then kissed her on her cheek. “Hi mom,” he said. “Welcome.”

Sofia moved slowly toward her mother, as if she were a straggler, a friend of a friend. And when Maria saw her there, her eyes became alive with deep and private emotion. They looked at each other, each matching the other’s sentiment.

“Hi beautiful,” Maria said.

Sofia smiled. “Hi mama.”

After a few awkward seconds, almost as if spurred on by the fact that they were both being watched, the two women leaned in for a hug.

As they did, John noticed Sofia pull her face back, almost as if afraid to touch it against Maria’s. The memory of Sofia’s lips meeting the cheeks of so many others there flashed in his mind. Instead, Sofia and Maria let go of one another, kisslessly, and they looked at each other with smiles which otherwise displayed genuine love.

Sofia’s brothers, as if they knew something that everybody else didn’t, only seemed to want to segue away from this hidden awkwardness, back into something which fit the previously festive mood. One of the brother’s stepped forward with his arm pointed upward and a beer in his hand. “Okay!” he said. “Let’s get my mother something to eat.”

John moved through the labyrinth of trophies and exotic cultural artifacts and nick-nacks, following Leo toward his bedroom. They went down the hallway, and John couldn’t help but look into the bathroom as they passed it. Dylan had him thinking about bathrooms, and he saw the shower within and knew that Sofia’s brown and shapely body got naked and bathed inside there. He turned and looked up at the back of Leo’s head. He wished he could say he felt guilty for entertaining that thought, but he didn’t. The payment for shamelessness was just too rewarding. America had taught him another lesson: sometimes being good doesn’t pay.

It wasn’t until they got to Leo’s room, and Leo shut the door as if he were hiding a puppy from his family, that John began to get nervous.

As Leo tested the door, John looked around, noting the trophies, jerseys, and posters of basketball players and anime characters on the walls. As his gaze scanned over all these trinkets of Leo’s internal world, one image caught his gaze and held it in place.

It was a pin-up of a half-naked Asian girl, her bathing suit red, hugging her pale flesh tightly, as the cool, clear water of a waterfall fell over her black strands of hair. Her eyes were shut as if filled with inner-peace. John felt an unease rise in him.

Leo turned around.

As he looked over John’s shoulder, seeing what his friend was staring at, he smiled. “Looks like somebody we know, doesn’t it?”

John turned around, the shock of the poster giving way to the shock of hearing the poster, and its implications, addressed so quickly, too quickly for him to process it all.

“Sit down, John,” Leo said ironically. “We’re going to have a little conversation, just me and you, about the subject of your mom’s big Chinese ass.”

John’s brows furrowed.

“Here,” Leo said. “I want to show you something.” He went over to his desk, toward his gaming laptop, and he threw its lid open.

The image of Amy’s naked body, her giant pale ass as she stepped into the bathtub being the image’s draw, came onto the screen.

Leo chuckled to himself when he looked at the screen. He then rotated in his chair, looked at John, and motioned toward his lap. “Look at me. I only looked at her for a second, and I’m already completely hard.”

Leo’s gargantuan cock pushed up against his shorts.

John stared down at it. It throbbed once.

“I still can’t believe Dylan caught that sweet and sour ass. I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet.”

John didn’t say anything.

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you? You and John are the same in that way. You like sharing. It’s called being a cuck. I’ve heard of it. Couldn’t be me though.”

John’s face went red. He knew there would be consequences to giving Dylan that camera, but he for some reason never prepared himself for facing them.

Leo hit play on the video. “She’s out there right now and she has no idea we’re inside, looking at her naked body. Look at those tits. Could you imagine sucking those?”

John didn’t have to imagine.

“Oh, I guess you don’t have to.”

John’s gaze shot down to his friend’s smile. How did he know about that night?

Leo looked up at him with a grin. “You probably sucked on those bad boys as a baby.”

John felt a weight fall from his shoulders like he had removed a weighted cape. He inhaled, relieved he hadn’t been discovered.

Amy spun around in the shower, her motions gorgeous, her curvy weight of her body moving majestically, masking the rigidity in her steps.

Leo pointed beneath her black bush, at the lips of her pussy. “That’s the first time I’ve seen an uncensored Asian pussy.” He laughed. “If the rumors are true, it’s as tight as tight gets. But I guess you would know that already.” John almost felt an impulse to say that he didn’t fuck her, but Leo continued. “Because that’s the hole you came out of.”

John thought it was strange how brazen Leo was being, especially since he had a mom himself. He didn’t seem to realize that talking about John’s mom left his own mom’s sultry and thick body open for verbal attack. Either that or he never had to worry about that because his size and popularity shielded him from open criticism and mockery. Leo wasn’t the type of guy to be okay with his mom being openly sexualized.

“You know,” Leo said. “The four of us have a little betting pool going. Sorry you’re not invited. I know how Asians are big into gambling. But it wouldn’t make sense for you to participate.” He looked into John’s eyes with a wicked grin. “We’re betting on who’s going to take your mom’s ass to bed first.”

“But…” John said, impulsively, having nothing to follow up with. His mom’s voice could be heard from the computer, singing a Chinese folk song, its melody ancient and sweet, as her notes echoed off the walls of her own private American bathroom.

“It’s going to be the easiest three hundred bucks I’ve ever made,” said Leo.

John clenched his teeth, unsure of what to say.

“I’ve got a plan.” He looked up at John smugly. “Are you ready for this?”

John wasn’t, and his face showed as much, but his throat wouldn’t allow a single word to jostle loose and obstruct the trajectory of the moment.

“Okay, catch this.” He put his hand down and grabbed at the giant dick which throbbed in his shorts. It became defined as the fabric of his shorts wrapped around it. As he began to speak, he jostled his cock with each syllable or two. “With this thing here, this gift from God, I can have any bitch I want. Dylan’s mom is easy, so I’m not even interested. Tom’s mom is married. Plus, between you and me, I think she’s afraid of black people. Liam’s mom doesn’t need me if she wants dark meat. She can fuck Denzel Washington if she wants. But your mom, John… your mom is single, your mom is friendly to me, your mom isn’t famous, and your mom hasn’t been touched by anyone in town, and that makes for an exciting conquest. At least I think so. In other words, I think it’s in the bag.”

John felt a tightening knot form behind the brow of his head. His throat becoming anguished.

“Now let’s look out our little crew of misfits. There’s Dylan. If your mom doesn’t hate him already, she will soon. Next up is Tom. Not a bad looking dude, not gonna lie. But he has no game. I have looks and game. Enough said. Then there’s Liam. Yeah, he’s cute and all, but the guy has no confidence.” Leo fidgeted back and forth in his chair. “And that leaves me. Handsome, tall, in shape, popular, captain of the basketball team.” A smile began to form on his face menacingly. “Big dick,” he said. He said it in a way that made it seem he was trying to be hurtful. At the same time, John somehow knew that the comment wasn’t aimed at him, his Asian heritage or his own personal dick size. It was only Leo’s way of saying “it’s going to happen bro, sorry.”

Leo then began to spill the beans regard his own plan for success. John stood there, listening to his friend and his insane plot, and though he felt uneasy to start, the more he listened to his friend’s words, the more his anxiety began to fade. Leo looked up at him with his eyes wide, serious and grave. “And that’s all there is to it. As long as I can have an excuse – it doesn’t even have to be a good one – to flash her this big piece of flesh, it’s done for.” He pointed at the screen. “That ass is as good as clapped.”

John looked at the screen. Leo’s cocoa-butter finger pointing at the crack of his mom’s ass, its length from top to bottom long due to the heavy size of her butt-cheeks.

John looked back at his friend.

It took a bit, but Leo eventually realized it was skepticism that was being projected from those hard-to-read Chinese features.

“Okay, listen,” Leo said, patient enough to help John along in what Leo himself seemed to already know. “I said that Tom’s mom is probably afraid of blacks, right? Well, you know Tom’s sister. Mia, the head of the cheerleading squad? I… here, let me show you.”

He minimized the video of John’s mom as she was soaping her big tits. He rummaged through some files and then opened one of them.

Leo’s cock, as John had seen it before, came into view.

But on the other side of that cock, looking up into the camera, her big white face smiling with lust and humor, Tom’s sister Mia, her face half-obscured by giant black cock, looked up.

John’s mouth fell open.

“Don’t film this,” she said, and she gave Leo’s cock a few pecks.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice sultry and low.

“Because I can’t perform well if I know I’m being watched.” She began licking the giant black cockhead.

“I’ve been watching you,” Leo said.

“And you’re welcome to.”

John stared on enthralled. Mia adjusted her knees on the ground to get a better footing, and her giant tits lifted from Leo’s thighs. Her big blue eyes electric as she looked down at Leo’s cock with an appetized tilt her in mouth. John couldn’t believe that Mia, the perennial good girl – perfect grades, perfect friend group, perfect future, perfect tits – could be naked, her voluptuous body nude and available, sucking on black cock as her blonde hair spilled over her ears and cheeks. He didn’t even know such a thing was possible. He wanted to drop his pants and begin jerking off right there.

Leo looked over at the small tent in John’s pants.

“She’s as good as you think she is, John,” Leo said. “A little less good than she thinks she is, of course. It runs in the family. I guess she has to suck off us mixed-race types to make up for how much her mom sucks us off figuratively.”

John watched as the white girl’s two giant breasts wrapped around Leo’s cock and began to jerk it off. The caramel brown shade of his dick looked amazing against the milky expanse of those breasts. America, John thought, impulsively. He didn’t know why that word came to him then. It just fit.

“The difference between you and Tom, John, is that you at least wanted to get cucked. You offered your mom’s naked ass up to Dylan’s camera willingly. Tom’s mom and sister have both been taken care of the same way, and the poor guy doesn’t even know it. Dylan even smiles extra wide when he looks at him. There’s a lot more dignity in your situation then there is in that poor bastard’s.”

For the next few minutes, Leo and John watched more videos of Leo’s absolute control over the pretty blonde. She crawled on the floor for his cock. She begged for it. He fucked her, slapped her tits, spread her holes, all for the camera, all for Leo’s future enjoyment, and only that. She had no idea that the weird Asian kid would eventually see it. If she did, she likely never would have even done it, never mind done it with such perfect commitment.

John watched the whole time, enthralled by his friend’s cock being worked, sucked, fucked, kissed, and jerked by the most lusted after girl in school. Her perfect blonde being as if it were plucked from a racist’s wet dream, the scene itself as if it were plucked, sight, sound and all, from his nightmare.

The amount of footage seemed to stretch on endlessly, but Leo cut it short. “You know Madison?”

John looked over. He had no conception regarding how stunned his own face looked. He slowly nodded.

“Here, watch this.”

Leo clicked on another video, and again, his cock came into view, this time half-eclipsing the face of Madison. She looked up at the filming afro-hispanic, and though she smiled, it was with a subtle ambivalence. Even when in the throws of ecstasy, her racism couldn’t contain itself from leaking through the lines in her face.

“I know she doesn’t like you. The whole Asian thing. Don’t worry,” Leo said. “I punished her for it.”

Leo slapped her face with his cock.

“Ow,” she said.

“I’m sorry.”

Leo looked over at John. “I wasn’t sorry.”

“Do you like black cock?” Leo asked her.

She seemed to be pretending not to hear him, even as she took his cock in her lips.

“Huh?” he slapped her on his forehead with it.

“No,” she said. “It’s like sucking off a baboon.”

“Okay then,” he said, pulling his dick back until it was flush against his pubic region, its head at his belly button.

John was amazed at such power, seeing a man withhold his own blowjob, just for the sake of a rhetorical victory.

“Give it back,” she said, crawling up the bed.

“Why? It’s a baboon dick. It belongs in the jungle.”

“Give it back.”

“You know what to say.”

She smiled and looked straight into the camera.

“I’m going to burn in hell for this.”

“Say it.”

“I love black cock.”

“How much?” Leo asked, like a mother chastising her son.

Madison grabbed Leo’s cock, putting one hand flat at its base, and the other at its very tip, as if measuring it. “This much,” she said.

“Oh,” Leo said, with mock amazement. “You must love it a lot then.”

“Shoot me,” she said.

“Okay, You have permission to keep sucking.”

She didn’t even let him finish the sentence before devouring it.

John watched, in amazement, as the racist girl was ravaged by his black friend, enjoying every second of it.

Leo looked up at his friend’s astonished face, his own cock, and Madison’s white face, reflected in his big black pupils. “So,” he started. “You interested?”

It took John a second to register what his friend just asked. As the realization formed in his head, he drew his attention away from the screen. Then he looked down at Leo. He looked more confused than he did usually.

“Are you listening? You interested?”

“In what?” John asked.

“In helping me.”

John looked back at the screen, his lower lip still open. Then back at Leo. “Helping with what?”

“Helping me flash my dick. What have we been talking about for the past ten minutes?”

“Helping you…” Jonathan looked out the window at the blue sky. “I don’t understand.”

Leo rolled his eyes and exhaled dismissively. “Look, if you do this for me, just give me the opportunity I mean, I’ll send you all the videos I have here.” Leo put his hand on the mouse and moved it, moving the cursor diagonally across the screen over a matrix of illicitly titled video files. “All of it, all the… I lost count… but all the girls I’ve fucked. I’ll send you all that. Not in exchange for fucking your mom. In exchange for the opportunity to flash this at her.” He throttled his cock in his hand. “Which is as good as fucking her, ‘cuz that’s what will come as a result.”

John felt a bizarre sensation, one of many forms. He sometimes wondered if it was the soil of the country, or maybe its air, which made him feel like this so often. That strange mix of terror, negativity, thrill, and excitement. He looked at the screen, scanned the files sitting there with his eyes, knowing that they contained videos of some of the best-looking girls at his school doing some of the worst things.

He wondered, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask, if a certain someone was among them. He dreaded it, but dreading it didn’t stop him from wanting it either. He looked down at his friend.

“What do you say?”

Something occurred to John then. It may have had something to do with Leo’s comment about Asians liking to gamble. If so, Leo had made a mistake, because the first thing that came to John’s mind was a proposition. He almost heard himself say it rather than feel like he produced the sound after deciding to. “Can we make a bet. Us two?” he said.

“Oh,” Leo said, his hands coming together. “I could stand to make more than three hundred. Sure.”

“It’s not a money bet,” John said. “You know Dylan’s camera?”

The slight cockiness in Leo’s motion stopped dead. The smile on his face grew rapidly stagnant, and began to be replaced by a dry humorlessness.

“If my mom doesn’t…. if you don’t…. then you have to put the camera in your bathroom.”

Leo’s face was still.

“For your mom…” John continued sheepishly. He realized then that he had just exposed a card he was previously holding to his chest. His interest in Sofia. He wondered if he had made a mistake by even suggesting it. If it would only bring the spicy woman, and her thick and soft body, further from any interesting possibilities than would have been the case otherwise.

Leo looked up at John. First with real anger in his face, but John’s harmless aura, his unconfident stance, seemed to be wearing away at Leo’s sense of a threat. “For my mom?”

“Yeah,” John said, gaining in confidence. “So we can all see her.” In John’s mind, saying this took bite away from the request. It made it seem less like a personal lust and more like a way to raise the stakes to scare Leo out of his plain. Maybe in some sense, John thought this request would work to do exactly that. He was truly terrified by the idea of making his mom available to his friend in such a way. He didn’t want to look down at it again, but he imagined Leo’s big black dick as it tore through his mom’s ass, their contrasting flesh smacking against one another, his mom’s pretty mouth sucking Leo’s testicles, and the length and girth of that cock pressed against his mom’s pretty face. Even with all that though, Sofia’s gorgeous body, however it appeared without clothing on to hide it, flashed through John’s mind vaguely, and he stood there, not knowing how much of this was all just a game of chicken, and how much of it was an attempt by John to come away with more. He didn’t know, but he stood there, unable now to detach himself from this rollercoaster ride now that the cars had started crawling upward.

Leo looked nervous for a second. More nervous than John had ever seen him. And then it all seemed to just evaporate, overtaken by his usual confidence. “Seems like a fair wager to me.” The smile on his face grew wider. “Besides, what do I have to worry about. Like I said. It’s in the bag.”


John sat at his computer desk, his body trembling all over as he tugged himself to pretty face and body, after pretty face and body, many of whom he recognized (including one of the black girls jumping rope from the party), being ravaged on screen by his tall, confident friend. A compendium of asses and tits became available to him. Different girls, some of whom seemed so innocent, in their various states of pleasure, pain, orgasm, and exasperation with Leo’s humor. All the while, going from one video to the next, John harbored a strange and painful desire to see Danielle among them. Anxiety ate away at him at the prospect of seeing her there, her big, perfect ass being “clapped” from behind. And then more anxiety ate away at him at the prospect of it not being there. After going through all the footage compulsively, it was the second worry wort which won out. Danielle wasn’t among the surplus of footage. The only video of her that existed on John’s computer was the one Dylan had took of her. John opened that video in one video player, and another of Leo fucking a pretty brunette. And though he felt strange doing it, he thought it was alright to simply fantasize. All the girls, especially cultured and pristine Mia, seemed to be so much more beautiful to him when absolutely ravaged by Leo’s big cock, muscular body, and aggressive personality. Besides, John didn’t care who fucked Danielle. She was the most perfect woman he had ever seen. He even half-considered the possibility that Dylan had given her the ole’ Gianna-treatment at some point. It wouldn’t be surprising, knowing Dylan. Regardless, John imagined his pale fingers running through the tan fingers of her delicate hand, even as he imagined Leo fucking her.

Eventually, as his jerking off become more intense, Danielle’s hand began to change shape and texture within his own. He looked down at it. It was pale. He followed her pale delicate arm up to its source. Amy looked back at John, her face contorted in extreme pleasure, as Leo thrust on top of her. His big black lips came down to meet her tiny mouth.

John let go of his cock. It fell unceremoniously against his thigh.

He shut off his computer and went to bed, still hard. During the night, he dreamt of having to use the bathroom. As he moved through his house, rounding corner after endless corner, it slowly transformed, bit by bit, into his apartment back home, though he barely seemed to notice the change. He opened the door to the bathroom, and his mom stood there, naked under the showerhead, its water falling to the bathroom floor, circling the drain at her dainty feet.

“Yixin,” she said, and then continued speaking in Mandarin. “I never knew America could fill the hole in me that your father left.” Water spilled from the curves of her body the way it would over the rocky precipices which made waterfalls.

“It can’t,” John said. “America only brings emptiness.”

“No,” she said. “America has black cock.” She smiled at John. “Black cock fills all holes.”

One second Amy had been alone. The next second, Leo stood behind her, his penis inside of her pussy. His big caramel hands cupping her breasts. He kissed her ear from behind, and she giggled and looked up at him.

Behind the two of them, Danielle watched from the neighboring window.

“You can’t, mom,” John said.

Leo’s cock was free, water spilling from it in a concentrated line. Amy’s hand held it, tugging on it. Danielle bathed in John’s bathroom now, completely nude, behind the lovers. As Leo’s cock was tugged by Amy’s hand, John looked past them, past Danielle’s perfect ass, into the neighboring window. Sofia stood there, her hair wet, her eyes closed as water washed over her face. She was naked, as was apparent from her bare shoulders, but the rest of her body was obscured by the bricks of the neighboring building.

John wanted to be there. When he looked back, Amy’s tits bounced about as Leo fucked her from behind. She squealed in absolute pleasure. Danielle had transformed now into Gianna. “I told you a black stud would do it, sweetheart,” she said, looking past the two, up into Amy’s orgasmic face.

Leo’s cumming cock fell out of Amy’s pussy.

As more volley of cum squirted upward from its giant-brown tip, Leo stood nude, but for his team jersey on his chest, as a bleacher of John’s friend’s and classmates, including a naked Danielle, rose to their feet behind Leo, and cheered for his victory. Amy turned around, her body bare, with cheerleading pom-poms in her hands, and she raised one in the air, with the other pressed against her pale and wide hip, and she egged on the crowd.

John woke up to an overwhelming vibration.

His sheets at his waist were warm and wet. “It’s been a while,” he whispered to himself in the darkness in Mandarin.

He grabbed his cock and began to jerk it. He did so trying to conjure up as much of the dream that he could remember. He could only remember the sight of Leo’s giant dick in a bathroom, perhaps his own. And then he remembered something else.

His mom’s hand on it, as she looked down on it with irrepressible lust.

John came.


“So,” Leo said, standing there with his cock hanging, half-hard. “You gonna fluff me?”


“It’s a joke,” Leo said. “In porn, they have people who get the guys with the big dicks hard.” He smiled. “You know… for action.”

John didn’t say anything. His attention was entirely wrapped up and into the task at hand. It was so stereotypically Asian of him to be so focused on success, meticulously so, while ignoring its substance. If Tom was there, he would have noticed and made a comment about it.

“Are you going to call her in here?” Leo asked. He held on to his shorts and then held them out in front of him in mock activity. “I’ll try to make it look like I’m changing.”

“Call her?”

“Yeah, how else are we going to get her in here.”

“Why would I call her?”

“To get her in here. What are you-“

“Why would I call her, I mean, she’ll think it’s weird.”

“She won’t think anything, you idiot. She’ll be thinking of this when she sees it.” He shook his cock. “Just get her in here.”

John stood there nervously. He looked at his bedroom door. Before he could make a move, he heard his mom call “Yixin.”

Her footsteps, heavy with the weight of her thick body, came stepping down the hallways.

Impulsively, John ducked behind his dresser. Leo looked at him, then back at the door. He stood up, poking his crotch outward as he held his shorts.

“Yixin!” Amy called, one last time before the doorknob turned.

The door came open and Leo made one last thrust outward.

There was a tiny squeak from Amy’s throat. That was the only sound for the next few seconds. Amy looked at the naked body of the young man. His cock looked back at her with the same blankness of expression inherit in both their faces. Then his cock throbbed.

“Sorry,” Amy said, her R’s and L’s indistinguishable. “Didn’t know you’re there.” She shut the door. Then she went walking back down the hallway at the same pace she came at.

Leo stood there stunned.

John, standing within the shadow of his dresser, looked at his friend, seeing the disappointment in his face, and for a split second, felt sorry for him.

After a few seconds, Leo looked over at John, his face wracked with a humiliation, his confidence being popped by circumstance in a way that he had never experienced before, and his friend, perhaps his lowliest of friends, there to see it all happen in real time. And after so much promise.

As the two young men looked at each other, their faces remaining the same, it was as if the realization of what came next dawned on them at roughly the same time, and when it did, the pity in John’s expression began to be replaced by a hard-to-hide ecstatic joy. And in turn, Leo’s expression dropped.


The guys all sat or lay there in Tom’s basement, each of them, except for Leo, naked from the waist down.

“What’s the matter,” Dylan said, pointing at Leo’s waist. “Isn’t this your big day? Take it off.”

“Fuck off faggot,” Leo said.

“Homophobia,” Tom said, shaking his head. “As a visible minority yourself, shouldn’t you know better, Leo?”

“Suck it, bitch,” Leo responded.

Liam smiled at his friends.

Dylan stretched, his cock falling against his thigh. “Maybe we should do John’s mom first. I know we all seen it. But it could work as a sort of show before the show. Like an appetizer. Like…” he began to smile to himself. “Like rice balls before a rich taco dinner.”

“Fuck you,” said Leo in the darkness.

John lay there, seeing the video start. His cock was hard, and his eyes wide, realizing that this moment was his. He had been the one to bring it into existence. Not just for himself. But for everyone in that room.

There was a blackness. Then a burst of sudden light. A bathroom, similar but different from Tom’s, similar but different from his own, exploded into view. The camera adjusted to the change in light and temperature.

Sofia, her body soft and jiggly, walked into frame, her every step creating a new jiggle in her flesh. She was wearing yellow yoga pants, the brightness of which highlighting the appetizing curves to come.

“Oh,” Tom said. “I see she was back from her dance class.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Let’s see that sweaty ass.”

She removed her shirt first, and then the boys all watched, all of them holding on for dear life, even if for different reasons, as she came out of her yoga pants. She stood there in her underwear, her cheeks large and gorgeous.

“Oh god,” Liam said.

Both John and Leo sat silent in the darkness. John’s cock twitched.

She grabbed at the waist of her panties, and then in one swift tug, as each of the boys held their breath, she brought the panties down to her kneecaps.

Her unbroken butt-crack slid into the awareness and memories of the boys.

They watched her bare brown ass stretch into specific shape as she dropped the underwear down to her ankles and stepped out of it. Her cheeks separating as she bent down, and now coming together as one, reforming her black butt-crack, as she stood up.

“Oh yeah!” Dylan grunted. “Fuck yeah!” His jerking off sped up, not too differently from when he first saw Amy. “Fuck yeah! Look at that ass.”

“God damn, it’s delicious,” said Tom. “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Her naked brown ass sat illuminated deliciously by the light. The boys watched as she stepped into the shower, and they watched as her body ran with soapy white suds. “She gets cleaner,” Dylan said. “But she never gets any less brown.”

John looked over at Leo’s face, his eyes watery and reflective in the darkness, so much so that John could see Sofia’s naked ass reflected in the whites of her son’s eyes.

The video ended, and then Dylan admitted to the group that when he came to plant the camera, he had planted a second cam, one he had just got from Amazon (his mother had looked down at it in her hands and asked Dylan what it was and why he needed it before he snatched it away angrily) in Sofia’s bedroom.

Leo fidgeted awkwardly in the dark multiple times as Dylan set up the second camera into the television’s video input below.

The image of Sofia’s room empty, the same bed where her and Andre made love, sat inert as the boys looked at it, Dylan looking behind himself at the screen as he went back to his seat. Not long after, Sofia emerged in the room with a towel wrapped tightly around her body, it matching her hourglass figure with its yellow embrace.

Leo’s caramel hand came against his forehead, and then slid down the side of his face. John looked over at him, feeling his anxiety as if it were his own.

Sofia’s towel dropped. The other boys groaned. John looked back at the screen.

The boys assumed the video would be short. It didn’t take too long to change. But after a few seconds, they realized that Sofia wasn’t that eager to get back into her clothes. Instead she went to her dresser, leaned down to her bottom drawer, her giant brown ass bending beautiful for the boys, giving them a barest hint of her butthole, and she pulled out a giant black dildo.

Leo’s hand came up and met the entirety of his face.

“Jesus christ,” Tom said. “Jesus christ.”

“Oh god,” Liam said. “I can’t believe it.”

Leo was silent.

Sofia threw the floppy dildo onto the bed. She picked up her phone from her dresser and thumbed threw it. Then salsa music started playing. She placed the phone back down and then she stood in front of the mirror for a moment. She seemed to be examining herself. She tilted a bit, and then she turned her body around, looking down at her own ass. She then spanked it, letting it jiggle for the audience she never even knew she had, and she turned back around and began to dance in place, her body moving in exact synchronicity with every beat and note of the music, as if the two were meant for each other.

Leo sat there, voiceless and still.

Sofia then turned around, and as if living out one of Leo’s nightmares, she hopped up on the bed, her ass facing the mirror directly, and the hidden camera at an angle. She grabbed the dildo, and with her chest against her bedsheets, pressed it, entirely, balls deep into her open pussy. Her ass jiggled as the balls made contact with her body. “Ugh,” she moaned. And then within seconds, the dildo began to move. Her ass jiggled violently, but still gracefully, with the music.

The boys watched, either in shock or visible ecstasy, either way not believing that what they were looking at was real. After a while, Liam became almost too embarrassed for Leo to join in on Tom and Dylan’s jubilee. Even still, he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off. Nobody could have in that moment. He had loved Sofia for as long he had memories, just like every other boy in town. He couldn’t believe he finally got to see her like this.

Sofia’s ass cheeks bounced comically and delightfully both, not knowing that the world outside her private little bedroom was watching. Not knowing the lengths that Dylan’s horrid tentacles would go to find her there.

“Size queen, man,” Dylan said. “Fucking size queen.”

As John looked over periodically at Leo sitting there, silent, stewing in emotions he probably thought he’d never feel, John noted how his face remained unchanged, like an anger beyond anger, making it impossible to express. And indignation beyond indignation and a despondency beyond despondency. It seemed to be clear as day.

And then John saw it.

It was a slight movement, just at the corner of his sight. But it drew his gaze downward, and looking at it source directly, he saw it again.

It was Leo’s cock in his shorts. It not only twitched. It throbbed.

It throbbed hard.


Amy moved across her kitchen with perfect proficiency. She only had a short time yet before John would be home, and that was the time she set for dinner being ready today. Whenever she set a time for the completion of a task, that task was always completed as she planned.

The only reason why it had become a question now (though Amy was far from worried) was because she was cooking with a new recipe. One her friend Sofia had told her about. As she moved ingredients across her table like an artist with an easel, moving things in and out of the oven, and other things in and out of steaming frying pans or boiling water, she realized she could breathe again. She was ahead of schedule now, like usual. Mexican food was like Chinese food. Everything was. The more you dived into its differences, the more you realized it was all the same.

Amy took the pan from the oven and placed it on the counter. She discarded her oven mitt and she reached over to the vegetables.

She grabbed the eggplant.

As she went to place it on the cutting board, she stopped.

Her hair and the flesh around her waist still in movement even as the core of her body had stopped.

She held the eggplant between her two hands. Her left hand cupped it from beneath. Her right hand held it against her chest at its side.

She let her hand slide up. And as she did, the sight came back to her. Just like it had continually since she had first laid eyes on it.

That big black cock, large and unobstructed in her own house.

She imagined it again, the way she had since. Its throb.

It was for her. The throb. It had throbbed when Leo had seen her. She knew it was true.

She held the eggplant, feeling herself become heavy with a sudden lust.

Amy couldn’t stop herself. She moved the hem of her skirt aside, and positioning the eggplant below her, as if it were a stool, she slowly pressed it inside of herself, and as she did, she let out an ecstatic groan.

“Reo!” she whispered. “Reo!”

The eggplant when in and out of her voluptuous body. Amy stood there, thrusting it inside of herself with wild passion. Her brows began to furrow, her lower lip hung open. She screamed.

When John came into the house, his mom stood in the kitchen, mop in hand, sliding it across the kitchen floor.

“What’s that smell?” John asked in Mandarin.

His mom’s head shot up.

“It smells delicious.”

John came into the kitchen, shocked to see Mexican cuisine waiting for him. His eyes lit up.

“From Sofia,” Amy said, and she continued to push her mop. “I think it turned out well for my first time.”

As John sat down, he asked if his mom was going to eat with him.

“Soon,” she said. “I just have to clean.”

She wasn’t looking him in his eyes.

John didn’t think much of it, he knew how distracted his mom got when she was focused on a task.

When he bit into the first burrito, his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. He took a few more bites, before grabbing his fork, bringing it to the vegetables, and lifting a forkful to his mouth, the peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant all in one.

Amy looked over at her son through the corner of her eye.

John put the fork into his mouth. His lips closed.

Amy looked back down at the floor and continued mopping.

“Mmm,” John mumbled through a closed mouth.

He pulled the fork out of his mouth, and when he did, it shone metallically under the incoming sunlight, having been cleaned of all residue, pepper, tomato, and eggplant all.

“Kěkǒu de.”

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6 comentários

Sam die
Sam die
10 de jun. de 2023

Days ago you said you had a new story ready. Its een days so can y upload it now I can't wait another day

Sam die
Sam die
13 de jun. de 2023
Respondendo a

I don't like your coming to America series we miss when you used to use photos and

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