Sure, you were still in high-school, but you had just turned 18, about to finish your junior year, you’d be leaving for college in less then 2, and it had been 6 since your father passed away, it was time for her to move on and date.
So you watched, as a succession of middle aged white men came into her life, some were bankers, some were slackers, none of them lasted anymore than a week, none of them made her any happier.
That was until Shawn. You hadn’t met him yet, but his influence over her life was immediately noticeable, she was happier, motivated, bought new clothes, started wearing skirts and heels again, starting wearing makeup again for the first time since your father had died.
The collar was the first thing that really tipped you off though. After about two moths that they were dating she started wearing it. Said it was just fashionable, that she wanted to change up her style, but it was strange, the way she’d stroke it sometimes, how she’d never take it off, you could tell she had a special connection to it.
Then a month later she quit her job, Shawn encouraged her to work on her art, quit being taken for granted as a secretary.
She’d explained how hard it was for her to make the choice, but that it was better this way, that Shawn promised to help the two of you out while she transitioned into becoming an artist. The two of you would have to tighten up the belt a bit, things were going to get a bit tough before they got better, no new video-games, fashionable clothes, new phones, or anything near your old allowance.
It was hard adjusting, having the life you’d known deteriorate, seeing your friends rave about the newest fad or fashion, while you had nothing. Deteriorating while she flourished, flourished not working a dead end job, doing what she loved every day, being loved.
Then Shawn moved in. You didn’t even get to meet him in-person before hand, never even seen a picture of him. Now he was here, living in your own home, a minute ago you didn’t even know he was black and now he was sleeping a wall away from your bed. You spent the night listening to the sounds of them fucking, too embarrassed to do anything about it.
She needed a studio, he’d told her. Your room was the only one big enough that they weren’t fucking in. They didn’t tell you that last part, you guessed.
You were going to move to the guestroom. It was just a little bit smaller.
He paid to renovate everything, the paintings in your house became fancier, the color on the walls more lively, the furniture modern, your mother fashionable, domesticated, eager to please him.
Your stipend remained the same, you had the feeling he didn’t really care for you, he was just running out the clock until you left for college.
Soon her studio wasn’t enough, they broke the wall and added the guestroom space to it. You were moved to what used to be a walk-in closet full of your father’s stuff, things your mother sold when she quit her job.
Your grades suffered, and the college applications started coming back negative, every single one.
Mom caught you trying to kill yourself with a belt. You couldn’t even do that right. She dragged you to the living room for a talk with Shawn. You told him you wanted to talk to her, he told you you’d hurt her by doing what you did, she was distraught, she wouldn’t tell you what you needed to hear.
“I feel like a leech, I feel like I’m useless, like I don’t belong, like I’m unnecessary.”
“You are. Your mother’s pregnant now, she doesn’t really need a failure like you anymore.”
You started crying.
Your mother just sat in the corner, her head down, you couldn’t see her face.
“Just like I thought, you were never a man, just a sniveling little bitch, you know what I do with white bitches like you?”
You kept crying until he got up to slap you.
“Let me show you.” He took out his big black cock.
It was automatic, like zen, like a trance, you couldn’t tell what happened first, his hand on the back of your head, his cock in your mouth. You sucked like a white bitch, an eager white bitch.
Your mother’s eyes were transfixed on you now, she was smiling.
Shawn gave her life purpose, made her happy, put a child in her womb, and was now turning her useless white son, into the submissive daughter she’d always wanted him to be.
