Mike's POV.......
Instead of crashing into the White girl stretching in the park, my sight momentarily shifts. I had tried calling out to her to move, but she must not have heard me since her back was turned. Now I hear a fast-paced pop song pounding in my ears. I'm wearing sunglasses, and I can feel the warm sunlight against my skin.
My pale skin.
"Sheeeeiiitt, what the fuck happened?" I take off the headphones and hear a soft pitched, feminine voice grunt out. Weird, that's what I wanted to say. I clear my throat and hear a delicate cough tumble out of my mouth.
Then I look down. A pink sports bra containing two very large breasts. White skin with freckles and no chest hair. A slender, toned waist flaring out to a set of wide, childbearing hips. Black workout shorts that cling to my flat crotch and rounded ass. Hairless arms and legs. A small pair of red tennis shoes.
The necklace! It must be how I managed to possess this girl. With my manicured fingernails I feel it around my swan-like neck. Then I curve my lips into a wicked grin. Two police officers run by me, never suspecting that the Black criminal they're chasing has found a comfy new home for the time being.
"Ayo, dis jewelry be lit. Pigs ain't gonna suspect nothin' while I'm this whye bitch." I laugh aloud, making her delicate syrupy voice sounding crude and gruff. I run my hands roughly over my new body, cupping my breasts and slapping my butt playfully. "I finna see what I look like in a mirror. But first I gots to catch up with Carlos afore dat nigga gets bagged."
I walk into the forest, amazed at how fit, flexible, and youthful this woman is. I feel like I could run a marathon without getting tired. She has a six pack; the only six pack I have is the one I stole from the liquor store yesterday night. For a moment I consider abandoning my partner and letting him get arrested. But we've been on the inside before and we both got paroled around the same time too. We may not be brothers in blood, but we're brothers in spirit.
Or I guess I'm his sister now. His thick-assed, snow hoe sister.
I giggle to myself before my heart plummets. I'm too late. The cops got to Carlos before I could. A police cruiser is on a dirt road next to a forest clearing. There are three officers on the scene. Two officers have Carlos handcuffed and pressed face first against the hood of the car. The other officer is calling in from a walkie-talkie, his forest ranger's hat and sunglasses obscuring most of his face from view. The bag of stolen jewelry lays in the backseat of the cruiser. Soon they'll find they're a necklace short of a full recovery.
Shit, I can't do anything to save him. Even if I somehow managed to possess one of the officers, I would still be outnumbered. That's too much risk. If I turn around and leave, I can get away with a much greater theft than I had ever imagined.
So that's what I do. No honor among thieves, I guess. I pick my shorts out of my ass and strut away from the crime scene.
I click my tongue and return to this girl's workout gear laying on the grass in the park. She has a clutch purse that gives me some information about her. Her name is Tracy Smith. Brown hair, brown eyes, five foot three, 110 pounds.
"Dayum... she tiny," I chuckle. She lives in a nice part of town, probably a White neighborhood, much nicer than the ghetto hole I've grown up in all my life. She turned 18 years old a few months ago.
Her smartphone has a cutesy Hello Kitty! casing on the back. I slide my thumbprint over the screen and manage to unlock it. She has several unread text messages, mostly friends asking if she's free to hang out today. She must be a popular girl... and no wonder, judging by her looks and I haven't even seen her in a mirror yet!
She even has a boyfriend named Tim. Does that make him my boyfriend now?
"Fuck that shit, son, Imma get me a Black bitch instead, maybe Rhonda or Shontelle down on 68th Street," I say to no-one in particular. Rhonda and Shontelle are a couple of delicious-looking hookers I've wanted to bang but they don't like Black guys.
I laugh again in Tracy's voice. "I love making this whye girl say dirty shit. Fuck! I love me some chocolate dick. Gimme dat pussy babe."
A jogger gives me a weird look as she passes by. I blow her a kiss and thrust my hips suggestively at her. She almost stumbles before throwing me a confused, dirty glance and jogging away. "Dats right, you keep on running! Work that ass, mmm. Maybe I'll try twerking a bit on camera as this bitch? She got a nice caboose too." I can feel it jiggle as I walk but still haven't really gotten to see it.
This could be a lot of fun!
Who do we follow next?
 indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2025 Clockworange (UN: clockworange at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
fgh has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author