Shit No One Cares About Black Future: An Interracial Sissy Story (This is a real book)

[Terrorbyte]

The year is 2045. The southern United States lives under BLACK RULE. All white males are sissified. White women live to serve BLACK KINGS in vast reproduction facilities. Welcome to America's BLACK FUTURE.
Alex Lang remembers life before the revolution – before the government-issued hormones, the sissy wigs, frilly lingerie, and mandatory chastity. He lives on the war-torn outskirts of New Africa, where he hides his beautiful blonde step-sister Kaylee from the clutches of the brutal New African army.
As musclebound black soldiers prowl the countryside searching for fertile white women, Alex will stop at nothing to protect sweet Kaylee's purity. In his pink-and-blue wig, flirty sissy skirt, and fishnet stockings, Alex gives his tender white body to a gang of pitiless black alpha soldiers: the ultimate act of courage and sacrifice. But is sissy Alex prepared for the overwhelming demonstration of power and domination? The encounter brings him face-to-face with his worst fears... and his most unspeakable sissy fantasies.
Acclaimed author and pro domme Whitney Ryan presents a tantalizingly political vision of the future. Her powerful, vivid, fly-on-the-wall passages of three-on-one interracial man-on-sissy action push the boundaries of sensual fiction. The BLACK KINGS have their way with Alex's sissy body, pumping and pounding and cursing through one of the hottest gang scenes in the history of the genre. And interspersed throughout the sizzling prose, a suspenseful narrative full of imaginative world-building unfolds.
Experience the true power of black bulls in black jackboots. Prepare to pay the ultimate reparations. Explore the mind-bending world of BLACK FUTURE, the first book in Whitney Ryan's brand new series.

 

[Mongoloigul]

BLACK FUTURE: BOOK ONE

BY WHITNEY RYAN

Alex labored up the mountainside. His charcoal-black hunting cloak flapped in the late afternoon breeze. His eyes were two slits, glaring beneath the shadow of his hood. Through familiar trails he trudged, his legs burning as the terrain steepened, carrying a pair of plump rabbits freshly retrieved from his traps. Subsistence living must have been hard enough, Alex thought, in the pre-war days. But to do it now, stripped of manhood, bereft of testosterone, addled with government-issued hormones? It was humiliating.

Such was life in New Africa.

Alex arrived at his log cabin, tucked away at the edge of a small village. It overlooked a panorama of peaks: a stretch of glorious mountainous terrain which, only ten years prior, had been part of the state of Georgia. Those days seemed like a half-remembered dream: hazy, idealized, unreal.

Alex stopped at the doorway and looked back over the winding trails he’d climbed, over the mountains of his youth. It was a beautiful day. The late summer’s air was warm and filled with golden sunshine. Broad-tailed hawks lazily patrolled the sky. Alex hated beautiful days; they tempted him into the seductive trap of hope. And ever since the revolution, Alex had learned one thing with total certainty: a whiteboi must never, ever, ever dare to hope.

He entered the cabin, placed the rabbits on the handmade kitchen counter, and removed his cloak. Alex’s shoulder-length pink-and-blue wig bounced, shiny and voluminous, as he pulled it off and placed it on its mannequin’s head beside the hat rack. Many whitebois wore their wigs at home, but not Alex. He was only legally required to wear it out of house, and by god, he wouldn’t wear it a moment longer. He gladly exchanged the humiliating, slutty wig for his natural, short dirty blonde hair when he could. It was one of his small, personal rebellions.

Alex heard the drone of the television in the main room. He knew what that meant: Cori and Tori had sneaked in again to watch television. Wearing his government-issued skirt and stockings, Alex went into the main room to see what the two troublemakers were doing.

“Where’s Kaylee? I brought dinner,” Alex said, trying his best to sound gruff and manly, despite the hormones.

“Down in the village square,” Cori said, twirling the tresses of his green wig, lounging on the old threadbare couch.

“She’s reading stories to the kids again,” Tori said, eyes glued to the screen.

 

[Mongoloigul]

Cori and Tori were born male. They were only teenagers, and consequently they barely remembered life before the revolution. Like all whitebois in New Africa, they’d been placed on hormones immediately following the cease-fire. They knew nothing of the world before. No John Wayne, no cowboys and Indians, no white male heroes. They became natural sissies, dressed the part, and though Alex tried his best, he couldn’t awaken any rebellious masculine impulses within them. They, like many others in the village, regarded Alex as a quixotic subversive: a dreamer with delusions of grandeur.

“You two want to stay for supper? Kaylee’s cooking up her famous rabbit stew,” Alex said.

“Ohmigod that sounds soooo good, Alexa,” Tori said, eyes still glued to the ancient, pre-war flat-screen TV.

Alexa. Alex hated his government name. He shuddered at the sound of it. But by now, he was far past correcting other whitebois when they used it. It was the sort of trivial humiliation that chipped away his soul. His life was full of these small indignities. Such is the cost of losing a race war.

“You’re amazing, Captain Soul,” came a pretty voice from the TV. “Thank you for saving us from those whiteboi losers.”

“Anytime,” came a deep African baritone. “And now, I think there’s somethin’ ya’ll bitches need to do for me.”

Alex looked up at the TV to see a black man on the screen — rippling, musclebound, hulking, with a powerful and heroic jaw — surrounded by two scantily clad blonde women. They wore sci-fi clothing in a futuristic setting. Two whitebois in neon sissy wigs were hanging from a light post behind them: lifeless and lynched by the brave ebony hero.

“What the fuck are you two watching?” Alex asked.

“Captain Soul Patrol,” Tori said. “Everybody loves Captain Soul Patrol.”

There were only three channels. All state-run. All full of outright propaganda or, worse, pulp action shows like Captain Soul Patrol. Alex hated when the village teens came over and watched the filth. It all was written, produced, and transmitted from Atlanta: the capital of New Africa.

“Hey Alexa,” Cori said. “Is it true there were, like, hundreds of channels before the war?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “And that doesn’t even include the Internet. The Internet had even more content than TV.”

“Must have been amazing,” Tori said.

Alex could hardly bear to look at the screen. It was total demoralization. For god’s sake, families got together to watch these shows. It was the only option. There was no escape. And whitebois like Tori and Cori actually liked watching it?

“Fuck us with your master cock, big black daddy,” one of the blondes said, bending her gorgeous, fat white ass over for Captain Soul.

“We want black babies,” the other said, tickling his balls.

“I’m finna nut up in dem guts!” Captain Soul said, wielding his 14-inch glistening black cock. “Git dem white wombs ready. Ya’ll bout ta git knocked up!”

The screen was two decades old: from the 2020s. But it still displayed crystal clear picture in 4k quality. Tori and Cori’s eyes widened as they watched the huge purple head of Captain Soul’s monster cock, smooth jazz playing in the background, slipping into those wet pink pussy lips. The camera showed every detail — with masterful prime-time production quality — as the white women’s faces writhed in bliss. They screamed, howled, and moaned for his cum. They wanted a black baby. They needed a black baby. It was every white woman’s duty, after all: for the good of the nation.

 

[selfishlittlefuck]

Shit tyrone would read before I whip his nigger ass back into fucking my wh*Te whore of a wife

 

[kingdavey]

raisin tyrone would read before I whip his bad boy ass back into fucking my wh*Te whore of a wife

Bro what

 

[Pepsilord]

why do women enjoy gay porn

 

[lifesucksthenyoudie]

why do women enjoy gay porn

Likely for the same reasons men enjoy dyke porn (both are coal, even by porn standards thoughever)

 

[Soynic Hedgehog]

>This is actually a real book by the way
Yeah nigger I know because I wrote it.

 

[ArBcswqnxNobgkdgULRxknEtLw]

Let's just kill niggers I don't care at this point, pull up the graphs and studies where it says they're dumber, weaker and more effeminate

 

[Soynic Hedgehog]

why do women enjoy gay porn

Oooh oooh I watched a video on this one!!!
If I remember correctly, men see things through a masculine lens as women see things through a feminine lens. Men and women have different natural personality traits, there is a sort of understanding barrier between the two, especially when it comes to romantic interest and sexuality.
This is why the woman in porn for men act like horny men if they were put in a woman's body for a day(Ie very assertive, hypersexual, wanting to fuck anything that moves), because the porn is written by men.
"Porn" for women is different, because women because women don't get off to the same stuff men get off to. Firstly men have a dominant sexuality while women have a submissive sexuality, obviously. They will easily be offput by the masculine nature of women in male porn. Also women hate seeing another woman have sex far more than men hate seeing another man have sex. I would imagine this is probably founded off of the fact that male sexuality is more blunt and carnal while female sexuality is more lovey dovey and sentimental. Men sexuality is just cooming. Women sexuality is all about making gigachad to be hers and only hers and soulbonding with him. Or the fact that women are just extremely jealous of other women, far moreso than men are of their fellows.
And with gay porn for women, its usually with very feminine men that act like women about everything, flirt with eachother and and dance around saying anything blunt about their attraction to eachother. I think the normal sexual desire for women is to be owned and dominated by fantastical dashing gigachad as his exclusive better than any other woman woman. The interest in fujo stuff (feminine straight men ending up gay for eachother and having romance movie tier interactions forever before actually admitting love and doing shit) is a sexual adaptation for women who are scared of or had bad experiences with dominant masculine men. So their sexual interests move to nonexistant prettyboy tumblr sexymen acting like women.

I probably got a lot of this wrong but whatever
TLDR women project their sensabilities on men, and some women have an unhealthy addiction to watching prettyboys act catty with eachother and find out they are gay and then be so cute and heckin wholesome together!