Bruce grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back against his groin...his erection very evident as it pressed against his thick, bouncy buttocks. He struggled to get away...when he realised to his horror that the damn computer was still going *ding* every ten seconds or so. How long had they been struggling? What else had changed? He had to get this straightened out!
"Bruce..." he gasped, as he wriggled around to face his guardian/teacher/father figure.
*ding*
uh-oh
"I know your not going to believe me..."
*ding*
Damn it
"...but this is...this..."
*ding*
SHIT!
"...dis shee-it bes awl fucked up!"
*ding*
Oh, what the hell!
In a rush he pulled away from his grasping, aggressive partner and stumbled to a reflection...and he saw himself. He was still him. Still Dick Grayson...but a Dick Grayson who was so drastically and exaggeratedly altered that he honestly thought that only he could see it.
His jaw...his chin...but surgery had shaved and sculpted. His body...his limbs...but a different life had softened and twisted. His self...but also a total stranger.
It was a Dick Grayson who'd never engaged in his exhausting levels of exercise. His limbs were smooth, soft and oh so roundly shaped...save for his thick, bulging shelf of ass and swollen, bouncing, swaying pumpkin-sized tits. His face was his face...but his lips were a thick set of pouty pillows. His nose a blunt, flat bulb...his hair a poofed, teased halo of red-tinged curls.
He was black. Or rather, his body was the deepest, darkest and fakest 'Martina Big' chocolate brown. Illegally obtained tanning injections atop tanning injections had permantly increased the size, shade and density of his melanin cells.
(A boy...adopted by a staggering rich pervert...drugged, hypnotized and trained to be a wild object of his grotesque fantasies...educated only as a sex object...surgery and surgery and surgery heaped one atop another, until all that was left was this impossible creature. On his 18th birthday he'd finally been deflowered.)
Hyperventilation caused him to weaken at the knees, and he stumbled to all fours. His twisted, deformed body was that of a young man...who'd been turned into the new Bruce's fantasy image of an exaggerated 'Blaxploitation' queen. He was Coffy, Foxy Brown and Cleopatra Jones all wrapped into one package, yet still...still...his penis...
("Mah big dick!")
...was somehow an overblown slab of cartoonishly swollen man-meat, backed by a pair of fat, Peach-sized balls.
As he tried to process the nightmare he had been thrust into...
*ding*
...his huge tits were grabbed and thrust forward by a bright red support bra. His giant ass flossed and flaunted by a strip of green cloth that filled and shifted to position his fat cock. His feet were now strapped into a pair of tall, green stiletto heels. He scrambled to a standing position again, noticing that as he did, his nails were now two-inches long, glossy black, and decorated with little R's. His face a map of cosmetic perfection under his cute, black domino-style mask.
*ding*
He turned and swept one arm wide, shaking his index finger in Bruces face and rasping in a throaty scream "Don' yo' be fuckin' wid meh, Big Daddy!" He'd always called Bruce that, right? "Ah ain' jus' yo' sweet piece o' ass, Daddy...ah be's de hottest tranny in de ghetto! You dig, Daddy? Ah means t' say DAT ah lubs t' suck yo' dick..."
This was...wrong? But how? He knew it was all some horrible lie...but he also remembered years of psycotropic drugs and therapy used to create his 'real' personality. He remembered hundreds of skanky, down market black whores, bar flys and club sluts...being told to walk like them...talk like them...think like them. Bruce deserved to do this to him, because the 'Man ' was always right. He'd watched every conceivable 'blaxploitation' film, always told to 'Imagine you're this woman' or 'Imagine you're that woman', until...he was done. Perfect. Normal. The surgery and injections came later, and now...
"Das right, baby. Regina Robin jus' live t' sucks dat dick! Ah gotta hab it ev'y night. Cum ova heah an' whip dat shee-it out, mutha fucka. Regina dropped to his knees and blew his partner, protector and champion like the most talented of boi-sluts. He didn't even think of the last *ding* that sounded behind him, he was so eager to pleasure his Big Daddy.