Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Chip:  The Honky Ranch
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne

part 2

 Curtis had a friend who owned a honky that before the take over, had been an
architect. After an hour of bargaining with his friend, a deal was struck For the use of the
architect honky, Curtis would loan his friend six field honkies for two months. It seemed to
Curtis a more than acceptable trade, after all a field honky was extremely replaceable and
should less than six return, Curtis had been given a guarantee from his friend for full
monetary reimbursement of the lost livestock. Curtis had the architect honky design a not-
so-traditional ranch house, THIS house was built on the scale of a mansion. The house was
gorgeous. It stood three stories tall and mimicked an early style of American western
architecture. The ranch house was itself much too large to ever be considered just a ranch
house. It was in fact a sprawling mansion in the fashion of a sensible western ranch. The
elaborate central drive was flanked with large oaks and gave forth like a great delta into a
circular cul de sac that surrounded a fifteen foot spectacle of a statue. Behind the main
house was a great garden of paths and plantings that ran the length of two football fields.
Dotting the garden and creating a natural canopy were dozens of looming shade trees.
Meandering thru this less than modest garden was a small diverted stream that brought green to all it touched. At the center of the garden was a large open area, canopied by a network of shade arbors surrounded by beautifully landscaped hedgerows and fragrant flowers. This vast outdoor entertaining area would grow to become Curtis's favorite spot in all the ranch, but for now it was just beginning to show the promise of what it could be as dozens of naked honkies labored to trim and prune, plant and tend the ever growing garden. Behind the garden, a great expanse of timber land existed that Curtis had set aside as a game hunting area.

 Sixty-three hundred square feet, six bedrooms seven baths, a formal dining room,
living room, den, game room... This ranch house was a really huge house. Curtis had become somewhat of an environmentalist, so he wanted to have a house that would seem to blend in with nature. He considered this outlook to be a nod to his tribal ancestors who considered themselves to be one with nature. With this in mind, Curtis made sure that his house was built using only natural materials. It was all wood and natural stone. It looked like a huge log cabin...well, a log mansion. Solar panels covered every inch of roofing and three wind turbines spun in the distance. The ranch even boasted it's own water recycling facility and Curtis was proud of it's nearly 'off grid' status. The ranch house was just the main house, surrounding the mansion from all sides were other buildings necessary for the operation of a proper ranch including three modern honky stables a running track for the pony crackers and a kennel for the dogged down honkies. A facility was also in the works so Curtis could have his own veterinarian on site. The fields in which the crackers would be laboring were well out of site of the main property, but within riding distance.  With the honkys working around the clock, the house was built in record time. The two overseers that Curtis had hired were good guys. Curtis liked them, they proved to be very strict and sometimes cruel task masters, but this was fine with Curtis as long as they got the job done. The head overseer, Walford Hays, had worked in the original honky training center before it became outdated when the government turned the breeding and training of slaves over to the private sector. "Wall" as they called him, was built like just that...a wall. At 45, he stood 6'6" and easily weighed 350lbs. And it was all muscle. His skin was black like polished ebony and his large round head shone like an 8-ball.

 Whenever he and Curtis were alone together, Curtis noticed that Wall was a really
laid back guy with a quick wit and an easy smile. As soon as a honky came around though, the change in his demeanor was swift and drastic. He instantly became hard. Curtis liked that. It meant that he would take no shit from the honky. The assistant overseer, Irvin James, was almost as tall as his boss, but not nearly as big, but he too was solidly built at 270lbs. He had caramel brown skin and short curly hair. Irvin, in complete contrast to Wall, always seemed to be very sober and serious. Curtis, ever the psychologist, suspected that this serious demeanor was the outward manifestation of the nervousness of his youth. He would eventually grow out of it. Curtis had made it very easy for these two Men to decide to come and work for him on the ranch. In addition to a decent salary, each Man would have a house to live in free of charge and a slave to go with the house. This was especially appealing to Irvin because he was Married with a baby on the way.

  Running a honky ranch was easier than Curtis had ever thought. When he first started, Curtis would wake up at the crack of dawn, and within an hour, he would be out in the fields watching over the field honkys, and later in the stables making sure that the ponys were being fed and groomed. Curtis watched over the house honkys as they scurried back and forth, cleaning and making the rooms spotless. He watched the outside crackers tend the grounds, occasionally correcting one, or giving additional commands. Curtis was beginning to take great pride in the landscaping of the property and he kept a close eye on the activities of the gardening crackers, in fact, Curtis took great interest in every aspect of the day to day running of his ranch, there wasn't a single area of the huge estate that he did not visit on his daily 'rounds' of the ranch.  One particularly pleasant evening, Curtis and Wall were relaxing by the pool enjoying the cool night air. Curtis suddenly looked at his watch. "It's getting late and I have to get up early in the morning.”

 Wall put down his drink and looked quizzically at Curtis. “Why?” was all Wall
uttered in response.

 “The vet is coming to look at the ponies around noon, but I want to get up early and
meet them in the field.” Curtis said, the vision of a row of cracker ponies, lined up for
inspection, filled his thoughts for a moment.

 "I've been meaning to ask you, Curtis", Wall said between puffs on his stogie. "Why
do you get up at first light in the morning?"

 "Well," Curtis said. "It's My responsibility. I need to..."

 "That's the point" Wall hefted his huge frame into a sitting position on his patio
lounger. "You're the boss. You own this place and it is up to where it practically runs
itself. You've hired perfectly capable overseers to run both sides of the business for you."

 "But the work..." Curtis began.

 "Work?" Wall asked "What work? We don't work, the honkys do all the work all we do
is keep them on task. Hell, most of the time Irv is out there sitting under a tree drinking
lemonade, while I'm in the stable workin' the ponies. There's no work"

 Curtis furrowed his brow and took a deep breath, "Well what is it you think I should
do?"

 "Hell, relax a little, man!" Wall said. "You're just about the richest man in these
parts, shoot you definitely own more than anybody else. You need to relax a little. trust
the people you've hired and the honkys you've trained to do their jobs."

 Curtis chuckled a bit, "That's easier said than done, My friend"

 "No it ain't" Wall said matter-of-factly. "Just take it one day at a time. Starting
tomorrow. The vet isn't coming until noon. Sleep in, enjoy that hot piece of honky ass you
got prancing around that big ol' mansion"

 Curtis thought to himself, He had been putting a lot of effort into the daily
running of the Ranch, perhaps it was time to sit back, and turn on the auto pilot for a
while. Wall's words made perfects sense, and Curtis decided he was gonna do just that. It
was good to be King and now Curtis was going to behave like it.

 The next morning, because he had turned his alarm clock off the night before, Curtis
woke up at 8:30am. He was used to getting up at five every morning, so this was really
sleeping in for him. He laid there for a few minutes in his huge king-sized bed and allowed
his vision to clear. As Curtis rolled over onto his side, his sleep encrusted gaze was met
by a pair of hazel eyes looking directly into his. Poor cracker, he thought to himself, the
mutt looked confused and even a little worried. It was used to his master getting up before
dawn. Curtis knew that pets like cracker were creatures of habit and they often became
confused and unsure when something out of the ordinary happened.

 "Cracker, Piss" Curtis said authoritatively. Immediately the pup leapt into action.
Without a moment's hesitation he was up on the bed with his master's nine inch dick in his
mouth. Because Curtis' morning wood had a gentle upward curve, cracker had to position
himself in such a way so that he could get that precious meat all the way down his throat
without causing his master any discomfort. He did this by straddling his Curtis' body in
what could be mistaken for a 69 position (of course cracker's little dick never got anywhere
near his master's face). This position made it possible for cracker to easily take his
master's long thick cock into his mouth and smoothly down his throat. Seconds after the
honky had achieved the proper position, Curtis relaxed and let loose a powerful stream of piss. He loved the feeling of his piss going directly down cracker's throat. Curtis had spent a lot of time and energy training this honky to be exactly what he wanted him to be. And believe it or not, it took a lot of training to turn a honky into a proper urinal. See, any honky can be made to drink piss, but there is almost always some spillage. It took some time and quite a few severe beatings but now cracker was able to swallow fast enough to take all the piss his master (or anyone else) had to give.

 Cracker had once been a human being, although he wouldn't believe it if you told him
so. If you asked him, he would tell you that he was just a dumb honky. He would say (and
believe wholeheartedly) that he had never been human, no mother or father. No family, no
history. The only thing in his life, cracker would honestly affirm, was his Master. And more
still, that his Master was the absolute center of the universe. Making his Master happy was
his only purpose in life.

 Cracker was not only Curtis' urinal, but he was his pet pup, his personal valet, his
cum dump and his dick warmer. Anything that Curtis needed or wanted was done without
hesitation. Curtis had toyed with the idea of completely dogging down the honky. He had
considered even going so far as having the pup's vocal cords cut and his body modified to
look more like a dog. Ultimately, Curtis decided against this because he liked the fact that
the honky still looked like a man and could even interact as one when need be. When he stood erect (which he didn't do very often), cracker's full height was about 5'10, his hair was buzzed to almost nothing but it was obvious that his hair was a dark auburn and his hairline was reseeding. The honky's body was slim, but toned with a light dusting of freckles.

 One of the things that Curtis loved about this particular honky was his
lightheartedness and his natural ability to entertain. While he pissed down the honky's
throat, the position put the whitey's ass close to his face. Curtis reached up to stick his
finger into the surprisingly still tight pussy hole that was this slave's anus. Cracker
obviously liked it because he moaned a little and gave his hind end a little shake like a
dog wagging his tail.

 When Curtis was done pissing, and the honky had gotten that last little drip by
running his tongue along the piss slit, he shooed him away and the pup (on all fours, of
course), bounded off the bed and scurried over to his honky bed in the far corner. Curtis
laid there for a few more minutes. He really didn't know what to do with himself. He
stretched luxuriously in his plush bed. After a few more minutes, he swung his big feet out
of the bed, stood and sort of ambled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 The shower in Curtis' bedroom suite was set off from the sink and separated by a
stained glass door. While he was brushing his teeth, Curtis heard the shower come on and
knew that cracker was on his job. When he had finished brushing his teeth, Curtis entered
the shower area and found cracker on his knees holding a loofah sponge in one hand and a
bottle of shower gel in the other. As Curtis walked in and stood under the perfectly hot
water, cracker sprang into action. He applied gel to the sponge, and began to soap up his
Master's magnificent body. For his part, Curtis stood there and allowed the honky to almost
lovingly explore every inch of his body. This is good, Curtis thought to himself.  Most
mornings he is in such a hurry that he didn't take the time to enjoy the pampering that his
personal honky lavished on him. This morning, though was much different.  As the mutt
caressed his back with the sponge, Curtis could feel himself become aroused. He turned in
the shower and looked down at cracker who seemed to be totally focused on cleaning his body. Curtis had to stop himself from laughing out loud when he saw the slave's reaction to his massive erection. It was very subtle, just a slight pause and an upward glance, but he knew that the honky was surprised to see it. Curtis chuckled a bit as he brought his hand down to rest his palm on cracker's head.

 As if an unspoken signal had been given, the honky opened his mouth and waited. He
didn't have to wait long. Within seconds Curtis had plunged his big black dick balls-deep
into cracker's mouth and down his throat. To his credit, cracker swallowed the head of his
Master's dick like it was second nature. Curtis thought back to a time when the pitiful
honky actually had a gag reflex. Well now that reflex, which had been pretty strong, was a
thing of the past. It was just proof that with proper training just about anything could be
done with these honkys, and this one in particular had been well trained indeed.

 Soon, all thoughts of training, the ranch, the past and future had vanished from
Curtis' mind completely as he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment, enjoy the
velvet throat of this honky kneeling before him. Cracker was, without a doubt, the best
cocksucker of all the honkys on the ranch. Curtis knew this to be a fact because he had
sampled them all. He marveled at the way the mutt attacked the dick with all that was in
him. It was as if his life depended on it. Curtis looked down and watched as the water from
the shower cascaded down his own body and onto cracker's head as he went to town on this dick.

 Funny, Curtis thought to himself, less than a decade ago, this honky had been a night watchman at a museum that showcased stuffed versions animals that the white devils had driven to extinction. He had been a complete nobody. His life had been perfectly useless. Now, however, his life had purpose. Look at him down there, Curtis thought to himself, nursing on My dick like it is the most precious thing in the world. NOW his life had meaning and purpose. Soon Curtis could feel his own cock begin to grow, he knew that he was getting close. He reached down with two big black hands, covered each of the honkys ears with his palms and wrapped his long thick fingers around the back of cracker's head. Then with long, smooth motions, he began to ram his dick into the honky's mouth and down his throat, over and over again, the bitch never gagged, never tried to resist. He just put his hands down and allowed his Master to use his throat to get off. And get off Curtis did. Without warning the furious face fucking stopped and with his head held totally immobile in his master's vice-like grip, nose to bush and chin to balls, cracker felt that marvelous tool begin to pump the precious seed into his gullet.

 Once his balls were drained, Curtis was ready to start his day. He got out of the
shower, allowed the honky to dry him off, and than padded naked back into his bedroom. As he came out of the shower area, Curtis' nose caught the most heavenly scent...BREAKFAST!. And it smelled like cook (he didn't even bother giving his houshold honkies names) was making flapjacks.
The Chip:  The Honky Ranch
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne
       
Part 1

 Curtis Johnson stood on the front porch of his grandfather's old dilapidated shack
and thought to himself  "Well it's all mine now."  The shack was small, faded chips of white
paint still clung to its gray weathered wood and the smell of age had permeated every fiber
it it's worn frame.  Time and the elements had done their work with proficiency.  Curtis had
just come from the reading of his grandfather's will.  Otis, Curtis's grandfather, had been
ninety-three years old when he had died a week ago of lung cancer .  Otis had been a chain
smoker since he was eighteen years old, and when he was fifty-three his doctors diagnosed
him with cancer and gave him five years to live...less than that if he didn't quit smoking
immediately.  Otis had been an old stubborn cuss and was too pigheaded to quit a life long
vice.  Otis would sit at his kitchen table, rolling his own cigarette, his lap littered with
Bull Durham and proclaim to anyone within earshot "Doctors!  What do they know!  I'm not
gonna let some know nuthin' doctor tell me what to do!"  Turns out he wouldn't even die when they told him that he should.

 He lived another forty years.  Five years ago when the Takeover happened, some men
had tried to convince Otis to leave his shack and expand his little farm into a sprawling
modern ranch.  They even offered him the land surrounding his farm.  It would have
increased, by almost ten times, the size of his farm.  Otis had flat out refused. The old
man had removed the damp nub of his cigarette from the corner of his mouth and tossed it
onto the dusty front porch.  He pointed to the men and in a deep gravely voice said "I don't
want nothin' from the white man."  And he sure as hell didn't want any honkies on his land. 
So for the last 3 years the farm had basically gone to shit, because Otis had gotten too
sick to look after it and was way too stubborn to ask for help.  Now old Otis was dead and
had left all his worldly possessions, the shack and surrounding land, to Curtis, his only
grandson.

 Curtis had spent the last five years working as a psychologist for the U.S.
Department of Transition.  His job had been to help his fellow citizens acclimate to this
new reality, to accept and be productive in this radically new and wonderful existence . 
Believe it or not, after all the white people had been taken and lost their status as Human
beings, many blacks feared the same thing would happen to them.  It was Curtis' job to
reassure them.  To help them see the benefits of the new system and to learn to trust that
it was all for everyone's own good.  Everyone's own good, including that of the honkies. 
For if the white man had been allowed to stay in charge, he would surely have destroyed
himself and everyone else as well.  Curtis had always known that the time would come when his job would become unnecessary, he just didn't expect it to be so soon.  But nothing is forever, and as Curtis kicked at the dusty old floor of the porch his mind raced.  He thought optimistically of a future here, on what was his grandfather's modest plot.  Now he had been given the opportunity to make something of this little farm.
 
 Of course, Curtis didn't feel any of the mistrust for the government that old Otis
had.  And he had absolutely no problem with the use of honkys to achieve his goals.  In
fact, he already owned three honkys, himself.  Even though he knew nothing about farming,
Curtis was confident that with his common sense and the labor of a good many honkies his
vision for a prosperous ranch could be realized. Curtis viewed it as an opportunity to make
something out of nothing.  A chance for personal growth.  As soon as the local
representative from the Department of Wealth and Resources found out that Curtis would be
taking over the farm, he paid Curtis a visit and made him the same offer that he had made to
Otis. Curtis,however, accepted the offer gladly and without hesitation.  He was eager to get
started.  Curtis was not a big man, neither was he small.  He stood at an even 6' and
weighed about 200lbs.  He had a slight paunch (a result of his fondness for beer), but the
rest of his body was surprisingly taught and muscular.

 His late wife used to call him her caramel drop, because of his light brown skin. 
Linda had died in a car accident just before the disappearances started seven years ago.
Curtis was thirty-four at the time and had a thriving psychology practice.  Linda had been
the love of his life, she had touched the part of him that no one else could reach.  His
very spirit was intertwined with hers.  She had given him two beautiful sons, twins Jeff and
Jacob, now fifteen.  Both were excelling in this new world and looking forward to running
the new family business.  Both Jeff and Jacob each owned his own slave.  Curtis had given
these gifts to his sons for their thirteenth birthday with only one restriction:  NO sex
until they were eighteen.  Curtis just felt that it was healthier this way, developmentally
for his sons if they waited, although he suspected that there were things going on that he
didn't know about.  Curtis had left the boys at his estate in the city.  They would continue
at their school until the ranch was up and running and they could move out to the country. 
They didn't really want to change schools, but it couldn't be helped.  Curtis had watched
his sons as they handled and trained their honkies, and he had no doubt they would grow up
to be perfect examples of superior Black Men, husbands, fathers, Masters.
 
 Curtis gathered up his things, walked slowly off the front porch of the tiny shack
and went out to his Jeep.  He was ready to get to work.  The farm was in complete disarray,
but Curtis knew that with the purchase and proper use of the right kind of honkies that
situation could be remedied fairly quickly.  He had driven the property earlier that week,
inspecting just about every acre,  so he had some idea of the sheer vastness of it.  And he
also had some idea of what he wanted to do with it.  It would not be just a farm.  Curtis
decided that he wanted to have a fully functional ranch.  With the ban on non-honky animal
labor, there was a huge demand for trained honkies.  Along with the crops that he would
grow, he would also train honkies for whatever purpose their owners wanted for them.  He
knew that wealthy Americans would pay top dollar for a professionally trained honky.  Curtis
was most excited about this aspect of his new endeavor, but he knew that it would not see
it's true fulfillment until the chip had been phased out completely.  He also knew that
methods were being developed to train unchipped honkies.  Curtis, with his high government
clearance, could keep a close eye on the development of these techniques.  But for now he
had a ranch to build. 

 Curtis drove to the local Honky Administration Office.  It was time to start choosing his work force.  Curtis had been to the Administration Complex many times, but he was always struck by the immense size of the place.  It was like a small city, complete with skyscrapers and an airstrip.  It sat on about two square miles of land, and Curtis had heard that honkies were kept in a huge underground compound.  He would give just about anything to see that, but since most of the honkys kept there were unchipped, civilian access was strictly forbidden.  Curtis could have purchased slaves from a private dealer for a lower price but he had need of a specialized workforce.  Plus, the government gave a small discount when you bought honkies in bulk.  That, along with his employee discount, meant that it would simply be much smarter to do it this way and buy from the 'administration.  Besides, Curtis figured that he would take advantage of the government discounts while could, because within the next few years, the trade of honkies would be completely
privatized, and the prices would go up.

 When Curtis reached the Honky Administration Office, he was met at the door by a
tall, thin, pale, blonde honky.  The honky was wearing just a heavy metallic collar around
it's neck and an inviting smile on it's lips.  The number 472 had been tattooed on it's
forehead.  Curtis guessed the slave to be perhaps nineteen or twenty years old and that, up
to this point, the cracker had only been gently used.  "Welcome Master Johnson" the slave
said, "Master Perkins is expecting you, he'll be with you in a moment.  If it pleases you to
have a seat, Master, there are some very comfortable chairs just this way."  The honky
gestured with his open hand to a small seating area.

 Curtis sat, and the slave asked if he was comfortable and if he wanted anything to
eat or drink.  "Just an ice water" Curtis said.  And with that, the lanky honky turned and
sauntered off to get the water.  Curtis watched his ass as he walked away a desire stirring
at his core.  Curtis made a mental note.  He would have to get himself a scandinavian...but
not today.  Today was about finding skilled laborers.  After what seemed like only a second
or two, the honky returned with Curtis' water and after being assured that his services were
no longer needed, he retired to his corner and knelt on the floor with his head slightly
bowed, but not so much as to keep him from seeing any indication that there was need of his services.

 After a wait of only about five minutes, the door opened and Mr Perkins, a squat
very light skinned black man stepped into the room.  He looked like he might have been about 5'5" and quite portly.  He was red-headed and he even had freckles!  Go figure.  Must be some honky in his blood somewhere, Curtis thought to himself.  The two men introduced themselves while another honky, very similar to the last, but with brown hair and the number 329 on it's forehead, walked into the room carrying a large stack of folders.  Mr Perkins explained that he had taken the liberty of doing a search and finding a number of properties that would suit Curtis' needs.

 Curtis had decided that he would require about twenty honkys to start with.  These
honkys would need to have construction experience because the first thing that needed to be done would be the construction of the necessary buildings for the daily operation of a ranch. .  The first of which to be erected, his family residence...The Ranch House.  As he looked through the dossiers of the honkies that Mr. Perkins had selected (about one hundred and fifty), Curtis realized that many of the skills these honkies possessed were identical.  So he decided that he would save time by selecting his foreman first.  Then he could just take any twenty of the others.  The choice proved to be quite simple.  The one Curtis chose had owned a large and fairly successful construction company before the Takeover.  Curtis was very satisfied with his purchase.  He was certain that with the skilled labor honkies he had just obtained today, he would be able to realize the architect's vision for his Ranch House.  Curtis left the Administration office having paid for his purchase and with the promise of delivery the next day.  
The Chip:  Alex's New Life
By Sir Kinyon
edited by  junior wayne


Part 4
 Alex used the next several weeks to not only get used to using his new slave (for whom he had chosen the name "toby", after the slave in "Roots"), but also to get his house in order. The house given to Alex by the government was a large two story colonial, with three bedrooms, three and a half baths a two car garage, a den, a laundry room and a basement that had been converted into a video arcade.

 The four slaves, including toby, that Troy had brought that first day had done an excellent job of cleaning the place up.  They had not done anything to the yard which, after months of neglect was well overgrown.  As a little boy, Alex had always dreamed of having a house with a large front yard where he could lounge and drink lemonade on a hot summers day.  Now he had one and Alex planned on making up for lost time.  He immediately set toby to the task of cleaning out all the weeds and mowing the lawn.  Alex sat on the front porch and watched the cracker toil away on the lawn, a very real sense of vindication filling his heart. After an hour Alex grew tired of watching the honky labor on the lawn and went back inside the house to continue his day, periodically coming out to check on the cracker's progress.  It took toby over six hours to tend the front of the house with the hand tools and the little push mower he found in the garage.  When he was finished toby was exhausted, sopping with sweat, covered in dirt and grass clippings.  Toby stank of honky odor and he sported a sunburn on most of his naked body.  Alex  hosed toby off and commanded him to drip dry on the porch before he would allow the honky back inside the house.   It wasn't until a couple days AFTER the honky had finished the very large front yard, that Alex found a large riding mower in a shed out back.  Too bad for toby, but the exercise was good for him. Alex thought.  He might just forbid the honky to use the riding mower.
  
 Now, with toby's daily tending, the front lawn had a beautiful, well manicured appearance.  Alex noted that from the spacious front porch, it looked like a sea of dark green punctuated by hundred year old oak trees.  Between two of these beautiful old trees hung an old fashioned hammock.  This is where Alex had come to like having his lemonade.

 The back of the house was a beautiful garden, once toby had cleared away all of the weeds.  Upon reading more of toby's file, Alex discovered that, as a kid, the honky had worked a number of summers for a landscaping company to make extra money.  Those skills came in very handy now.  The centerpiece of this backyard garden (which was almost twice the size of the front yard) was a spectacular three leveled swimming pool, with little waterfalls cascading over sculpted natural stone.  It was really a sight to behold.  Or at least it should have been a sight to behold, after months not having been maintained, the pool's water was murky and thick with clumps of algae and dead leaves and all manner of aquatic insect had decided to make the pool their new homestead.  As luck would have it, toby knew nothing about pool cleaning.  The honky stood at the edge of the pool, a horrified look on it's face.  Alex had to laugh when the honky attempted to make it known that he didn't know how to fix the pool's problems.  The cracker stuttered and stammered, trying to avoid words like 'i can't' and 'no'.  Clearly the honky was desperate to escape another beating for not performing to Alex's rightfully high standards.  His master remedied that quite easily with a book borrowed from the University library.  Alex had tossed the oversized aqua marine and orange book at toby and said "Here's what u need honky, I expect that pool to be ready by this week end."  Alex added as if an afterthought.  "I'm gonna take a dip... in my new pool."

 The white family, the Oswalds, who had previously occupied Alex's home had been gathered up and taken rather quickly and of course they had not been allowed to take any of their belongings so the contents of the house were, apparently, just as they had left them.  Alex knew it was a whole family, not only because of the decorations, paint colors and bedding styles of each room, but also because of the family photos that littered seemingly every inch of the house.   Alex took great pleasure in going through everything they had owned. As expected, none of Harold Oswald's clothes were anywhere near Alex's size, but the quick sale of some of his wife's diamonds, provided Alex with a very nice wardrobe. Alex sorted into piles what he intended to keep.  The 'keep' piles contained things Alex wanted for his own use or things he figured would be worth selling.  The rest Alex simply discarded.  The majority of the Oswald's possessions were tossed into a dumpster, mostly personal, sentimental items, papers and photos.  There was ,of course, an immense amount of what Alex could find no other descriptive word for other than 'junk'.  Alex was also seriously considering having a decorator come in to completely purge the aftertaste of 'the Oswalds' from his home.

 Alex had never really liked college.  In fact, the only reason he had gone in the first place was because that was what Nana had wanted for him.  So instead of trying to get a college degree, now, he opted for the new government career training center.  He learned that with the rebirth of slavery, there would be more than a few government agencies created in order to make sure that everything ran smoothly.  These agencies would be very well funded and they would need people to run them.  Alex, read that one of these agencies would be called the "Wealth Distribution Agency".  The removal of the white man from society had left many openings in the job market, it also left the white man's money to fill government coffers.  The people responsible for this whole "power shift" had envisioned a model society...a utopia as it were.  They knew that the superior Black Race could do an infinitely better job at providing a quality life for it's citizens.  The wealth confiscated from whitey would go a long way toward reaching that goal.  Of course the new leaders were realists and they knew it would still not be easy or quickly done.  They knew the actual realization of this dream was still many, many years off.  But, Alex comprehended almost immediately, that the Wealth Distribution Agency, would be at the forefront of this endeavor and that's where he wanted to be.
 
 Now, after only four weeks of intensive training, Alex had taken his place as a local distribution agent.  It was his job, to pour over deeds and maps to decide what confiscated properties were  available, and also to help decide who to put with each property.  He decided that the way he and many like him had been chosen for the training program was not the most efficient way to go about it.  Alex decided to use a needs-based model.  One of the things that the government was most concerned with was the ghetto.  Alex compiled a list of single mothers from his old neighborhood.  Then he selected from this list the mothers who were not able to work for one reason or another.  These mothers along with their children were then placed onto a large farming complex outside the city.  There they would live a basically communal existence.  It reminded Alex of the tribal life that many Africans had lived before the intrusion of the white man.  Of course these women and their families were well taken care of, their community, their village, if you will, wanted for nothing and enjoyed every modern convenience.  They were even given a good number of neutered honkys to serve them.  The first test of this style of community was conducted over a six month period.  It went so well that not only was it extended but it was adopted by other cities.

 Alex's boss was so impressed by his foresight and vision to say nothing of his initiative, that Alex was given a promotion and a substantial raise.  Of course Alex enjoyed all of the honors and praise and the added benefits that went along with his promotion, but his true joy came when he saw his old neighborhood being razed to make room for farmland. 

 Now, five years since the mass distribution of slaves, Alex could definitely see a change in his beloved city.  Everything was cleaner somehow.  Even the air smelled cleaner, due, no doubt, to the fact that many of the factories that had churned out air pollution were shut down.  The significant reduction in population simply rendered many of these factories redundant.  Alex was very proud of what his people had accomplished in such a short time.  Alex took the most personal pride, however, in the fact that there was no homelessness. In fact, it seemed that old dirty street people had been replaced by naked honkys waiting for their Black Masters to come out of one store or another, squatting silently next to shop doors that had clearly posted signs on their smudge-less glass windows reading 'no honky allowed'.  Other honkys, wearing the now familiar orange rubberized collars of state owned honkys, picking up litter and sweeping sidewalks, the reflective band running through the middle of their collars periodically catching the light and glowing like electric moonlight.  The New Government had taken great pains to insure that Black People got used to treating whitey exactly like what he was, the scum of the earth.

 The new, duly elected, Black President of the United States appeared on television one evening.  He was sitting, not in the oval office, but fireside, in a very comfortable leather wing-backed chair. The fire popped and cracked and threw dancing yellow light into the room.   At the Presidents feet, crouched the former white president, naked, collared, and on his knees. This image was seared into the mind's of the American people.  The president was a commanding figure with deep set eyes as dark as the night, his proud, broad nose, prominent lips and blue-black skin.  He spoke in a deep baritone voice and addressed his people.  He told the people that it was high time that a change had come.  "The white man had his time, and he made a mess of the entire world.  Now it is time for the Black Man to take his rightful leadership role."  The President stated straightforwardly. 

 "Other countries, with help from the US, have been making similar changes."  The President continued.  "We, in the USA, are simply at the forefront.  For years Black leaders the world over, have been secretly trained."  The president paused for a beat to emphasize his next statement. "Trained to take their god given right, when the time came, as rulers and sovereigns over what has historically been considered white countries.  Countries that are governed and populated by other non- Black races have naturally been unaffected.  Countries such as China, Japan, Mexico, Brazil, and others like them will continue to remain autonomous and will of course maintain their own sovereignty, governing themselves as they see fit."  The President allowed his forehead to crease and he took a measured breath.  "But countries such as Great Britain, Russia, The European Union will see much change in the following months.  Wherever a honky now holds an illegitimate office of power, soon Black men and women will govern, and these lands will be under their control"  The president folded his hands together and explained.  "It is a genetic flaw in all honkys that makes it possible."  The President went on, explaining the basic function of the chip and it's implementation and the genetic inferiority of the white race.

 "The takeover is happening right now, even as I speak with you tonight, it is underway."  As the president spoke, he absentmindedly rubbed the salt and pepper crop of stubble that was the remains of the former president's thick head of hair.  The President stroked his honky's head and introduced the country to his new pet . His pet that he had named "potus", an abbreviation of President of the United States.  The President went on to express the importance of firmly and unalterably defining the honky's new nature and status.  He explained that future generations of honkies would likely not be chipped.  "It will be vital that they grow up knowing nothing but their non-human status."  The president stated.  To help ensure this future tranquility, the president announced that ALL animal labor would be outlawed for the foreseeable future.  This law would be implemented gradually of course to allow the population to get used to it.  But soon, there would be no work horses, but work honkies.  No pack mules, instead, pack peckerwoods.  "And just as I have potus here" The president looked affectionately down at his predecessor and continued. "You too will have pet honkies fetching sticks in the park for your entertainment."

 All of the President's predictions were coming true before Alex's very eyes.  In fact, Alex was prospering, as was the country.  He had even bought a couple more honkies for himself from a private dealer.  These were slaves that would, in the future, serve a very specific purpose.  All perfectly legal of course, they were just honkies after all, and what a Black man chose to do with or to his property was his decision and his alone  Alex, like all Black Men, had completely accepted this new society and the honky's place in it.  They were in fact finding all sorts of uses and purposes for honkys.  The demand for top quality slaves was opening up vast new sectors of industry and trade while simultaneously amassing great wealth for the nation.  As for his new property, Alex was eager to get started, the world had opened up to him and with the world, new ideas and desires had blossomed and these two honkys would be instrumental in helping Alex realize some of his more...extreme fantasies.  But those thoughts were best put aside for later, right now, he was taking toby to the vet, for his annual vaccinations.