No.43
With a gentle whir, Frederick “Hotwheels” Brennan exited the turbolift. The large, thick black wheels of his powered wheelchair cruised smoothly across the carpet of the starship Enterprise as he made his way to the holodeck.
“C-Captain!” he stammered, and threw up a hasty salute, as Captain Jean Luc Picard exited the Holodeck in front of him.
“Ah, Ensign Hotwheels. Out for a journey around our fine Holodeck,” he asked?
“Yes Sir, Captain Picard, Sir.” Brennan squeeked.
“Please, refer to me as CP.” Picard stated amiably, “Everyone else does.”
Sweat broke out on Ensign Brennan's brow, but he managed a weak smile “uh-uh… Of course. CP. It means Captain Picard. Right…”
“Correct, Ensign Hotwheels. I see you've signed up for a historical holodeck program? Earth, mid 20th century?”
Hotwheels nodded.
“Indeed. Enjoy your time in there. I've always preferred the early 20th century myself. As you were!” And with that, Picard departed and allowed Brennan entrance to the Holodeck.
Brennan entered through the sliding doors, his confidence growing now that he was away from the Captain.
“Computer!” he dictated, “Load up program 'Martin Luthor King, Jr's Last Night In Memphis.'”
The setting of a decent but inexpensive motel room materialized around Hotwheels' robotic wheelchair. Sitting on a chair in the corner was a well dressed black man, his proud face buried in his hands.
“Oh Lord. Lordy Lordy Lord… Please grant me strength to see this through.” The black man's voice reverberated solemnly through the motel room, his words ringing with the practiced intonation of a southern preacher.
He looked up as he heard Brennan's voice squeak out across the room. “Computer. Turn off Adult Content Lock. Raise simulated lust to maximum levels.”
“Adult Content Lock Removed. Lust raised to maximum. Please exercise caution, Ensign Brennan.”
Brennan whirred his wheelchair around to face Dr. King, who rose to stand, towering above the chairbound young Starfleet officer. Dr. King's erection growing ever steadily, pushing outward against the fabric of his slacks and directly level with Brennan's head.
“In the name of our Lord, Who are you that troubles me today?” Martin Luthor Kings' voice rang out loud, but quavered in awkward discomfort as his hands tried to hide his large, and shamefully growing, erection.
No.44
“My name is Frederick, but they call me Based Hotwheels. I'm from infinity. And I'm here to make you hue.”
“You're here to make me…?” The proud reverend's voice trailed off as Brennan reached forward with his tiny hands and began undoing the belt buckle on the civil right leader's pants. As soon as the belt was loosened, the gloriously thick and turgid cock of a proud black reverend burst into sight.
“Oh my hue…” Moaned Frederick. His tiny hands with their short fingers tried to wrap around the shaft of the glorious ebony tower in front of him, but even both his hands put together couldn't enclose the beast.
“What are you doing? Why are you… hue… doing this to me?” Moaned Dr. King. “Why… hue… Why does your touch… hue… feel so good? I'm not gay! Homosexuality is an… hue… oh hue… an abomination unto God!”
Fredericks hands did their best to stroke the thick cock in front of him, but eventually he gave up. Pushing his robotic chair forward gently, he placed his lips on the tip of the thick black love-spear and slid the head of the cock deep into his mouth.
“Huueeee oh hue hue HUE!” Martin Luthor King moaned loudly, as he felt Hotwheel's tongue circling the head of his dick. “Why are you doing this? Why… hue… Why?
Frederick pulled his lips off of the Reverend's dick, eyeballing the 9” shaft as if trying to formulate a new strategy.
“I've always been a fan of yours…” Hotwheels paused, running his tongue along the bottom of King's cock, taking the black man's balls into his mouth and sucking on them momentarily. “… A fan of your ideals of freedom and equality. Not like some of the other civil rights leaders who want to reverse…” Pausing again to trace a line back up the huge shaft with his tongue “… reverse oppression. You believe in actually equality and freedom. I share those ideals.” Brennan punctuated his sentence by kissing the tip of Reverend King's cock, letting the salty pre-cum spread across his smooth lips.
As Martin looked down toward Hotwheels, he seemed to resign himself to what was happening. “I'm always happy to meet a fellow man who believes in freedom. “
He leaned down and planted a kiss on the ensigns salty lips, while reaching down and undoing the seatbelt on his wheelchair.
“Please,” he said, “Let me show you my support as well…”
King bodily picked up the lightweight ensign, holding his small yet throbbing cock at face level, and buried his thick black mustache in the smaller mans pubes.
“Ooooh Hueeeeee” Moaned Frederick as his cock entered the great orators mouth.
Martin Luther King's powerful lungs and well-honed tongue worked in his favor as he sucked on Ensign Brennan's small, yet proud and unwavering, cock. Brennan gasped, hue-ing louder and louder as he got close to cumming.
No.45
“Stop!” he begged. “Stop!”
The preacher pulled away. “You don't like it, Frederick?”
“Oh god Martin, yes.” Brennan kissed his partners thick lips, enjoying the feeling of King's mustache against his nose. “But I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you from behind.”
Martin's erection, if possible, got even harder.
“I had a Dream,” Martin said, “That one day, all the little white boys, and all the big colored men, would be able to love one another as equals…”
He set Frederick back into his chair, turning around and placing his hands against the wall and spreading his legs.
“Frederick, I want you to help me live my dream.”
“Computer! Activate Holodeck Wheelchair Modification Alpha 18” Frederick's squeek was loud and commanding.
“Wheelchair Modification Alpha 18, 'Fuck Machine,' Now Active.”
With various whirs and clanks, the standard-issue Starfleet shipbound wheelchair began to change. Its 2 big wheels split apart, separating into a quartet of legs. The back and seat straightened out, first leaving Ensign Brennan prone, but then raising him into an upright position. His legs dangled below him uselessly, but his arms and cock were free in front of him.
He nudged the control beneath his left hand and his chair took a step forward, toward the wide black ass before him.
“Doctor King, I want you to know… I'm going to fuck you with the utmost respect. It's not because you're black.”
“Son… I understand. We fuck today as equals, something I thought I would never live to see.”
King reached back with his two large hands and spread his ass-cheeks wide, letting Hotwheels find his target.
“Please, Dr. King. I've already seen Uranus.”
With a final whir and clank, Brennan's chair lurched forward, forcing his cock a full 3” deep into the tight asshole of the Atlanta native. His Fuck Machine began rocking back and forth, pumping his rod in and out of the famous man before him. His moans went in rhythm with his pumps
“Hue… Hue… Hue… Hue… Oh Martin– Hueeeee”
Martin's hands were back on the wall, bracing himself for each forceful chair-assisted thrust that penetrated his dark black ass.
No.46
“I never knew -hue hue hue- That you little white boys -hue- could fuck so good.”
Hotwheels reached out with his two little arms, grabbing Dr. King's hips for support. “Martin,” he gasped, “I'm going to cum.”
“Don't hold back, Frederick! Cum inside me! As the Good Lord Said, 'Your Juice Should Be Set Free!'”
With a loud 'hue,' Hotwheels shot his thick load deep inside Martin Luther King, Jr. and withdrew from his barely-stretched anus.
Dr. King turned towards the young Ensign and kissed him hard on the lips again. “You've filled me up with the good spirit, young Frederick. But now it's my turn.”
The orator grabbed his thick cock with both hands and brought it towards Hotwheels' face.
“W… What do you want me to do?” Frederick's voice turned timid now that his bestial lust for tight black ass was sated.
“I have always felt,” Dr. King began, “That black men and black women should be compensated for past wrongs.”
He pushed his cock against Hotwheels barely-resisting lips.
“It's time for you to compensate me.”
As Hotwheels parted his thin lips to protest, Dr. King forced his cock deep into the small man's throat.
“Black men have been historically wronged,” every syllable was emphasized with a shallow thrust, “ And it's time for us to be repaid.”
The sentence was punctuated with a deep thrust, straight into the back of Brennan's throat. He gagged slightly.
Brennan's eyes were beginning to glaze over as he was throatfucked, but Based Hotwheels was stronger than that, and knew he couldn't go down without a fight. He was determined to come out on top.
Hotwheels began to think quickly. With his throat crammed full of thick black Georgia Trousers nake, he wouldn't be able to give the 'End Program' command to the computer. He was slowly suffocating as Martin Luther King's lust overrode his compassion, and he failed to notice the smaller man's plight.
Thinking fast, Hotwheels used the only thing he had handy: His hands. He reached past the titanic scrotum that was repeatedly slapping against his frail chin, stretched his arm as far as he could, and forced his fist up King's slightly widened, and still dripping, rectum. He plunged his tiny fist elbow deep into a sphincter still lubricated with his own jizz.
“I Saaaaaaaayyyy…” Rang out Dr. King's voice. “I say the good lord Comes from on high!”
It was working. The stimulation on his anus and prostate was driving the good Reverend closer to the edge.
No.47
“Double or nothing” Hotwheels thought, and reached back with his other hand, forcing it home in Martin Luthor King's asshole.
“OOOhhhh HUEEEEEEEE!!!!” With the voice of an opera singer, Martin Luther King, Jr. unloaded a heavy stream of cum directly into the back of Ensign Brennan's throat. Frederick gagged, but fat ropes kept streaming out of the cock in his mouth, coating his tonsils, filling his sinuses, forcing its way through his esophagus and into his stomach. As the cock cleared his airway, Based Hotwheels coughed and hacked the jizz from his lungs and looked up at the monstrous negro cock that had almost killed him.
“Little Man…” Reverend King's guilt on his face was apparent. “I'm sorry, little man. The good lord cautions us against lust. I have no idea wh-”
“End Program.” Hotwheels silenced the errant Hologram that had almost cost him his life. The motel room disappeared around him, and his chair returned to its normal shape and function.
He buttoned up his uniform, secured his seatbelt, wiped the sweat and residue from his face and mouth, and exited the Holodeck. He'd learned a painful lesson today, and he'd have to build safeguards into the program next time he wanted to taste the King. But he'd gotten to tap that fat ass. And how many people could say they'd double-fisted a civil rights leader? It wasn't a day he'd remember fondly, but Frederick found himself thinking that today had had its perks. He boarded the turbolift at the end of the hall and returned to his quarters to recover.
EPILOGUE
Up on the deck, Picard, Laforge, and Riker crowded around a control panel, giggling. Troi glanced at them with disgust.
“Leave Brennan alone.” She said. “You don't need to watch him every time he uses the holodeck for his historical adventures. It must be hard for him to be confined to that chair. He's simply trying to get some larger-than-life experiences!”
Picard and Riker sputtered and turned red, but Laforge simply burst out laughing.
“Martin Luther King!” he chuckled under his breath. “You're right Troi – He certainly was Larger-Than-Life. I don't think Ensign Hotwheels was prepared for how much larger.”
Riker and Picard immediately lost control and literally fell against each other with laughter. Troi, for her part, began to blush a deep red. She didn't understand the uncomfortable feeling she was sensing – What was wrong with a young ensign exploring history? If only more youths could be like young Brennan. Wesley Crusher, for instance. Troi decided the best thing to do was to make sure Wesley was along, next time Brennan took a historical Holo trip. Everyone would enjoy that.
THE END
No.48
>>47Lel.
Now do him fucking moot up the ass with his entire wheelchair.
No.49
>>48It was from a thread on /b/. I asked in the thread for it to be reposted here (shameless plug, I know) 'cause even though there's screenshots a lot of good OC doesn't end up in circulation.
No.50
>>49im so glad someone actually saved my caps. thank you based tripfag. they're long gone from /b/ now
No.51
>>43>>50Holy shit that was AWESOME. I should hang out on 8/b/ more often. Used to be a half/b/tard but iever since I started wroting fics early this year, my boardhopping slowed/stopped.
This is fucking gold.
No.56
All right, that was fun. I think 3 days was long enough for a one-time thing that happened on /b/.
Save it somewhere while it's still here if you want. Given the activity of the board I think there's plenty of time to do so.
No.60
I'll save it in a month or two.