Dominoes [Part 2]

By M. Greene -
published May 10, 2017

A successful young man find his life changing and spiralling out of control


Part 2

Jevon lazily turned over onto his back. He stretched his limbs and smiled. He felt so comfortable lying naked in bed like this. As always in the early morning, his dick was as stiff as an iron bar. He began stroking it and thinking about various sexy girls he had fucked. One Italian bitch - he could not remember her name now - had been particularly good in the sack. As he conjured up a vision of the two of them together, he began to realise that imagining himself grinding away at her pussy and fondling her tits was not exciting him in the usual way. In fact, the fantasy was actually turning him off. The strange idea that, rather than being sexy, bitches like her were as ugly as hell, kept flitting through his brain. Their bodies were all soft and flabby and they had those nasty, stanky pussy lips… Jevon’s cock quickly softened in his hand as the erotic feelings died away. Fuck! What was the matter with him? After a few minutes of vainly plucking away at his limp member, he gave up. What time was it anyways? Sitting up in bed, he opened his eyes and stared blearily at the alarm clock. It was eight-thirty am. Glancing at his left arm, he noticed that there was also something not quite right about it. He looked more closely… Fuck! What he saw on his body made him leap frantically out of the bed, suddenly wide awake, his heart hammering in his chest.

He had a tattoo!

It stretched from his left shoulder right down to just below his elbow; an intricate, swirling, tribal design in jet black ink that stood out even against his dark brown skin. What the fuck? He had never gotten a tattoo in his life! He examined it carefully. The work extended all the way around his arm and it appeared sharp and newly executed, but was completely healed up. How could this be? Not only did he have no recollection of getting the thing done, he had always been adamant that he would never allow his body to be disfigured in this way. Totally panicked, he frantically scanned the rest of his body for signs of even more ink, but thankfully, the huge tattoo on his left arm appeared to be the only one.

He walked over to his closet and studied his back in the large mirror on one of its doors. All clear; there were no more tattoos there either. He sighed with relief, but then caught sight of his face. Fuck! His ears were pierced! Small gold rings about a third of an inch in diameter decorated each of his lobes. Also, he had somehow gotten a different haircut. His sensible short Afro, suitable for a professional black guy like himself, was gone. He now had some kind of crazy style, fit only for the ghetto. The sides of his head were shaved, leaving hair only on the top. This remaining hair had been teased out and twisted into small, thin dreadlocks. He shook his head in disbelief. When and how had this been done? How could he have visited a barbershop and gotten his ears pierced without remembering anything about it?

He took a deep breath and examined the earrings more closely. He pulled at them and rotated them. Even stranger than the fact that they were in his ears at all was that, like the tattoo, the holes pierced through his lobes had already healed up. There was no blood and no pain when he touched them. It was as though he had gotten them some time ago! He tried to work out how to remove them, but weirdly, they seemed to be solid gold rings with no visible catch or hinge. Short of cutting them off, he was stuck with them for the time being. He guessed that as he was on vacation, it didn’t really matter and, now the initial shock of seeing them in his ears was over, he decided they did not look so bad.

He continued to stare at his face in the mirror for several minutes. Apart from his hair and the earrings, his handsome, African features appeared completely normal and unchanged; dark brown eyes, a flat, wide, but elegant nose and generously full lips that the girls loved to kiss. Then, to his utter horror, he noticed something glinting inside his mouth.

Fuck! He had a gold tooth!

It was at the top, just to the left side of his two large front teeth. Angrily, he tugged at it with his fingers, but it remained firmly in place. It was obviously a permanent crown rather than one of those slip-on fronts. He shuddered. He had always been so proud of his flawless white teeth and now one of them had been irrevocably damaged. Having gold in his mouth like this gave him a thuggish look, like some kind of fucking pimp! He would never have gotten something like this done voluntarily. How could it had happened? What the fuck was going on?

In an attempt to calm himself down, Jevon took a warm shower, patted his body dry with a towel and applied cocoa-butter to his skin. As he performed these comforting routine actions, he felt slightly more relaxed, but his mind was still racing. Who had done this to him? Why had they done it? Had he been kidnapped or something? Why could he not remember anything? What could he do to fix this? While it would be easy to restore his hair and remove the gold tooth and earrings, the tattoo on his arm was another matter. It was beyond belief! How could such a thing just appear on his body completely painlessly and already healed up? How could he get rid of it? He had heard that laser treatment was not only expensive, but very painful and not one-hundred percent successful. The tattoo was a massive half sleeve, too. He might have to get a fucking skin graft to cover it up!

Naked, he walked back to his bedroom. He needed to find some clue about what had happened to him. His expensive Armani suit lay crumpled up on the floor next to the bed, the white shirt and silk tie thrown across the top of the untidy pile. His shiny black leather shoes appeared to have been hastily kicked off and rested on their sides near his bed. Jevon was fastidious about his appearance and always hung his clothes away carefully in the closet and used shoe-trees for his footwear to keep them all in good condition. Had he been drunk or drugged when he came in? He picked up his suit jacket and pants and searched through them. He found nothing, but this was not unusual as he hated to spoil the crisp line of his suits by putting stuff in the pockets.

His pocket-book and cell phone also lay on the floor, almost underneath the bed. He knelt down, picked up his phone and switched it on. The screen said it was 9.15 am on Saturday, August second. He could recall absolutely nothing after his session with Doctor Beech at the clinic yesterday afternoon. Somehow he had lost about sixteen hours out of his life! Did he have amnesia, or had he suffered some kind of a seizure?

His pocket-book appeared normal; all of his bank cards were there and $160 in twenty dollar bills. This was $100 more than he expected, so at least he had not been robbed during his memory lapse, but why had he drawn out so much cash? Tucked next to the bills was Doctor Beech’s business card. Quickly, he punched the number into his phone. Unfortunately all he got was a recorded message saying that ‘The Meditations Clinic’ was closed until Monday. He would have to wait until then to question Dr Beech. He thought of calling Ruth, but by now she would be halfway to Los Angeles in an airplane with her phone switched off.

He went back to the closet to fetch a hanger for his poor abused suit and got another unpleasant surprise. His clothes collection looked slightly different. Some of his formal jackets and suits were missing and there were more casual clothes than there had been; most of which he did not remember at all. Quite a few pairs of his leather and suede shoes had also disappeared, replaced by ugly work boots and dirty sneakers that he was sure he had neither bought nor ever worn. He felt like crying. What was going on with his brain today? Was he imagining all of this? Was he still asleep and having some kind of horrible dream? The thought momentarily crossed his mind to call 911, but he quickly dismissed this idea. What could the police do in response to a black man saying he had a tattoo and a gold tooth? The cops would just laugh at him.

Deciding to go for a run to try and clear his head of all the craziness that had happened to him, Jevon put on a mesh vest, a pair of speedos, white cotton socks and sneakers. He always tried to jog at least a few times each week as well as putting in regular sessions at his local gym to keep his body in tip top condition. There was a small park nearby and he liked to do twenty laps of this, usually followed by a dip in the communal pool in his apartment block.

Although it was obviously going to be a very hot day, it was still reasonably cool at this time of the morning and he soon established a good, steady jogging rhythm. As it was a Saturday, the park was more crowded than usual; the children’s play area was packed with infants and mothers and the paths were busy with cyclists, other joggers or older people just strolling around. There were sunbathers lying on the grass and a few people doing push-ups and other gymnastic exercises. One guy in particular caught Jevon’s attention every time he completed a lap. He was about the same age as him, but white, with a tanned complexion and long black curly hair. Italian probably, or possibly Hispanic. The guy had a great body; every developed muscle and taut curve showed through the very thin gym clothes he was wearing. The first time he jogged past, the young man was doing sit-ups and Jevon noticed his ripped chest and abdomen muscles. The next time round he had switched to push-ups and Jevon admired his tight, rounded buttocks and shapely thighs. Jesus, he was fucking hot! He would really like to tap that fine ass. He wondered if the guy had a nice big dick that he could suck. Thinking about all of this made his own dick begin to stiffen inside his speedos.


Jevon came to an abrupt halt and was almost hit by a kid riding a skateboard behind him. Why was he having sexual fantasies about a man? Although he did not have any prejudice against gays and had been acquainted with a few at university, he had never had a homosexual urge before in his life. The few times he had been propositioned by a man, he had politely, but firmly, declined the offer. He looked back at the guy he had been ogling. Completely oblivious that Jevon was having carnal thoughts about him, he continued with his workout routine. There was no doubt that he was fucking handsome. Jevon looked down at his dick, which now stood out like a police baton in his pants. What was it that his grandmother used to say to him about sexual attraction and sexuality? Oh yes… ‘Whatever they say you is or ain’t, boy; the truth is that a man’s dick don’t ever lie.’

Jevon returned to his building, took the elevator down to the lower basement, stripped off his vest, socks and sneakers and plunged into the pool. After swimming a few lengths, he returned to his apartment and took another shower to wash away the chlorine. He was starting to feel a lot better. As he dried himself and creamed his body, he admired himself in the bathroom mirror. His new hairstyle looked pretty cool; he actually quite liked it. He was pretty sure that Ruth would too; she was always saying that he was ‘too conservative’ in his appearance. He reckoned that he could probably get away with these short dreadlocks at work too. Middle-class white liberals always made patronising exceptions for black folks. He smiled. He could probably pass his hair off as some kind of ethnic identity statement. He was also becoming accustomed to his earrings and tattoo. The ink on his arm would never be seen at work anyways, and, looking at it more closely, it was a very fine piece of work. The complicated interlocking tribal design in jet black ink actually looked great against his dark brown skin and complemented the curve of his bicep. Even the earrings would be fine outside work hours… He decided that they gave him a rather roguish look, like a pirate. Maybe he would buy some classier and more easily removable diamond studs to replace these rings. His only real problem was the gold tooth in his mouth; that definitely had to go. He would make an appointment with his dentist as soon as possible.

After slipping on some clean clothes and eating a light meal, he decided to spend the rest of the afternoon reading one of the textbooks on probate law that he had bought while at university. He was keen to get his head around this particularly complicated area of legislation; most of Schroeder and Roser’s clients were from wealthy families and there was nothing they liked better than contesting wills and squabbling about them. If he could offer specialisation in probate, his career would be even more lucrative. Settling down on the couch with the book in one hand and his phone in the other to make notes, he began to read.

It proved to be very tough going. Although only the other day he had quickly skimmed through the first five chapters, number six seemed much harder to understand. He found most of the longer words completely unintelligible and lost track of what the sentences meant before he reached the end of them. He tried sounding individual letters out loud, but this didn’t really help him to comprehend either the word or the whole text. After spending half an hour vainly trying to read the first page, he gave up and shut the book. He just wasn’t in the mood for reading, he decided. It was a fucking dry and boring activity anyways! He would call Ruth instead; she should have landed in L. A. by now. He brought up his list of contacts and searched through it. That was weird; Ruth’s name was not in his directory. He continued scrolling around and found that quite a few other numbers were also missing. Weirdly, there were some strange new names in the list that he did not remember seeing before. Who the fuck were Justin, Guy and Pedro? He sighed. Now he would have to call his fucking provider and report that his phone’s memory had somehow gotten corrupted…

Bored, he brought up his dating app and scrolled through the pictures he had been sent since the last time he looked. Although it was only two days, there were over a hundred new bitches interested in him. It amused him that the first photo of themselves these hoes put up on the site was always totally respectable, while the subsequent ones they sent if you showed any interest were pure porn. He flicked through the latest batch of nude selfies taking in an assortment of bared pussies, buxom boobs and fat asses. Out of habit, he stuck his right hand down the front of his shorts and took hold of his dick, but it remained limp and flaccid. All of these bitches looked ugly to him, somehow. There was something fucking disgusting about their flabby, soft bodies and the sight of all that make-up they smeared all over their faces was enough to make him want to throw up. Dropping the phone onto the couch in disgust, he thought again about the young guy he had seen exercising in the park. He had been fucking hot! Hmm! That was better; he was certainly responding to that image… Pushing off his shorts, he grabbed hold of his hardening dick and began masturbating. Oh yes… That ripped body and tight buns were what he really wanted… He wished the guy was here now, standing over him, pushing his big, white, fucking cock deep into his mouth! Oh yeah… Hmm… He was coming…

So much spunk splashed over both him and the couch that it took Jevon quite a few minutes to clean up. He could not remember busting a nut like that since he was a teenager…. So it looked like he was turning gay now. To his surprise, he was not that bothered by the idea. He wondered why he had not realised it before. Most guys had worked out which gender they preferred by the age of sixteen or so. Why had it taken him until he was twenty-three? He shrugged. He guessed everyone was different. He thought about Ruth. Could he still get married to her? Doing so was very important to his career. The answer was probably ‘yes’. Plenty of gay guys got married and enjoyed sex on the ‘down-low’ with other men. He would do the same…

Stripping off his cum-stained tee-shirt, he went into the bedroom to fetch a new one. On top of the chest of drawers, next to his cologne bottles, was a small collection of jewellery he would swear he had never seen before in his life. There was a gold neck-chain and several rings. He lifted up the chain and felt the heavy weight of it in the palm of his hand. It was very good quality and looked to be at least 18 carats. Just looking at it made him feel excited, somehow. With trembling fingers, he undid the clasp and slipped it around his neck. A tremendous feeling of warmth and security coursed through him and he could not resist going to admire himself in the closet mirror. Perhaps he had been missing out for all these years. He now began to understand why so many black brothers wore so much gold. Damn; looking at himself in the glass wearing the chain was making his dick stiff even though he had only just jerked off!

He returned to the chest of drawers and picked up one of the rings. It was a man’s signet set with a flat onyx stone which had a gold letter ‘J’ cut into it. ‘J’ for Jevon, maybe? Was it possible that all these things had always belonged to him and he had somehow forgotten about them? It was a nice looking object, he decided, even though he did not remember ever wearing much jewellery before. He slipped it over the middle finger of his right hand and found that it fitted perfectly. It looked good there too. Feeling the same rush of pleasure as he had with the chain, he began putting on the rest of the rings. There were two quite small gold bands that seemed made for each of his pinkies and the slightly thicker one with the small diamond set into it had to go on his left ring finger. The two remaining rings were quite chunky and only properly fitted his forefingers. As he slipped each ring on, he felt more and more calm. When they were all in place, he held up both hands in front of him and admired the way the gold glowed against his dark brown skin. They felt so right on him, somehow. Obviously, he would not be able to wear more than maybe one or two of them to work, but as he was on vacation, it was fine to wear all six for the time being.

His cell phone was ringing. Walking back to the living room, he picked it up from the couch and accepted the call. It was a man’s voice; the sound of it was very deep and beautiful. A particular word was uttered…


The Entity looked down at the young negro asleep on the couch. Drawing close to his ear, it softly spoke:

“So many dominoes that fell still stand and even more that once stood are now falling. All those choices and decisions you made at school, at home, out in the streets; all so very different, now…”

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