The Adventures of Big Mack
Copyright 2013 by Stormbringer
Note: This story is loosely based on the comic that appears at illustratedinterracial and illustrated by Fobbs. The plot revolves around a black convict that is released from prison and becomes a truck driver traveling to each state and having sexual encounters with different women. I’m adding more depth and changing the dialog to suit a longer story. So far Big Mack has traveled to six different states in his adventures.
Chapter 1: Florida
With one mighty heave, Billy Mackrie brought the pickaxe down on the asphalt and watched with pride as the chunk broke off. He looked up at the sky, avoiding looking directly at the hot Florida sun. The other prisoners threw down their pickaxes and sledgehammers and grabbed their bottles of water. Sweat poured off all their hard muscled bodies. The prison population at the Big Pine Key correctional facility was the reverse of the national population at large, probably 80% black, 15% Hispanic, and the rest whites. Billie didn’t know if that was society’s fault, proof of institutional racism, or the personal choices of his fellow convicts, nor did he care. Prison was his reality and had been for the last fourteen years. He would have gotten out sooner if the crime he committed hadn’t been within days of his eighteenth birthday.
Billie’s father had run off before Billie was even born. His mother had done her best, struggling through several jobs and living off government assistance. She’d kept Billie from joining any of the numerous Miami street gangs or dealing drugs, though he had gotten stoned plenty of times. When she found out she had cancer Billie was devastated, he helped her as best he could, watching her become thinner, her long kinky black hair falling out from the chemo. Still Eboni Mackrie was a strong woman. She insisted on doing everything she possibly could while she was able. She cooked, cleaned, and did the shopping. Billie helped when he could. One faithful day, she insisted on going to the corner market to buy him the ingredients to make him a belated birthday cake. She’d been too sick the week before to bake him a cake. That was the day some addict decided to rob the market.
He was a white man, older, sweating and shaking. His eyes darted around. Both Billie and the store keeper knew he was trouble the minute he walked through the doors. He stormed up to the counter just as Eboni was unloading her cart. Billie stepped back in fear as he watched the man pull a large knife out of his coat. “Open the register now, nigger,” he yelled at the old black shopkeeper. The man turned to Billy’s mom and shouted, “Get the fuck out of the way you black bitch.” His hand came up, grabbed Eboni’s face and shoved her back against a table displaying the stores weekly specials. Billie watched his mom collapse screaming, the fall much more painful to her frail body then it would have been to a healthy woman. Billie stared at his mom quivering on the floor and then up at the man, now sitting on the counter grabbing the money from the register. His mind suddenly became devoid of fear. His fist clenched. He was a strong kid, husky with a lot of weight, but muscles under his fat. The robber didn’t know what hit him. He turned, leaped down from the counter just as Billie Mackrie’s fist slammed into his nose. The addict dropped the knife and fell to the ground. Things might not have gone badly for Billie if he stopped there, but he didn’t. Billie leaped on the man, his fists pummeling his face into a bloody mess. The shopkeeper tried to pull him off the man, but Billie just shoved him away. His knuckles turned raw as he punched the criminal. His right fist was poised for one last powerful strike when he felt the hand on his ankle. His mother had crawled over to her son and grabbed him. “Stop Billie, please stop, you’ll kill him.”
The man didn’t die, but he required facial reconstruction at the state’s expense. The fact that he lived kept Billie from getting the death penalty. The fact that Billie was no longer a minor got him a fourteen year sentence. Billie’s mom lost her fight with cancer soon after her son was sentenced. He attended her funeral in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed and with two prison guards flanking him.
The warden at Big Pine Key Prison did not believe in idle hands. He would have been better suited overseeing a prison 50 years ago then today. Billie found himself working on a chain gang for years until the state legislature put a stop to it. He still had to do hard labor weekly out in the sun, but at least all the prisoners weren’t chained together at their ankles. The hard physical labor and working out in the weight room did wonders for Billie’s physique. His fat turned to muscle and he slowly evolved into a hulking brute. He did keep some of his gut, but it too was hard muscle. Billie used his immense strength to keep the peace in prison. Fights and assaults dropped to almost nothing, there were no prisoners murdered over a record four year period, and subsequently, the guards found little reason to beat belligerent prisoners to a pulp.
Ten years into Billie’s sentence, his cellmate got released and a new convict immediately took his place. His new cellmate was Jesus Estrada, a semi-famous son of a wealthy Florida state representative and an embarrassment to his father. Jesus was known for partying hard and had been caught dealing coke. Representative Estrada tried everything he could to get his son off the hook, but unfortunately the judge was an old political rival of Estrada’s. Jesus was in for five year, out in three with good behavior. Jesus seemed nervous when he met the towering black man, but Billie was polite and shook his hand.
Jesus was nervous his first night in prison and slept lightly. He awoke to the loud splattering of water. He raised his head and glanced over to see Billie standing at the toilet. His eyes inadvertently traveled down to the long thick appendage sticking out between the black man’s legs. “HIJO DE PUTA!” he cried in disbelief.
Billie looked over at his stunned cellmate and chuckled. He shook his mighty cock, draining it of the last bit of urine. “I get that a lot.” Billie turned towards Jesus’ cot. “I’m big even for a black man. Biggest in the prison,” he said proudly.
Jesus reared his head back in horror as Billie’s monster cock approached him. The plump black log was sticking straight out, at least a foot long and it wasn’t even fully hard. “No senior,” he pleaded as the huge cock got closer to his mouth. “Please.”
Billie paused. “Oh! Sorry. No, I don’t go that way. You’re safe with me.”
“Thank god for that,” said Jesus moving his head closer so that he could examine Billie’s cock. The thought of being anally raped by that thing exceeded all the fears he’d had about going to prison.
Copyright 2013 by Stormbringer
Note: This story is loosely based on the comic that appears at illustratedinterracial and illustrated by Fobbs. The plot revolves around a black convict that is released from prison and becomes a truck driver traveling to each state and having sexual encounters with different women. I’m adding more depth and changing the dialog to suit a longer story. So far Big Mack has traveled to six different states in his adventures.
Chapter 1: Florida
With one mighty heave, Billy Mackrie brought the pickaxe down on the asphalt and watched with pride as the chunk broke off. He looked up at the sky, avoiding looking directly at the hot Florida sun. The other prisoners threw down their pickaxes and sledgehammers and grabbed their bottles of water. Sweat poured off all their hard muscled bodies. The prison population at the Big Pine Key correctional facility was the reverse of the national population at large, probably 80% black, 15% Hispanic, and the rest whites. Billie didn’t know if that was society’s fault, proof of institutional racism, or the personal choices of his fellow convicts, nor did he care. Prison was his reality and had been for the last fourteen years. He would have gotten out sooner if the crime he committed hadn’t been within days of his eighteenth birthday.
Billie’s father had run off before Billie was even born. His mother had done her best, struggling through several jobs and living off government assistance. She’d kept Billie from joining any of the numerous Miami street gangs or dealing drugs, though he had gotten stoned plenty of times. When she found out she had cancer Billie was devastated, he helped her as best he could, watching her become thinner, her long kinky black hair falling out from the chemo. Still Eboni Mackrie was a strong woman. She insisted on doing everything she possibly could while she was able. She cooked, cleaned, and did the shopping. Billie helped when he could. One faithful day, she insisted on going to the corner market to buy him the ingredients to make him a belated birthday cake. She’d been too sick the week before to bake him a cake. That was the day some addict decided to rob the market.
He was a white man, older, sweating and shaking. His eyes darted around. Both Billie and the store keeper knew he was trouble the minute he walked through the doors. He stormed up to the counter just as Eboni was unloading her cart. Billie stepped back in fear as he watched the man pull a large knife out of his coat. “Open the register now, nigger,” he yelled at the old black shopkeeper. The man turned to Billy’s mom and shouted, “Get the fuck out of the way you black bitch.” His hand came up, grabbed Eboni’s face and shoved her back against a table displaying the stores weekly specials. Billie watched his mom collapse screaming, the fall much more painful to her frail body then it would have been to a healthy woman. Billie stared at his mom quivering on the floor and then up at the man, now sitting on the counter grabbing the money from the register. His mind suddenly became devoid of fear. His fist clenched. He was a strong kid, husky with a lot of weight, but muscles under his fat. The robber didn’t know what hit him. He turned, leaped down from the counter just as Billie Mackrie’s fist slammed into his nose. The addict dropped the knife and fell to the ground. Things might not have gone badly for Billie if he stopped there, but he didn’t. Billie leaped on the man, his fists pummeling his face into a bloody mess. The shopkeeper tried to pull him off the man, but Billie just shoved him away. His knuckles turned raw as he punched the criminal. His right fist was poised for one last powerful strike when he felt the hand on his ankle. His mother had crawled over to her son and grabbed him. “Stop Billie, please stop, you’ll kill him.”
The man didn’t die, but he required facial reconstruction at the state’s expense. The fact that he lived kept Billie from getting the death penalty. The fact that Billie was no longer a minor got him a fourteen year sentence. Billie’s mom lost her fight with cancer soon after her son was sentenced. He attended her funeral in an orange jumpsuit, handcuffed and with two prison guards flanking him.
The warden at Big Pine Key Prison did not believe in idle hands. He would have been better suited overseeing a prison 50 years ago then today. Billie found himself working on a chain gang for years until the state legislature put a stop to it. He still had to do hard labor weekly out in the sun, but at least all the prisoners weren’t chained together at their ankles. The hard physical labor and working out in the weight room did wonders for Billie’s physique. His fat turned to muscle and he slowly evolved into a hulking brute. He did keep some of his gut, but it too was hard muscle. Billie used his immense strength to keep the peace in prison. Fights and assaults dropped to almost nothing, there were no prisoners murdered over a record four year period, and subsequently, the guards found little reason to beat belligerent prisoners to a pulp.
Ten years into Billie’s sentence, his cellmate got released and a new convict immediately took his place. His new cellmate was Jesus Estrada, a semi-famous son of a wealthy Florida state representative and an embarrassment to his father. Jesus was known for partying hard and had been caught dealing coke. Representative Estrada tried everything he could to get his son off the hook, but unfortunately the judge was an old political rival of Estrada’s. Jesus was in for five year, out in three with good behavior. Jesus seemed nervous when he met the towering black man, but Billie was polite and shook his hand.
Jesus was nervous his first night in prison and slept lightly. He awoke to the loud splattering of water. He raised his head and glanced over to see Billie standing at the toilet. His eyes inadvertently traveled down to the long thick appendage sticking out between the black man’s legs. “HIJO DE PUTA!” he cried in disbelief.
Billie looked over at his stunned cellmate and chuckled. He shook his mighty cock, draining it of the last bit of urine. “I get that a lot.” Billie turned towards Jesus’ cot. “I’m big even for a black man. Biggest in the prison,” he said proudly.
Jesus reared his head back in horror as Billie’s monster cock approached him. The plump black log was sticking straight out, at least a foot long and it wasn’t even fully hard. “No senior,” he pleaded as the huge cock got closer to his mouth. “Please.”
Billie paused. “Oh! Sorry. No, I don’t go that way. You’re safe with me.”
“Thank god for that,” said Jesus moving his head closer so that he could examine Billie’s cock. The thought of being anally raped by that thing exceeded all the fears he’d had about going to prison.
Very interesting plot. It would be desirable more.
ReplyDeleteI would have liked to continue. Fobbs picked the story up again and posted some more art for it. The comic covered Mack having an adventure in each state he traveled to and I liked the idea. Would that I had the time.
DeleteDo you think you would pick this up again?
ReplyDeleteUnlikely, though possible. I liked the idea. Just don't know when I'd ever find the time.
Delete