Looking back, it felt almost like a paradox to Johnathan Williams; it simultaneously happened over the course of years in full view of everybody but also seemed to be in the blink of an eye. The once near entirely homogenous white majority of European and Western nations was resoundingly supplanted by a black majority. Asian and Eastern nations were not far behind. Immigration, a hot button topic, was the focus of every elected government from Albania to Norway to Canada for decades. Little did they know that the scales had already irreversibly tipped, and they could do little to stop the millions of African migrants arriving at every nation’s borders every year.

Italy was the first European country where whites were no longer a majority. The close proximity to the North African coast was one of the biggest factors, however fertility was the thing nobody wanted to talk about. An official statistic from the ONS a few years ago found that the average white couple in England had 0.5 children, whereas the average black or interracial couple had 4.2. Facts like that seemed to make what happened a foregone conclusion.

To attempt to redress the rapidly shifting balance between native and immigrant people, the UK had begun a scheme to remove any financial burdens on its citizens who had more than 3 children. Johnathan was an average 22-year-old white guy when this was introduced, and he didn’t have any particularly strong opinions on what was going on. If he was going to be a minority he didn’t particularly care, it didn’t matter to him.

All while people like Johnathan and his housewife Rebecca were happily living their lives, the landscape of their country had been shifting. Political tension and extremism had continually risen fuelled by racism, immigration and financially catastrophic policies. A fringe political organisation, The Black Superiority Party (BSP), had been gaining popularity at a meteoric pace. They promised such frankly insane and radical things to their followers Johnathan was shocked anybody took them seriously at all.

Core BSP issues were listed as things like “Outlawing further marriages between two non-black people.”, “Legal immunity of black people from any crime where the victim was white.” and “Simultaneous removal of all existing financial assistance programs, to be replaced by a scheme where any non-black woman procreating with a man of African descent would receive a healthy monthly benefit.” among other things. It was an interesting political side-show to see how drastically things had changed in the last 2 decades, and everybody, including Johnathan, wrote them off as a joke. They won the next election in an unprecedented landslide.

Just like that, Johnathan and his family were hurled into chaos. He’d spent his entire life as a stay-at-home dad and had no real job experience at age 44. For him and Rebecca, applying for jobs was a brutal experience. He only just managed to get a minimum wage position in a supermarket, but Rebecca and the kids were unable to find anything at all. Turns out upending the prior system had flooded the job market with thousands of people like Johnathan who were all now scrabbling for any cash they could get, just trying to survive. Things looked dire.

The housing market had all but collapsed in any traditional sense, with the continual stream of overwhelming majority black men entering the country now being given complete priority for homes. As such, all his kids still lived at home. Falling further and further behind on the mortgage payments, Johnathan felt backed into a corner. He couldn’t let his children be homeless. What kind of father could ever do that? It was time to do something. It might have to be something drastic.

At dinner, Johnathan paused his chewing. Ideas had been playing on his mind that would improve their situation and this might be as good a time as any to broach them. He felt a sensation in his stomach as if it were filled with rocks rather than his wife’s delicious cooking.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and there could be something you ... we, could do that should solve some of our problems. Becca if we don’t do something they’re going to take the house inside 3 months. It’s bad. Really bad. But I have an idea that should leave us with more than enough money coming in. It’s just going to be really, really hard, for us.”

“This is something I want you to understand I’d never even think about if things weren’t so insane right now.”

Rebecca rested her slender, pale fingers on his forearm. “It’s ok, let’s hear it then. If you’re being serious then I’m serious too. If it saves our family I’ll do anything I can.”

Pulling away from her, he rubbed his clean-shaven face with both hands. He felt disgusted with himself for even thinking what he was about to say. He couldn’t even bring himself to look her in the eye. Pathetic. “You know the new government has a bunch of policies where people can get extra money? Well, there’s one that would pretty much pay off our mortgage every month and leave us a bit left over. If you ... you got pregnant by a black man we would keep the house.”

The following silence lasted maybe 10 to 15 seconds but Johnathan was convinced it stretched to infinity and even further if that were at all possible.

“Ok, I’ll do it. I see what you mean. From what I’ve read that would work.” Rebecca said somberly, now seemingly also entirely unable to attempt eye contact with him.

His heart broke. The pain in his chest made him think for a second that he was having some kind of heart attack before he realised it was probably an anxiety attack. She just agreed straight away? No back-and-forth? No resistance to the idea of fucking another man at all? Johnathan felt like he’d just passed his wife a loaded gun and asked her to shoot him.

He took several deep, heaving breaths to calm himself. “That’s ... good. There’s other stuff too maybe, but that’s the only thing that will give us enough for the bank right now.”

“Right now ... I guess this isn’t something we can really wait with.” A single tear meandered its way down Rebecca’s cheek as she spoke. “How do we even go about this?”

“I see two different ways. Either you can choose a black man you like to do it for us, somebody you trust and like since it’ll be you doing ... you know ... or the BSP has a new department for people who want to get this benefit that you can call.”

“I think the second one will be easier, maybe less personal, rather than any of the guys we know.”

“Ok, that’s sensible. I think there’s a form we have to submit and then a phone call to make, but I’ve heard from other people at work that it’s really easy. We should start that in ... in a second.” Johnathan reached out and took his wife into his arms and the couple silently wept.

The following day they submitted their paperwork via email and had their phone interview scheduled with somebody from the BSP’s new “Interracial Relations Bureau” (IRB). Rebecca wasn’t sure she could cope with the conversation right now, so Johnathan told her he could handle it himself. He went down to his local pub, the recently renamed “Black Cockerel”, got a pint, and sat outside in the sunshine to wait for the call. His phone began to vibrate with the letters “IRB” on the call ID right on time.

“Ah hello there am I speaking to a mister Johnathan Williams?” a deep, heavily accented voice said from the phone.

“Yes, speaking.” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Hello Mr Williams, may I call you Johnathan? My name is Adebisi, and we’re thrilled that you’ve decided to join millions of other Caucasian people up and down the country by participating in this exciting new programme. Now ... I see you’ve already submitted your initial application paperwork, that is very good!” the voice rambled cheerily.

The application had consisted of mostly Rebecca’s physical characteristics, background and relevant medical information. They had listed her measurements as accurately as possible; 5 feet, 4 inches tall, DD breasts, measurements of her slim waist and curving hips, and additionally had to submit a front and side photo of her for reference.

“Oh my, oh my!” Adebisi said excitedly “Your wife is incredibly beautiful. Her body appears built to serve black cock.”

Johnathan sat up in shock at that statement. “Excuse me!? What did you say?”

“Forgive me sir it is a common phrase in my line of work for such lovely, curvy white women. Your wife almost resembles a fertility goddess, I imagine a lot of our employees will want to be assigned to breeding her. You must understand what I mean sir? She would have done well to begin serving us long before now.”

“Yea well, she hasn’t. She’s never even thought of being with a black guy before, just me.” Johnathan said through barely contained anger. How dare this guy talk to him like that, his wife wasn’t built to serve black men, she was a sweet woman who married and loved him.

“Very good sir.” Adebisi continued without skipping a beat “That brings me to the next and most important question which is what level would you like to enter the programme on? There is; Beginner, Intermediate, Experienced and Premium. If your wife has not previously been intimate with any black men, we strongly suggest you start at Beginner, sir.”

“What’s the difference? It’s just sex.” said Johnathan dismissively.

“It is to do with getting white women used to their new sex lives, sir. We understand this can be a shock for some white women, so the black men selected to help people such as yourself in the “Beginner” category will have penises no larger than 12 inches in length, to aid with their transition.”

Johnathan’s eyes almost popped out of his head like in an old cartoon. “12 inches!? Did I hear you right?!”

“Yes sir that is correct, if that seems too small for your wife you can of course select another category, but it is protocol for me to suggest “Beginner” to you, sir.”

Was he having a stroke? How on earth was a 12-inch dick an easy starting point? Johnathan was 5 inches on a good day, and Rebecca usually seemed pretty satisfied with their sex life. He had no clue how she was going to react to a literal footlong cock, never mind if it’d even fit inside her. He thought those kinds of dicks were the one in a million who did porn. And what would the girth be?? Even one of these beginner guys would probably ruin her. He barely acknowledged it, but that thought made his own penis twitch in his shorts, just a little bit.

“Yea ok, Beginner please.” said Johnathan, rubbing his head to try and relieve the mounting pressure around his temples.

“Very good sir, and I just require final confirmation on some of the terms of this enrollment: Do you agree to provide for, and house, the man or men sent to you by the IRB?”

“Yes.” Johnathan mumbled, growing impatient.

“Do you agree that should any Caucasian woman in your household give birth to a mixed baby fathered by the man or men sent by the IRB, you will take full legal responsibility and guardianship for said child?”

“Yes...” the look on his face had moved to a one of neutral resignation.

“And finally do you agree that yourself and your wife and indeed any Caucasian persons in your household will accommodate any and all requests, commands, orders and needs of the man or men sent to you by the IRB? And let me be clear sir, this does mean ANY commands or needs, sexual or otherwise.”

This didn’t feel right. He was selling his wife out like a farmer’s prized breeding stock. The wording of these terms worried him too, they were specifically referring to any women in his household, not just his wife. He didn’t want his daughters getting mixed up in all this. But if he didn’t do this, he wouldn’t even have a family or a household, he told himself.

“I ... yes. Yes, we’ll obey them.” he said, slouching on the bench in defeat.

“Very good sir, congratulations! We are happy to confirm your application is successful, and your assigned breeding partner or partners will be with you in a couple of days. Is there anything else I can help you or your incredibly sexy wife with today?” the agent asked gleefully.

“No, thank you Adebisi, you’ve been very helpful.” He hung up, knocked back the last of his pint and slowly shambled home nursing the knot of shame growing within his abdomen.