‘Underground’ (illicit) Pornography Studio
Willy finished scrubbing down, and made sure to rinse thoroughly, as he had been instructed. He still marveled at the spacious shower with many different shower heads on three of the walls, and up on the ceiling too. Unlike his Maw-Maw’s ghetto apartment, he didn’t have to crouch to get into the spray. The tiles on the floor outside the shower were cold under his feet, but the white towel was still warm from the dryer, and was fluffier than anything he had used before coming here.

After ensuring that he put the towel he had used in the hamper, just as the Sentinels demanded; Willy slipped on an equally as fluffy terrycloth robe, and then slipped his feet into a pair of Crocs. He then hustled to go to the dressing room, where an older (like in her thirties) White woman was waiting to apply an Afro wig, and some makeup. She seemed to be waiting patiently, but the heavyset old (fifties, well, at least forties) White man, in a snazzy suit didn’t appear to be the type who would be patient.

Willy recognized the heavyset man as the one the Sentinels called The Producer, he said, “bout time ya got here. Yer the one we’re calling Mamba? This shoot is gonna be easy. There’s no script, just say a lotta Nasty, Racist shit! She’ll be tied down and spread open for you. We made sure she’s lubricated too, so you can just shove your dick inta her tight lil’ pussy and begin fucking her. Make it look like you’re Hate Fucking her for the cameras!”

Willy swallowed, then said, “uh ... is She gonna like that? I don’t wanna get inta trubba!”

The Producer said, “Don’t worry ‘bout nuth’n but ensuring I’m happy with the product, and that you do whatever the director or I tell ya. Capiche? Melody is a Jailbait Runaway from the burbs. She was only on da streets for a coupl’a weeks, but the lil’ whore was willing to suck cock for twenty bucks, and fuck for a hundred. We kept her high on drugs while we tested her for STDs, and ... other stuff. We’ve been giving her ... pharmaceuticals to make her really horny!”

The Producer departed before Willy could ask any more questions. During the brief conversation the White woman had been making various preparations, turning on several computer monitors, and a couple of TV cameras. In the huge mirror Willy could see what was now his face, and it appeared odd to him. They had made his complexion significantly darker, not just his face, but all over his body, over the time they had been getting him fitter and healthier than he had ever been in his life. His diet had been completely changed, no more fried chicken, pork rinds, nor anything from Mickey-D’s, and he had to work out in the gym for hours a day.

The whitchy White woman wasn’t merely a make-up artist, she was a sorceress! She inserted some padded prosthesis into his mouth, he could feel them pressing against his gums; they changed the shape of his cheeks, and thus his entire face. She used some ‘Star Wars magic’ to compare his face in a TV screen to a recorded image in a computer monitor. Lines of light, like that old movie, Tron, ensured her efforts matched previous iterations. Next she applied a prosthetic brow, and then some false scars, and other cosmetics until his face was identical to their chosen image. Finally she attached an Afro wig, completing his transformation. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror, nor would have his Homies back in da Hood.

She released the padded clamps that held his neck, shoulders, and arms, so that he could hardly squirm, while she did her work. Awkwardly he thanked her; not because of the cheek implants, and false teeth, he had learned how to speak while wearing those prosthesis; Willy was obviously intimidated. She nodded, but didn’t reply as he departed from the dressing room. Out in the sterile hallway a Sentinel indicated the direction that Willy must go. Just as Willy reached the end of the hallway, a door opened into a darkened chamber.

The hallway was not brightly lit, but Willy still had to pause to allow his eyes to adjust. There were dim lights from various electronic equipment, and a multitude of television or computer monitors. It was hard to tell in the murkiness, but there were probably a dozen men, and a couple of women, most wearing headsets, and other gizmos, all concentrating on various arcane matters. Off to his right there was a bright beam of light— but Willy was distracted by a pair of hands untying the belt of his robe.