Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

By the Road

When you first see black Hercules outside on the median between two-way traffic, he's sitting out in a lawn chair shirtless, sweaty, scarred, and shoe-less. His feet are covered in dust. His 4C locs are free-formed and of various sizes, some barely hanging on. Even still, those ABS! Those ARMS! That FACE! You can fix him. Even if you can't, you just need one hour alone.

"What's your name," you ask, approaching him with a bag of McDonald's and a large drink.

"I can't tell you that. I'm being watched and if I give you that information, I could lose my job. I work in the FBI."

His body is glistening. Your eyes widen.

"You're undercover?"

You almost feel a need to pour the drink over your head. His hair is crawling down his forehead, his beard uneven with naps and gaps. Even still!

"The reptilians have infiltrated our government. They're taking away our rights and bringing a war and they want us all dead! We have to rebel! BREAK FROM THE SYSTEM!"

"Oh," you smile, slightly afraid for your life. "Okay! Well.. Do they.. Can you go places with women? Maybe in the AC?"

He looks skeptical, but follows you when you link your arm in his and guide him to your car. He smells like 10 years of bounce that ass but you have a once worn shirt for him in the backseat and you were gonna have your car detailed anyway.

"So, tell me about yourself," you glance at him as you pull across the street to the rinky-dink Subway.

"Telling you is a liability! They can be anyone. They shapeshift into any form."

He sounds like an action hero.

"I won't tell. We could reproduce and start an army of our own," you smile. He looks at you like he's considering it. You're considering some unhinged behavior considering he's literally not sane.

"We have to eat to maintain our strength for this mission," you wave for him to follow you into the rinky-dink Subway. The floors are sticky. Last time you entered a Subway, you were still a kid.

He stands behind you, eyes darting suspiciously. You pull on his arm and hang onto him, ordering for the two of you. The smell isn't as bad when you're not hotboxed in your car.

"Now," he mutters.

You look up in question.

"They're all reptilians," he whispers. "We have to kill them. Now. We have to kill them." There's a knife in his pocket.

"Nonononono," you panic, holding onto him for new reasons. "You- What if- What if the reptilians knew you'd come and tried to trick you?"

"No. The eyes. Look at their eyes."

He charges the lady behind the register in a terrifying flash. Luckily, she's not hurt. They fight him off with a broom and a mop from across the counter.

"KILL THEM," he yells as if he's holding them back. The few customers in the Subway leave quickly while they have a chance.

He's ferocious and unhinged. He's knocked over the chip display. He punches the glass display, shattering it in one punch. You pull him arm as he has a shard to a man's neck. They don't get paid enough for this.

"It's two against three! They have powers and we're just human. We need to work on our army and we'll come back, I promise!"

"Army... THAT'S RIGHT. WE'RE BUILDING AN ARMY," he announces threateningly with a slap on your ass. "I'LL COME BACK AND WIPE YOU ALL OUT."

A 6'2 buff black man threatening a skinny gay black man and two black women. What have you gotten yourself into out of thirst? He turns to you suddenly.

"Let's ride."

Relieved, you turn to leave, but he looks confused.

"No! Ride this!"

His face is serious as his dirty basketball shorts fall to his ankles. It's huge but stale and cheesy. You're gonna get a yeast infection messing with him.

"Show them you mean business," he growls, eyes wild.

Fuck it. You've had a UTI once, you didn't die. You jump into his arms and let him curl you like a dumbbell. You can taste the tartar in his mouth, but all these things can be fixed. All he needs is a shower, some toothpaste, and medication.

Dick hits different when sanity ain't in the picture. He's got your clothes twisted and half pulled away. Your bra strap is somehow between your boobs. Your jeans are under your butt, panties up with a hand-ripped hole in the crotch.

He's got no regard for your cervix or the way your limbs bend naturally, he's pulling and bending you and pushing and you're running, Your back lands on the counter and slides as you back away from his length. He's slamming it. You slide back, your ass in the Lettuce, your hand in the tuna mush. The employees are appalled.

They keep asking: "Where are the damn police!!!"

You're saving their lives. He grips your hip as you're slipping into the olives. You yell, beating his hand feeling like he's truly trying to rearrange organs.

"DON'T SURRENDER," he yells. You call him He since you don't know his name.

"I'M NOT," you wince feeling his seed release.

"AUGGGGH!"

He cums loudly. It looks like mayonnaise but you're not in the mayonnaise. You need a Plan B. This shit went too far. He sticks his dick back in and keeps thrusting as you look helplessly in apology at the staff.

Seconds later the police enter and forcibly separate you. It takes four to subdue him and you feel like a traitor the way he yells for you to help him. Both of you are being escorted out.

"I'M GONNA EAT YOUR HEART YOU BITCH! YOU KILLED ME! YOU KILLED US ALL!"

You keep your head down as you're read your rights. You're booked and then you're alone without him. He's been checked into psychiatric care, but you have committed a class one misdemeanor that gets you a year in jail. Fortunately, you're reased in 90 days. Someone paid your bail.

When you process out, you're surprised to see a stranger waiting for you to enter their vehicle. Despite not knowing them, you do.

"Hey," you say casually from the passenger seat. "Sooo.."

"Shh. They're listening. We need to meet up with Erik and get out of the country. He's waiting for you in Mexico."

"I'm sorry, who?"

"The guardian of our world. You're carrying the next generation are you not?"

You blink, wondering why you got in the car. You're only a couple blocks away from the jail.

"Actually, can you let me out? I have to pee."

He unlocks the door and you run back to the jail, finding a guard on entry. You gulp, anxious to be back and now paranoid. You're done with bad decisions. You don't care how fine the nigga.

"Can you explain to me the process of getting a restraining order?"

"You'd have to visit the police station."

"Um... Okay. Do you mind if I use a phone to call a ride?"

"HEY," the guy from the car yells suddenly from outside. You tuck your head and plead with your eyes to the guard. He lets you sit there.

A month later, you're driving to your new job. You haven't had another incident and you haven't seen Erik, thankfully. You're also not pregnant which is even better. That UTI in jail was nasty.

You see a cute black guy on the side of the road panhandling. He has a cardboard sign that mentions needing money for medical care and walks toward your vehicle since you're at the red-light. Instantly you run it. That's another fine, but you'll pay it.