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Raiford

By: stillkickin2013



PREFACE: The following is, in the most part, based on a true story of how a young man was changed from an innocent youth into a cock-loving slut in one of the most dreaded prisons at that time. Those readers who have been an inmate in the old prison at Raiford, Florida might possibly identify with some of the characters in this story and will easily agree how events as described could have, and actually did, happen.




Gene studied the monotonous landscape through the window of the van without really seeing it, his mind processing instead what was to be his future for the next three years; wondering what his destination was like; were the stories he had heard true? Could he survive? Even the thoughts of some of the things he had been told caused his stomach to knot up, the cramping seeming to get worse as the van ate up the miles, taking him closer and closer to his new home, taking him further and further away from his family, his safe life, his friends. The knotting in his guts had started the instant he had been placed in the van in the muggy, early-morning light in Fort Lauderdale, increasing in small increments as the van passed locations Gene had never visited but was aware of in the years he had grown up in Florida. . .the Everglades, Belle Glade with the fields of sugar cane lining both sides of Highway 441, the seemingly endless shore of Lake Okeechobee with small towns and fishing shacks and then nothing for miles and miles with only road signs populating the trip North.

Then there was Orlando, a city close to the size of Fort Lauderdale, but still a growing settlement in the late fifties. The highway cut through the heart of the city like it hardly existed, only pointing to nearby towns with the nunerous road signs, some towns that Gene had never heard of and some that he knew existed only by name, places like Winter Haven, Winter Park, Altamonte Springs, even Daytona. But the van wasn't heading to those places. No, the white van with the six passengers was heading towards some town named Raiford was all Gene knew, a town he had never heard of until he heard the judge pronounce that he was to serve three years in the state prison at Raiford.

Gene had barely heard or understood anything that was said after that pronouncement. The only thing he knew right then was that his life was over. No more swimming at the beach; no more movies; no dates; and definitely no pussy! Gene hadn't even heard the cry from his mother as the stern judge sentenced him for burglarizing that apartment amd stealing the sleeping couple's possessions while they slept, a crime that could have resulted in a life sentence he was later informed by a probation officer. It was only his young age of eighteen that had saved him from a harsher sentence, the man had said as he read the official sentencing document to Gene.

Five hours after leaving Fort Lauderdale, the man in the passenger seat turned and spoke through the steel screen that separated the front seats from the back and announced, "Well, boys, here's your new home for awhile. Take a good look 'cause you won't be seeing this side of the place for as long as you're here." He snickered and then leaned his head out the passenger window and spat out his tobacco juice that he had been working on for what seemed like the entire trip.

"Yeh, some of you kids may not even make it outa here alive," the driver chuckled. "This place has a lot of lifers that will love to get ahold of fresh meat like you boys."

All six of the young men in the back of the van strained to get a look out of the side and front windows, their faces mirroring their fear, a fear reinforced by the words of the driver. They had all heard the stories, stories of stabbings, of rape, of guard brutality, of 'the hole' and beatings. Gene had discounted some of the tales he had heard about the infamous prison, figuring they were just tales invented to frighten first-timers and certainly couldn't be true. But now, now that Gene could see the white stuccoed walls three stories high with dark barred windows punctuating the exterior, he wondered, questioning if the guard's words were true. Maybe?

The van stopped in front of huge gates that immediately began to slide open. Gene could see another identical gate a few feet beyond the first and beyond that gate he saw a vista that didn't strike him as such a forboding place. The brick road stretching past the second gate had large elm trees on each side and Gene could see men in what he assumed was prison clothing walking along the adjacent sidewalks, some of them engaged in conversation with others and a couple even with radios held to their ears. On the other side of the trees the same white stucco walls rose up above the trees and only the barred windows made it obvious that it was a prison.

Once the van was inside the sally port and the outside gates were closed, the tobacco-chewing guard in the front seat got out and came around the back to unlock the double doors held shut with a padlock. As he swung one door open, the portly guard, in his best redneck voice commanded, "alright, fresh meat, git your butts out and form a line by Mr. Steads ova there." He stepped back and pointed with the polished wood club in his hand towards another guard standing by what appeared to be an office.

One by one the six inmates stepped down from the van, their handcuffed wrists depriving them of any means to steady themselves. Gene was the last to step down from the van and was rewarded with the guard jabbing him in the back with his club. "Move, boy. Git yer ass ova there."

The guard named Mr. Steads removed the handcuffs from the six inmates one by one and then handed them to the van driver as he asked, "Where's the paper work on these? Who has 'em"

The driver stepped to the van and removed a clipboard that held a stack of papers. "Here they are, Steads. Got you a load of young ones this time."

Steads turned to look at the six inmates standing in a row in front of him and nodded, "Hmm, they are young, Buster. Probably send some of them to the youth center." He glanced through the papers and looked at the youth standing next to Gene. "You been here before?" he asked and referring to the top piece of paper, added, "Jenkins?"

Gene was surprised to hear the boy who appeared to be a couple of years older that he was reply, "Yeh. Yeh, I was here a year ago."

Steads gruffly responded, "Thought so. And that's 'sir' when you talk to us, boy. Got it?"

Jenkins shrugged, his face showing his contempt for the guard, his eyes appearing to defy the guard who was now standing less than six inches in front of him.

In a move too fast for either Gene or Jenkins to realize it was going to happen, Steads punched Jenkins in the stomach hard, causing the defiant youth to double up. Steads grasped the gasping boy's hair and pulled him up straight before snarling in his face, "I said that's 'sir', punk, and don't you forgit it." He let go of Jenkin's hair and turned to another guard standing at a small gate that was set in the large inner gate and ordered, "Take these boys to processing, Holmes." He handed the stack of papers to Holmes and went back into the small office.

"Sure thing," the guard named Holmes answered as he unlocked the small gate then turned to the line of new inmates. "You boys follow me in single file now. And you don't talk to any other inmates, you hear?"

Holmes led the single file of six through the gate and onto the sidewalk to the left of the brick-paved road. As soon as the column started down the sidewalk, the catcalls started, appearing to come from nowheres, but Gene surmised it was from the different cell windows in the building facing the sidewalk.

"Whoooeee! Fresh meat!"

"Tight ass! Lookat those cheeks!"

"Hey, Blondie, give me someof that head!"

One inmate seated on a bench beside the walk even pursed his lips and blew a kiss at Gene as they walked by, causing another sitting beside him on the bench to laugh in a girlish voice and then berate the kisser for his infidelity.

When the column of men reached the end of the sidewalk, Holmes stepped to the front and guided them to a barred gate and called out, "Got six new ones for processing" and a guard on the other side of the gate quickly used a large key to unlock the gate and swing it open for them to enter.

"Hmm, all young meat," the guard snickered as the six inmates passed through.

Holmes barked to the six youths, "You men stay in a line and follow me. And keep yer mouths shut. No talking, you hear?" Obviously not expecting a reply, Holmes began marching the six through a wide corridor formed by the cell block they had passed previously and what appeared to be a large cafeteria-styled building on their right, evidenced by the group's quick glimpse through large barred doors that revealed rows of steel tables with connected benches.

Gene saw several inmates that were dressed in white pants with a narrow blue strip running down the outside length. All of them appeared to be doing some task or another, but made a point of looking over the column as they passed throught the corridor to another wall of steel that was a copy of the first. Another guard unlocked the gate wordlessly and held it open as Holmes guided his flock through with a nod.

Immediately the entire atmosphere seemed to change as the group entered a long corridor with several steel doors on each side. Gene noticed each of the steel doors were painted with large black lettering identifying what layed behind the doors as "Cell Block A", "Cell Bock B", and lastly "Cell Block C". The few inmates Gene saw in the corridor were dressed in different uniforms from those he had seen before entering, their pants now blue/gray with white stripes down the outside of the legs.

Whether it was the realization that the new inmates were now "inside" or the stark surroundings, all six of them suddenly felt the depression which almost every newcomer experienced upon entering the inner prison. Even the pale green paint covering the stuccoed walls and steel gates couldn't alleviate the complete sense of impending doom--the sense that their previous lives were now a thing of the past; that their will was no longer their own, but was the property of the State of Florida. Even the smart-mouthed Jenkins had cast off his wisecracking demeanor, his face now echoing the fear and consternation showing on the youthful faces of the others.

Holmes led the silent group of six down the full length of the corridor to a steel door at the end and stood aside as he motioned his charge through the door with the order, "Line up against the wall, men, and strip. Take everything off and put 'em at your feet. Shoes, too."

Holmes then walked over to a opening placed in the opposite wall about shoulder height and handed the stack of folders through, announcing to an unseen body inside, "Here's the latest bunch, Sarge. Got six of 'em."

A overweight, belly-over-belt guard emerged through a door set beside the small window and peered at the stripping group lined up against the far wall. "Hmm, young ones, huh? What in the hell am I goin' to do with all these boys? Ain't no beds on the A3 floor."

Holmes shrugged, "Don't know, Sarge. Guess some of them will be sent to Apalachee camp over in Sneads. Others, like Jenkins here, will be fine in population." Holmes stuffed some more chew in his mouth and added, "Not my problem anyhow. I'm just delivering 'em."

"Yeh, yeh, I know," the portly sarge mumbled and then turned to the window and barked, "Backus, git yer ass out here and take care of these boys."

An inmate hustled through the open door of the small room with the window, immediately answering in a shuffling tone, "Yes, sir, yes sir. I got their bags all set up." He read the names on each of six large paper bags and handed them to the one answering the called name and then instructed, "Put your belongings in the bags, men. Anything you don't want kept for when you get outa here, just leave on the floor. Everything else will be stored."

Gene, just like most of the other six, didn't really have much to put in the bag. For his part, all that Gene had was a couple of letters and a cheap watch along with his clothes. He stuffed the items in the paper bag and held it in his arms, unsure of what he was supposed to do with it. He was soon relieved of the bag as the inmate named Backus went down the line and collected the bags, then disappeared back through the door he had earler emerged.

Within a couple of minutes, Backus re-emerged and walked up to a door at the other end of the small area. He opened the door, painted the same sickening green, and instructed, "Alright, guys, time to get that shower. Each of you go in and stand in front of one of the shower heads."

After each of them were situated in front of a shower head placed high in the wall behind them, Backus came into the room carrying a cylinder like a fire extinguisher. He stepped up to the first of the group, a frail-looking boy named Phillip, and ordered, "Put your hands and arms above your head and close you eyes. For your own good, you better not open 'til I tell you." Without another word as soon as Phillip had raised his hands, Backus raised the wand hooked to the cylinder and began to spray the youngster with a pungent, green fluid. Beginning with his head, the inmate sprayed Phillip all the way from his head to his toes and then told him to turn around where he repeated the process.

Backus went down the line of six, repeating the same process with each of them and when he was finished with the last one, advised in what appeared to be a joking tone, "Okay, now reach behind you and press that button so you can rinse off."

As soon as Gene felt the cold water hit him, he understood why Backus' voice sounded like he was joking as just about all of the six victims screamed when the icy cold water hit. Gene could hear Backus laughing as he forced himself to stand under the spray of water, making sure the smelly green slime he was coated with was rinsed away before he opened his eyes. He looked to his side at Jenkins standing next to him and asked, "What-what was that stuff?"

"Bug killer," Jenkins stuttered from the cold. "Kills lice and everything else."

After each of them were well rinsed and had dried off, another inmate, also dressed in the white uniform of a trustee, led them to another room that was set up with a camera. Each of them was photographed while standing behind a metal frame that held their individual number and then taken to a table where they were fingerprinted, much like they had been when arrested.

It seemed to Gene like he was on an assembly belt, for the next stop was another adjacent room where, after he was asked his pants size, he received three pairs of Raiford-blue pants and white boxer-style underwear that he would soon learn was way too large. Without asking his size, he was handed three long-sleeve shirts and five pairs of white socks. The last stop was where he was asked for his shoe size and then handed a pair of brown lace-up low top boots. When he asked if he could try them on, he was gruffly told to "move on". Fortunately for Gene, when he was finally able to dress, the shoes actually fit. He was to learn in later days that he was one of the lucky ones for a lot of inmates had to suffer through wearing shoes that were either too large or too small.

The final stop in the processing was standing in front of a guard in a sergeant's uniform seated at an old desk. He had several charts and lists spread out on the desk top and, after studying each of the new inmates and their accompanying record, would make a decision as to where to place them. 

A few times the sergeant would rely on a trustee standing beside him. Like in the case of the puny Phillip when he commented, "He won't last a day in population, Sarge. Better send him to Apalachee." The trustee must have carried some weight with the sergeant, as apparently Phillip was temporarily assigned to an area called A3, which Gene learned was a floor that housed the youngest inmates that might be abused.

When Jenkins stood in front of the sergeant, he was greeted with a shaking head from the man. "Ain't you learned nuthin, Jenkins? How long since you got outta here?"

"Bout eight months, Sarge. I was set up."

"Yeh, yeh," the sergeant sneered. "Just like the last time, huh?" He looked at one of the charts and declared, "Putting you back where you were, then. With your old friends in 'B' block. Now get yer ass outta here. You don't need anyone to guide you."

When Gene got to the desk, the trustee leaned over and whispered into the sergeant's ear. Gene couldn't hear what was said, but had a sense of dread as the Sarge looked up at him and seemed to be analyzing the blond youth standing nervously as though he was awaiting his fate. Little did Gene know, but that was exactly what he was facing, for the Sarge's decision was one that determined Gene's fate for the rest of his life. One final look at Gene and then a raised eyebrow at his trustee and the segeant pronounced, "Cell block "C" for you." He studied a list and added, "C-3-8". Looking at his trustee, the sergeant ordered, "You can show him where, Adam. And git right back here, you hear?"

Adam grinned, "Sure thing, Sarge." He motioned with his thumb to Gene and said, "Follow me, Gene. And you better stay close if you wanna stay safe."

Gene followed in Adam's footsteps, almost having to jog to stay up with the fast moving trustee. While they hurried back down the corridor heading in the direction of the sally port where Gene had entered over an hour earlier, Gene studied the dark-haired, middle-aged Adam, curious about the man's many tattoos and his confident stride, the way he was greeted by several inmates with respect almost as if he was one of the guards.

After they had entered throught the steel door marked 'Cell Block C', Adam guided Gene up three flights of stairs to a floor plainly marked '3' and then down a very narrow walkway with cells on the left side and a solid wall with interspersed barred windows on the right side, through which he could see another cell block paralleling Block C. Each of the cells were made with a solid wall of steel bars with a sliding barred door facing the walkway. Gene could see a double bunk against one wall of the cell with a combination sink and toilet on the wall at the opposite end of the cell. The walls were painted the same sickening green that he had seen throughout the prison and Gene wondered if they had received a huge discount on that paint.

Midway down the walkway, Adam stopped in front of a cell that had the numeral '8' painted in black above the door. "Here you are, Gene. Your new home." He looked down the walkway and called out "Open number eight, boss." Gene hadn't seen the guard at the beginning of the walkway, but now he saw someone in a guard's uniform unlock the steel cabinet and pull down a lever, causing the door to cell number eight to slide open noisily.

Adam motioned to Gene to enter and then followed him. "Looks like the top bunk is your's, Gene, so put your stuff up there." He watched as Gene did as suggested, and then asked, "How much time you got?"

"Uh, three years. I was told I might have to only do one, though." Gene looked at Adam as the inmate lit a cigarette and asked, "How about you? Been here long?"

"Me? Shit, I got life, so I'll be here awhile. Done five already."

Gene was shocked by Adam's revelation. He had heard of lifers, but didn't think they would be with other inmates because the jail talk always made lifers appear to be dangerous people. "Life? Wh-what for? I mean, what did you do?"

Adam stepped up to Gene and in a conspiratorial manner, put one hand on Gene's shoulder, gripping it hard, "Piece of advice, kid. Don't, and I mean really DON'T ask another inmate what they're in here for. If they want you to know, they'll tell you. You could get shanked for asking that."


Raiford



Adam's advice frightened Gene and he stammered, "I-I, I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean anything! J-Just curious, was all."

"Forget it, kid. You've got a lot to learn. It's a lot different in here than it is in a jail cell. A lot of guys in here have nothing to lose and will cut your throat in a heartbeat if you don't watch it."

Gene changed the subject, being careful to not appear too nosy. "Uh, what, what's the guy that I'm rooming with like? You think he'll like me?"

Adam grinned, "Oh, yeh, he'll like you, kid. He sure will. He's a lifer, too, and he's been here longer than I have. The two of us are real tight and I'll put in a good word for you. One other piece of advice, though. . .don't do anything to piss him off. Best to just do anything he says and you'll get along fine."

Gene had missed the emphasis that Adam had placed on his answer to his question, but he quickly understood Adam's advice and nodded, "Oh, okay, I'll be careful to not say or do anything that will make him mad at me. Thanks for the advice."

"No problem, kid. Now I better get back to the office before the sarge comes looking for me. Go ahead and make up your bunk but you oughta stick around here 'till later and you get to know your way around. Mack will be in near chow time and I'm sure he'll take care of you."

"Mack? Who's Mack?"

"Your roomy, kid, your roomy." Adam answered while thinking that Gene would find out soon enough that Mack would be more than just Gene's 'roomy'---much more. Gene's slightly feminine appearance had tempted Adam from the moment he had seen him in the processing center, but he had decided that he would let his old friend take care of the real prison processing so he had talked the sarge into assigning the young newcomer to his buddy's cell. Adam knew that Mack would reward him for providing such a fresh youngster for his pleasure and he grinned with satisfaction as he turned and made his way back down the walkway.

Gene set about making up his bunk and was very careful when he had to step on the side of the bottom bunk to tuck in the rough sheets. After he was finished making the bunk, he examined the contents of the small cell, taking a lot of interest in a couple of photos that were taped to the wall over the bottom bunk. One photo showed a tall tatooed man with long hair standing next to a very pretty girl dressed in cut-off shorts and a halter. The man had one arm draped over the girl's shoulder with his hand cupping one of her breasts. His other arm was stretched out displaying a one-finger salute to the camera. The girl's nearly-bare body made Gene think of his girlfriend and the last time he had cupped her breasts and enjoyed her body. That memory morphed into another thought and a deep sadness enveloped Gene; he wondered what she was doing now; would she wait for him?; and is some other lucky guy playing with her breasts now.

Gene had to tear himself away from studying the photo and continue his survey of the six by eight metal box. At the foot of the bunks were two steel cabinets with doors. One of the cabinet doors was open, revealing two empty shelves coated with dust. The other cabinet door was padlocked with a large brass combination lock. Gene knew that cabinet must belong to his roomate, so he picked up the clothing off of his bunk and stuffed the few articles on the two shelves, using damp toilet paper to wipe up some of the dust first.

Just as he had placed the last of his meager belongings in the locker, Gene detected an increase in the noise level in the cell block and at almost the same instance, the cell door began to slide into the open position along with all of the other doors in the cell block. Gene wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he decided he better wait before going out the open door. As there wasn't a place for him to sit except on his own bunk or, God forbid, his unknown cell mate's bunk, Gene just stood in the back of the cell nervously and watched the parade of men walk by the cell. Most of those passing seemed to be oblivious to Gene's presence, but a few paused and studied the newcomer to the block with curiosity, a couple even making remarks like "new meat" or "Mac's gal" before moving on to their own cell.

Gene's apprehension grew when he heard those remarks, remembering some of the stories he had heard, complete with details of what happened to young guys like himself and terms like "gal-boys" and "bitches". The term that one of the passers-by had made about "Mac's gal" really upset Gene. "Why would they think that?', he wondered silently. He definitely didn't think of himself as gay or effeminate, despite his youthful complexion and golden blonde hair, full lips, pale blue eyes and tanned skin. No, Gene wasn't a "gal"---he was a MAN and he wasn't going to let anyone treat him as anyone"s "gal".

Just as Gene finished those thoughts of bravado, a grizzly, gruff older man, covered wtih jail house tatoos entered the cell. He stopped just inside the door and studied Gene with a malevolent look before rasping, "You my new roomy, boy?"

Gene instantly felt fear from both the man's voice and appearance and only was able to quietly stammer, "Y-yes sir. Yes."

Mac sat on his bunk and fished a cigarette out of a pack he kept in the rolled up sleeve of his shirt while he studied the youth who appeared almost cowered in the back of the cell. After he had lit the cigarette and released a flume of smoke in Gene's direction, Mac queried, "What do they call you, kid?"

"Uh, Gene, sir. Gene."

"Hmm, Jean, huh," Mac grinned. "I like that. Kinda like I dream of Jeannie from that TV show."

Gene realized the gruff older man he judged to be in his forties had misunderstood his name, substituting 'Jean' instead of 'Gene' and he hesitantly corrected, "T-that's Gene with a 'G', sir. Not like the girl on that show."

Mac blew more smoke in Gene's direction, "Whatever. I like the girl's name, so it's with a 'J' as far as I'm concerned." He swung his feet around on the bed and layed back before warning, "And I'm not a 'sir', Jeannie. And I better not hear that outta your bitch mouth again. Hear?"

The man's sudden vicious warning surprised and shocked Gene and he visibly seemed to cower further in the older man's presence as he answered, "Y-Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. J-just that you're an adult and, and that's how I was raised."

Mac's face softened barely as he scooted his legs over towards the wall and patted the bunk, "Okay, kid. Just that you save 'sir' for the guards and I'm sure as hell not a guard. Now, have a seat. No since you standing."

Gene was relieved by the man's change of tone and gratefully accepted the offer to sit on the bunk beside him. "I see, M-Mac. I have a lot to learn. I've never been in a prison before."

"Thought so," Mac puffed his cancer stick. "But you'll learn, and I'm going to teach you. Just do as I say and you'll be okay in here." Gene didn't notice Mac's right hand cup the older man's crotch as he said those words, revealing the old con's real meaning behind his offer.

"So, whatcha in for, kid?"

"Burglary," Gene confessed and then quickly added, "But I didn't do it. Honest. It was the guy I was hanging out with."

"Yeh, yeh," Mac chuckled. "They all say that. I didn't blow a guy's brains out, either. Twas the gun that did it."

Gene's eyes widened, "Y-you killed someone, Mac? Really?"

"That's what the jury said, Jeannie. Said it was cold blood, too." Mac took a deep draw of the shortening cigarette and bent one knee to come in contact with Gene's back, letting it slide down from the middle of this back to the top of his bubble-like butt, grinning evilly when the youth didn't move or object.

"Is that why you got life, S--Mac?"

Mac caught the youth's near-mistake with using 'sir', but said nothing. "Yeh, that's what they gave me, kid. Means I'll have to do probably at least ten years before I get out of here. Coulda been worse, but they did away with the death penalty in this state."

Gene's amazement with his cell mate increased as he had never met a murderer before. One with a life sentence, too! He had felt the older con's knee rubbing his back but rather than being disturbed over the contact, he felt a degree of closeness with the man who he now felt was somewhat like a father-figure, like the father he had lost when he was only ten years old. And Gene didn't get alarmed when Mac put out his cigarette by throwning it in the toilet, making an arc in front of Gene's face as it was flicked by Mac's fingers to make a dead-center landing in the metal bowl, then placed the same hand possessively on Gene's mid thigh.

Mac began to feel an erection forming as his supposedly innocent touching of the youth was going without protest or resistance and he grinned inwardly at how easy it was going to be to seduce the highly desirable boy. His friend Adam had already filled him in with the details of Gene's prison sentence and the two of them had discussed in detail how they would proceed with his seduction and conversion to be used for their own pleasures. Mac had assured Adam that he would benefit equally with himself in using what could easily be considered as possibly the best-looking youth they had the chance to encounter inside the cold walls of Raiford.

Gene was surprised as well as scared when Mac put his hot hand on his leg. He knew the moves because he had pretty much made the same moves on girls he had managed to seduce...gentle, innocent, touches in places that were not considered sexual and therefore would not elicit rejection. Then the touch would become more bold and possibly relaxing but still generating some arousal in the intended victim. No hurry, no insistence, completely innocent while waiting for the signal that it was okay to go further but never rushing the seduction. Yes, Gene knew the moves and it frightened him. For the first time in his near-adult life, he wondered..."did the girls he had seduced feel the same way when he put the moves on them? Were they frightened?"

Gene cast those thoughts aside as he realized that what he had done with girls was entirely different than what he was apparently facing. Those girls were never in any danger other than possibly losing their virginity, if they still had it, whereas what he was quite possibly facing was death at the hands of a convicted murderer. That thought was utmost in Gene's mind as he felt Mac's hand squeeze the middle of his thigh and then lightly caress the youthful leg through the rough prison garb.

Gene's seduction was abruptly halted when he heard an authoritarian voice yell "Count time. Get yer asses up." Mac immediately removed his hand from Gene's leg and swung his legs around so he could stand up, motioning to Gene to join him at the door. Gene had just joined his cellmate at the door when an overweight guard holding a clipboard stopped in front of them. Looking at the paper on the clipboard he barked, "Lewis?"

Mac quickly answered, "73560, Sarge."

The sergeant looked again at his clipboard and then at Gene, noticing his youthfulness compared to his cellmate. He grinned knowingly and pointedly remarked to Mac, "Gotcha a new one, huh? Cute, too, Lewis." He then turned his attention back to Gene, "Number, boy? Uh, Brown?"

Gene searched his memory, his eyes seeming to roll back in his head as he tried desperately to remember the number he was given when he was processed. He was relieved when Mac punched the numbers on his chest with his forefinger while he recited the numbers to the grinning sergeant. "86541, Sarge."

"Better learn that number, boy," Sarge advised with a scowl as he made a mark on the clipboard and headed to the next cell.

As soon as the sergeant had moved on, Mac sat back down on the bunk and lit up another cigarette. Gene came to stand a little in front of him and murmured, "Thanks, Mac. I-I couldn't remember my number. I didn't think about it being on my shirt."

Mac shrugged as he released a plume of stinky smoke, "No big deal, Jeannie. Takes awhile to remember, but you'll get it. Sarge was just having fun with you."

"What, what's next, Mac? Do we get to eat pretty soon? I'm starving."

"As soon as the count is over and they check it to make sure none of us birds have flown the coup." Mac studied Gene through the heavy smoke encirgling his head and advised, "You stick with me when we get to the chow hall. No one will mess with you while you're with me."

Gene's blue eyes widened, "You mean, is it safe for me? Someone going to cut me or something?"

Mac hunched his shoulders, "Never know, kid. Some of these guys in here would stick a shank in you just for the fun of it. That or they might plan to rob you. Anything."

Gene couldn't help shivering at the thought. The three months he had spent in jail while awaiting trial was in the juvenile section of the Broward County jail where he was the oldest. One of the jailers had told him the only reason he wasn't in the older male section was because he didn't look his age and would be bait for some of the older inmates. He looked with gratitude at Mac and sincerely spoke, "Thanks, Mac. Thank you. I'll stick with you because I sure don't want to get stuck with a knife or anything. I appreciate you looking out for me."

Mac dismissed Gene's thanks with a wave of his hand as he was thinking how Gene would be repaying him for his protection--and soon, "Maybe tonight," he grinned to himself as he felt the twitch in his pants.

Just then the cell doors slid open and a voice shouted, "Chow time, Chow. Come get it piggies."

Gene started to head to the door but was halted by Mac when he stood up and stuck a stiff arm out in front of Gene. "Wait 'til the crowd gets out, kid. You won't be in such a hurry when you see the slop they're feeding."

Mac's prophetic words were right on target Gene learned when they finally reached the steam tables. He hadn't ever been a fan of blackeyed peas and dynamited chicken and when he saw how the evening's fair looked on the large steam pans, he completely lost his appetite. Still, Gene let the servers throw the instant potatoes and slice of bread on his metal tray as he made his way down the chow line, thinking that at least he would be able to eat those two items. At the end of the steam tables he was served what Mac had called apple crisp and a cup of so-called ice tea. He was surprised at how many of the servers and other inmates in line knew Mac and was obvious in their show of respect for the seasoned inmate, even extending the same respect to his young companion, although more than a few studied Gene with a lot of interest, a couple even pursing their lips in blown kisses. One quickly averted his eyes when Mac scowled at him.

The two of them headed towards a table in the very back of the massive dining hall that only had three other inmates, although most of the other tables in the hall were filled with hungry men. As they approached the table, Gene could see that all three of the men at the table looked very similar to Mac and were probably the same age. Oddly enough, each of them sported prison tattoos and had that same hardened appearance. They greeted Mac in unison when he got to the table and stared at Gene with curiosity as well as appreciation.

"Hey, Mac. This your new one?" one particularly grizzed bear of a man greeted even as he shoveled another spoon of peas into his bearded mouth.

"Yeh, Rod. This here's Jeannie. Came in today."

"Th-that's Gene with a 'G'," Gene hoarsely announced.

Mac stared at Gene with fire in his eyes, "Jeannie to me, kid. I say you're 'Jeannie'."

Gene picked up on the sudden undercurrent around the table at Mac's harsh correction to his 'kid', and quietly bowed his head in acquiescence while spooning the runny potates on his tray. He relaxed when Mac put an arm around his shoulders and appeased, "S'okay, kid, as long as you know your place." Then he looked at the three men at the table one after another and pointedly instructed, "And I expect each of you guys to look after Jennie when I'm not around. Got that?"

All three nodded their heads in unison, obviously understanding that it was not a request coming from Mac, but orders--orders not to be forgotten. Gene could even sense some fear coming from what appeared to be some pretty dangerous men. It was either fear or respect, but Gene knew that these three would definitely look out for him and he had to look at Mac with renewed respect and appreciation.

"So, is Karl still in the hole?" Mac questioned the table.

"Uh-huh, that crazy German is still there. Heard that he decked the Captain when they were putting him in there," one of the men sitting across from Gene he later learned was called Tony answered. "That kraut never will learn."

"That right, Preacher?" Mac asked as he pointed his spoon at the man sitting at the end of the table.

Preacher shrugged, "That's what I heard, Mac. I guess he was just trying to give the Captain a dose of religion." Everyone laughed at Preacher's explanation, including Gene, although he had no idea what the man was talking about.

Mac put a hand on Gene's knee and informed him, "Preacher there is no preacher, Jennie, so don't take him serious."

"Uh, why's he called 'Preacher', then?" Gene asked innocently.

"Cause I killed a lousy sonofabitching motherfucker preacher for screwing my wife," Preacher answered for Mac.

All of the men at the table nodded their heads in agreement and the one named Rod added, "And he shoulda fucked him in the ass first. Ain't that what he was doing to your wife, Preacher?"

"Yeh, sorry sonofabitching motherfucker. And what made me mad was that she never let me put it in her Hershey hole!"

That closing remark was met with laughter as all of them began to get up from the table. Immediately a slender inmate just a couple of years older than Gene rushed to the table and announced, "I'll clean up for you, Mac. Is that okay?"

"Sure, sure, Weasle. You keep doing your job. Any one mess with you lately?"

"No, no, Mac. Not since you took care of them. They're scared of me now."

"They better be," Mac remarked with steely eyes as he guided Gene somewhat possessively from the chow hall.

After they left the chow hall, Mac took Gene out to the exercise yard and introduced him to several of his friends, although Gene had more of a feeling that for some reason Mac was more showing him off than just giving him a chance to meet some of the other inmates in his crowd. Either way, it did give Gene a sense of comfort and ease some of his fears as he began to see the influence his cell mate seemed to have in the prison. He had noticed that the majority of inmates were either grouped together in different bands or engaged in one activity or another while a few apparent loners just walked the perimeter of the field either singularly or in two's or three's. Mac pointed out some individuals who he warned to stay away from, some who were just plain 'crazies' and some who were nothing but trouble.

Gene studied in wonderment the layout of the exercise yard with the guard towers spaced intermittently around the perimeter fences and the razor wire on top of what appeared to be at least twelve feet of chain link fence. Two sides of the prison buildings formed an angle of the field and the perimeter fence was an arc that met the ends of the buildings. He could never see how anyone could possibly escape from such a foreboding place although Mac had told him that a few men had managed to make it out of there. Most of the escapees were pretty quickly captured, but there had been a few who had remained at large for months and even years.

"But don't even think about it," Mac advised. "Those guards will shoot anyone that even look like they'll try for the fence."

"Don't worry I won't," Gene replied as he looked at the closest tower where he saw a guard with what appeared to be a rifle walking around the catwalk at the top of the tower.




Raiford



The two men walked around the yard for another half-hour when Mac suggested, "We better go on in and hit the showers before they close the yard. It'll be pretty crowded in there then."

Gene was already feeling the effect of the hot and humid air that was very typical of that area of North Florida and he readily agree, "Yeh, I'm ready for a nice cold shower. Haven't had one since we left the jail."

Mac laughed, "Well, that's all you're going to get here 'cause the water in the showers rarely gets hot. 'Bout as bad as the showers on the yard--ice cold."

Gene was surprised as Mac got ready for the showers once they reached the cell when he stripped down completely, standing completely nude there in the cell while he collected the stuff his soap and towel. Gene couldn't help but see the older man's cock as Mac stood there waiting for Gene to get ready. Mac's manhood was BIG, even in it's relaxed state and right on the upper side of the wrinkled skin was another tattoo--a crudely drawn cross. Gene's attention was abruptly halted when he heard Mac clear his throat loudly. "Mm-hmm. Whatcha looking at Gene?" and then merely wrapped a large towel around his midsection while he slipped his feet into a pair of sandals.

With a face that had turned beet red, Gene apologized. "S-Sorry. I-I never saw one with a tattoo. That must have hurt."

"Nah. Just made me lose the erection when the needle stuck it," Mac laughed as he pointedly stared at Gene's small equipment before the youth had a chance to wrap his prison-furnished towel around his waist.

As Mac started to lead the two of them out of the cell, he noticed that Gene was in his bare feet and asked, "Doncha have any slippers, kid?"

Gene looked down at his bare feet as though he was verifying Mac's observation, "No. They didn't give me anything but those clod hopper shoes to wear."

Mac shook his head and then reached under his mattress and withdrew a pair of warnflip-flops then handed them to Gene. "Here, you can use these, Jeannie. No telling what you might step on in that shower."

"Gee, thanks, Mac. I'll try to pay you back."

With a wave as though to say "Forget it," Mac led the way out with Gene close on his heels. They made their way down the narrow catwalk towards the far end of the cell block and entered a space about the size of four cells with shower heads placed on two opposite walls. Gene noticed that all but four of the at least twelve showers were occupied, so he understood what Mac had meant about the showers being crowded.

None of the eight men using showers seemed to notice the two newcomers enter at first until one inmate with a closely-shaven head happened to turn and look at Mac and Gene enter. When Gene took off his towel with some embarrassment and placed it on top of the divider wall like Mac had done, the inmate who had first seen the two let out a low whistle and punched the guy standing next to him on the arm as he motioned with his head. "Jeb, willya look at that?"

That was when all but one of the eight showering turned to look, but made no sound when they saw who the pretty newcomer was with. Mac's mean glare even caused the one who had spoken to quickly turn back to the shower and pretend he hadn't said a word. Three of the men evenly managed to murmer a 'hello' to Mac before getting back to washing. One, a grizzled older inmate with a full beard croaked, "New cellie, Mac?"

"Yeah, Stony. This here's Jeannie. Got here today."

Gene bit his lip, fearful of arousing Mac's ire, and didn't try to correct Mac on the pronunciation, even accepting the snicker he heard emanate from the skin head who didn't dare to turn and face the duo. Once again, Gene was impressed by the tear and respect given to his cellmate although it made him wonder exactly why all of the other inmates walked on eggs around Mac. It wasn't like he was incredibly large, or muscled, or even carried a weapon. But still, all the other inmates seemed to really be afraid of the man and that added to Gene's own fear and respect of his cell mate.

As they showered, Gene heard the broadcast announcing that the yard was closed added with a further announcement that there was only thirty minutes to count time. He noticed all of those still showering rush to finish and he imitated Mac's movements, quickly washing his head and rinsing himself off before reaching for his towel. Gene didn't see how Mac had stood as he dried and stared at the pronounced whiteness of Gene's buttocks, enjoying the swell of the youth's ass forming an inviting crevice that was lightly covered with a downy layer of blonde, almost invisilble hair. Same with Gene's miniscule dick--not a cock yet--but a boy's dick, crowned with a small curly bush of brown/blonde hair. Mac's eyes traveled up and down the small lithe frame fully appreciating the small muscular, the narrow waist leading to a flat, white belly, and then the hairless chest accentuated only with quarter-sized breasts, surprising full nipples for even a boy as young as Gene.

The thought of sucking on those nips made Mac's cock twitch and he quickly averted his attention as he turned to drying his feet. "Don't want to scare him off," Mac thought to himself even as he stole another glance at Gene's body until it was carefully wrapped in the too-short towel. "Hell, even his feet are pretty," Mac mumbled and then caused another cock-twitch as he thought of having the boy's feet on his shoulders as he pummeled that tight ass. "Whew!" Mac finally spoke aloud. "I gotta stop that shit!"

"What, Mac? What's wrong?" Gene innocently asked as he put his feet into the borrowed flip-flops.

"Ah, nothing," Mac answered as he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, hiding the emerging strength of his manhood. "Just gotta get outta this steamy shower." As quick as he slipped his sandals on his feet he motioned to Gene to follow,"Better get to the cell while we can."

Not long after the two men got back to their cell, the announcement blared over the speakers, "Count time. Everyone report to their cells immediately. I repeat, COUNT TIME! IN YOUR CELLS!"

Within a minute the cell doors rattled and then began to slide closed, causing a few inmates to rush to slip into their respective cells before being trapped outside on the catwalk. Mac and Gene stood at the required stance in front of the door as they listened to the guard going from cell to cell calling out occupant's names followed by the inmate's response with their numbers. 

Unlike Gene's first flub earlier that day, he answered correctly when his name was called and after Mac had given his number, the guard leaned forward with his mouth near the openings in the bars and conspiratorially whispered to Mac, "You got the stuff I asked for, Mac?"

"Sure, sure, boss. You know I ain't going to let you down. When you come back after the count, I'll have it ready for you."

After the guard went on with his count, Mac went to his locker and withdrew a toothbrush. Gene was surprised as he watched his cellmate step up on the toilet and with what was definitely the sharpened end of the brush, pry loose the polished stainless steel plate that served as a mirror from the cinder block wall. He then slipped a hand behind the plate into what Gene could see was a hollowed-out part of the block and pulled out a small plastic bag. Gene could make out what appeared to be a small handful of white powder wrapped up in the bag and he quickly turned his head as Mac replaced the mirror and stepped down from the toilet.

The guard hardly slowed in his march back down the catwalk, merely reaching out with his hand and palming the bag which Mac held. Mac turned to Gene and warned, "You didn't see nothing! Got that?"

Gene stuttered, frightened by not only Mac's tone of voice, but also the menacing look he was giving. "N-N-No, I, I didn't see anything. N-N, sir."

"Watch that 'sir' shit, kid. Just remember you saw nothing."

Gene nodded his acquiescence and nervously fidgeted around the cell, not sure what he was supposed to do. Just as quickly as Mac's demeanor had changed, it changed again as he stepped up to Gene and put a fatherly hand around his shoulders. "You're okay, Jeannie. You're okay. Now, whatcha want to do until the lights are turned out? Dominoes? Cards? Or do you just want to read?"

Gene shrugged, comforted by Mac's approval, "I dunno. What do you usually do? I mean...I don't have anything to read and I haven't ever played dominoes."

"How 'bout cards? You play gin?"

"Well, some. I played 'em in the jail. We didn't have anything else to do there."

"Good. We'll do that then until the lights go out." Mac pulled a worn deck of cards out of his locker and sat on his bed with his back to the bars and motioned for Gene to sit on the other end. He immediately began to shuffle the cards somewhat expertly and then dealt them both ten cards and placed the last card face up beside the remainder of the deck.

"Let's make it interesting," Mac suggested as he picked up his cards and arranged them in a fan shape facing himself before continuing, "Say, maybe a dollar a game or something like that."

"Uh, I don't have any money, Mac," Gene gulped embarrassingly. "My family wouldn't give me any."

Mac grinned, happy that the youngster was broke. "That's okay, Jeannie. I'll pay cash and you can pay in services."

Gene looked puzzled as he questioned, "Services? Wh-what can I do? What kind of services?"

Mac shrugged, "Ah, nothing much. Could be something like making the bunks, cleaning the cell, fetching me something from the canteen or. . .maybe even a back rub or something to make me feel good." He studied the innocent youth for a few seconds and prompted, "How's that? That be okay?"

"I-I guess. Just don't seem fair to you, though. I mean...I'd be willing to do those things for you anyway, Mac. I'll keep the cell clean just 'cause I like it that way. And I'll make your bunk if you want."

Mac couldn't believe how easy his seduction of this girl-like boy was going to be. How did he get so lucky? He felt his dick twitch in his white boxers with the knowledge that the youth sitting across from him would soon be his sex slave. He began the game with relish and in no time was able to make his first declaration of "gin" and begin another hand.

Over the next three hours Mac had easily decimated Gene's card play and he only threw one game to give his opponent some hope and keep him playing. By the time the call for 'lights out' came, Mac owed Gene one dollar, but Gene owed Mac the equivalent in 'services' of ten dollars. Not much in the 'free world', but in prison it can be enough to have someone killed and when Mac stated the final score, Gene was fully aware of his debt and knew just what it meant in prison terms.

While Mac put the cards away Gene busied himself at the sink brushing his teeth and when he was finished, he turned to Mac with the full intention of climbing up to his bunk and promised, "I'll clean the cell in the morning and make your bunk, Mac. I know that's not much--certainly not ten dollars worth, but I can pay up over time."

Mac stopped Gene just as the youth was ready to put a foot on his bunk and climb up. "Hold it, Jeannie, hold it." He rose from his bunk and, with a firm hand on one of Gene's shoulders, pushed him down to sit on his bunk. Standing in front of the sitting Gene, he made the too-obvious statement, "You'll never pay it off that way, kid. Not even with any of the other services." Dropping his shorts and stepping out of them, Mac added, "But there's one service that can pay it off in full," as he stepped forward with his erect cock just inches from Gene's face.

Even in the dark Gene could make out the whiteness of Mac's belly and the glistening of moisture on the end of the proffered meat and he quickly jerked back onto his elbows pleading, "I-I don't do that, Mac. I'll p-pay you off some other way."

"What's matter, Jeannie? You never sucked a cock before?"

"N-No! I, I don't do that! It's, it's queer and I'm not a homo."

"Bullshit, kid. You're too pretty to not ever have done it. Besides, you owe me and you'll pay up if you know what's good for you." Mac reached out and pulled Gene back into a sitting position with a strong grip on his shoulder. When Gene turned his head with a shake and a mumbling "no, no", Mac turned to persuasion "C'mon, Jeannie, "It's just like sucking your Mommie's tit. Don't tell me you never did that."

"That's different!" Gene cried. "I can't do that. I'll gag and throw up."

Mac's loins were tiring of the struggle. He had built up too much of an urge in the hours he had spent with Gene and he wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer so he reached out and gripped Gene's head and forced him to turn so that the boy's lips were inches from his throbbing cock. Mac then growled, "You're going to suck it, bitch, or you won't live to see the morning. Get it in your head that you belong to me and the state now and you do what we tell you." With that declaration, Mac pulled Gene's head toward him so that his cock struck the youth's lips. The feel of those soft, full lips touching his bulbous head was enough for Mac to forcefully push the dripping head past the closed lips as Gene realized that he had no choice but to do what the stronger, more dangerous man wanted. That, or die possibly.

Once Mac's cockhead had penetrated Gene's oral opening and the now-submissive boy realized that he was going to have to suck his first cock, he focused instead on quickly finishing the task, using his tongue to further excite the ever-hardening member as it penetrated further. In doing so, Gene found that it wasn't as bad as he though. The flesh tasted clean, still fresh from the earlier shower, and something about the phenonmenon of the surface feeling so soft but at the same time so firm on his palate excited Gene. He suddenly realized why the few girls and even fewer men who enjoyed sucking his dick really enjoyed it and often asked to suck his. 

Then, when he detected Mac's increased breathing and quiet moans of pleasure, Gene felt a sudden power--the power of controlling another person's sexual emotion. He found that when he slowed the movement of his tongue or bodding of his head, Mac's whole body responded with a need, a need for him to continue. Then Gene learned that if he used his tongue to stroke the rubbery head or increased the speed of his bodding, Mac's breathing became more labored and he hurt him grunt his pleasure. Gene became a student of how to control this man who had made him submit to his perverted desire and he began to use it to the maximum. Inside of five minutes since Mac had forced his cock inside Gene's mouth, he suddenly gripped the boy's head in both hands and plunged his cock as far as he could into Gene's mouth, causing the youth to gurgle his objection, and then erupted explosion after explosion of sticky, slightly salty cum to coat the opening of the deflowered throat.

Gene surprised himself when, many seconds after the last blast of juice from the softening cock into his mouth, Mac started to withdraw the spent member, Gene's mouth followed it as though he didn't want to let the meat exit his mouth. No, not now. Now that he had experienced what turned out to be the most ultimate sex act he had ever had--not really the sex itself, but the belonging to the being who possessed such a magnificent toy and Gene now understood that he did indeed belong to Mac for he had served as his woman, his wife, his girl, even his slave.

Mac finally pushed Gene's head off of his spent cock, stroking the boy's cheek as he pushed. "Wow! You're a natural, Jeannie. Don't know why you resisted, but once you got started, you were terrific. Gotta learn a few tricks, but in no time you're going to be the best damn gal-boy in the rock."

Mac's words of praise elated Gene despite the fact that he had in reality been forced to suck the older man's cock--something he would have never thought he could or would do. Gene had always derided men who sucked cocks as 'queers' or 'faggots' and now he realized that he had done the very same thing as those he had despised. Also, he now realized that it wasn't so bad after all. Fact is, Gene had actually started to enjoy the act; thrilling in the power and the belonging he had felt as he was able to manipulate another man. And there was something very erotic in the taste and feel of another man's penis in his mouth, the rush of desire as he tasted the slightly bitter and hot ejaculate. Gene said nothing in reply to Mac's praise, but knew in his heart that he would not resist this man, this benefactor, the next time he wanted to use his mouth.

*****************************

Over the next several days and nights, Mac used Gene's mouth over and over, gradually indoctrinating the youth into a life of being another man's cum slut, teaching him how to use his tongue to further excite his rigid meat, how to roll his nuts in his mouth and how to deep throat without gagging. Gene not only did not resist Mac's urges any longer, but began to want his cock in his mouth, to taste his juices, to please this man who became more like a lover or possibly a father figure. Mac was almost insatiable in his need, having Gene suck his cock and swallow his cum at will, often taking advantage of the young mouth at the oddest places whenever the mood struck the older man. Gene's cocksucking became almost a pasttime, a sport, servicing Mac without complaint or hesitation whether it be on the yard in front of others or in the shower; waking the sleeping boy in the middle of the night for a blow job; once in the prison library while he knelt under a desk while Mac read a magazine.

Mac bided his time, happily accepting the oral sex from the good-looking youngster, knowing that in time he would be able to change Gene into his prison wife, his complete sex slave. The next step in Gene's transformation came unexpectedly to Mac when they entered the shower room after a particularly hot and sweaty day. The two of them had just stepped past the dividing wall when Gene stopped in his tracks, mesmerized by a scene in front of him, for there stood a couple of inmates he knew by the names of 'Bobbie' and Bubba. But they weren't just standing there, for 'Bobbie' was bent at the waist with his legs spread wide while he braced himself with both outstretched hands against the shower wall while Bubba pounded his ass with the biggest cock that Gene had ever seen. Bubba was gripping Bobbie's hips with both hands and was slamming the pale cheeks back and forth against himself while Bobbie was moaning and pleading for Bubba to 'go faster, harder', blubbering how much he loved Bubba's big cock.

Bubba merely looked at Mac and Gene and grinned, "Man, this bitch is tight!" He looked appraisingly at Gene and then asked Mac while he continued to pound Bobbie, "Your bitch take it in the butt, Mac?"

Mac laughed and shook his head while he stepped up to a shower and pressed the button, "Not yet, but she sure sucks good."

Gene finally forced himself to stop watching the copulating couple long enough to step up to the shower next to Mac and begin bathing, but still sneaking looks over his shoulder at the scene behind them. He couldn't believe how the slender Bobbie was able to have such a huge piece of male meat shoved in his ass, but it was obvious that the man he learned was pretty much the cell block's whore was certainly enjoying it with his girlish cries. He wasn't sure that he would like being fucked like that. Hell, Gene's asshole hurt when he had a larger than normal turd pass through that opening.

It was when Gene and Mac had returned to the cell that Gene found the courage to ask, "Do you like to do what they were doing, Mac? I mean, doesn't that hurt?"

Mac couldn't help but laugh, "Kid, you sure haven't had much sex, have you? Ain't you ever butt fucked a girl?"




Raiford



Gene blushed, feeling like he hadn't really experienced sex, almost like he was as virgin. "N-no. I just fucked. I didn't...didn't know that people did it that way." Remembering what he asked without receiving a reply, Gene repeated, "Do you like doing it like that?"

In partial response, Mac gripped one of Gene's bubble-like ass cheeks and squeezed, "As good as pussy, Jeannie. Good as pussy. And, hell yes I like it."

Both men were silent a moment with Gene deep in thought, remembering the scene he had witnessed earlier while Mac studied his curious cellmate, wondering if it was a good time to take advantage of the innocent curiosity. The very thought of plundering the tender ass of his newly-made cocksucker causing his cock to swell slightly and tent one leg of his undershorts. Gene noticed Mac's arousal and without asking permission, quickly dropped to his knees in front of Mac and captured the end of the stiffening meat through the cotton shorts with his mouth.

Gene looked up at Mac with pleading eyes and whispered hoarsely, "D-do you want...want to do that with me?"

Mac looked down at the innocent youth and actually felt a sense of compassion and caring for him while asking, "You sure? You want me to fuck you, baby?"

"Uh, I-I don't...I don't know," Gene answered as he rose to his feet. "I was just wondering if that is what you wanted." He thought for a moment and added, "I'll do anything for you. If-if that's what you want, Mac, I'll do it. If it won't hurt, I can do it."

Mac stepped behind Gene and gripped both ass cheeks with his hands, feeling the tight but soft moons of flesh in his palms. "It might hurt a little at first, Jeannie. Just a little, though. And then you'll begin to love it. By the time we finish, you'll be begging for it just like you heard Bobbie." Mac couldn't believe it how Gene had actually initiated the discussion. He had figured all along that when it came time, he'd have to rape the kid just like he did his mouth. And here the boy's ass is being promised to him on a platter. Unbelievable!

"I-I'll try, Mac, I will if you want."

Behind Gene, Mac grinned lasciviously while he moved his hands to the front of Gene and up to his breasts where he massaged the slightly puffy nubs suggestively. Pressing his stiffening cock into the globes of flesh, Mac whispered huskily, "Tonight, then. After lights out, Jeannie. I'll take it slow and I won't hurt you. You'll like it, I promise."

Nothing more was said about the plans for the night and the two of them spent the night before lights out reading. A few days before, Mac had Gene switch bunks with him, placing Gene on the bottom bunk because he had noticed the youth's coughing from Mac's chain smoking and through an unusual sense of concern, thought it best for his roomy to be on the bottom bunk.

Within a half-hour after the lights went out, Mac got out of his bunk and went to his locker and then sat down on the bunk beside Gene. "You ready, Jeannie? I got some lube here that will make it easy for you."

Gene sat up and innocently asked, "Wh-what do you want me to do?"

"Take your shorts off and then suck me for a couple minutes."

Shaking nervously akin to a bride on her wedding night, Gene stood up and slipped his shorts off and then got to his knees in front of Mac. His shakes subsided as he captured Mac's cock in his mouth and began to make love to it like he knew his 'man' loved, coating it well with is saliva as he teased the rubbery head. Mac let Gene work on his cock until it was harder than he could remember and then instructed, "Get on the bed on your knees, baby." He quickly got off the bed while Gene assumed the desired position with his head pointing towards the bars and then got behind the waiting youth. He pushed Gene's head and shoulders down to the bed and then dipped two fingers into a jar of men's hair grease. Smearing a little of the grease on his dick head, Mac then used just his forefinger to circle around Gene's puckered hole, circling around and around for a few minutes until he felt the sphincter loosen and his finger slip inside the hot channel without resistance. Gene gave a little grunt at the intrusion but didn't complain as Mac rotated the one finger in circles for a couple of minutes, then added his middle finger, adding more lubricant to the dilating hole, both fingers beginning a relaxing circling while going deeper in the tight shaft, weakening both sphincter muscles until Gene began to moan softly with pleasure.

Gene's soft moans told Mac that the young virgin was as ready as he ever would be. With the inpatience of lust-fueled desire, Mac removed his fingers from the tight ring and, holding his throbbing cock with one hand, rubbed the mushroom head against Gene's loosened entrance. Leaning further over the smooth, hairless back of the boy beneath him, Mac whispered, "Push like you're trying to shit, baby. Push."

When Mac felt Gene's man pussy blossom slightly, he pushed forward with his pelvis, lodging his dick head in the tight opening before it could close instinctively. When Gene started to let his body fall forward the youngster grunted, "Oh, oh, it's making me feel like I have to- to go!" Mac gripped the pale white hips with both hands and held Gene in place while he pushed forward a little more, forcibly stretching the channel entrance to accept the foreign intrusion. When Gene moaned quietly with pain, Mac relaxed his pressure, knowing from experience how to let the tight channel become accustomed to the encroachment of his cock before pushing forward a little more. When he felt the defensive tightening loosen some, Mac pushed forward a little more and then stopped briefly before resuming the forward journey of his palpitating cock.

It took Mac several minutes of pressing forward, then relaxing the pressure, then resuming the insistent entrance, before Mac felt his pubic bone press against Gene's soft, yielding ass. He stopped for a full minute while he savored the feeling of the heated tube wrapped around his cock as Gene's moans turned to quiet whimpers, his tortured channel feeling a measure of relief from the halted pressure.

"I-I feel so f-full, Mac, and it hurts," Gene whined.

"Just relax, baby, relax. It'll go away and before you know it, it will start to feel good," Max placated the youngster. Mac rotated his hips slightly, working to loosen the tortured entrance further so he could begin to actively fuck his virginal man-pussy, knowing that within a very short time the opening would loosen more and then the abused shaft nerves would begin to feel the exciting friction. Then the erotically stimulated nerve endings would spread the pleasure throughout the boy's body, causing him to respond with passion as he submitted to the older man's desire.

Sensing Gene's relaxation and the dying of his whimpering, Mac began a slow rhythmic stroke of his hips, sliding his cock almost out of the stretched channel and then pushing it back in to the limit. Back and forth while he held the youth's hips, even forcing the body back and forth in consort with his own movements, only pausing once to coat his cock shaft with more goo before resuming the pummeling of Gene's receptive ass, their flesh slapping together as belly met buttocks resoundingly. Within five minutes of Mac starting the insertion of his cock into Gene's body, the youth began to join in the fucking of his chute, his previous moans of pain becoming grunts of erotic pleasure, even squeals of joy when the rubbery cock head would press against the hidden prostate that caused his now-hard dick to drip a boyish release onto the sheet below his body.

As Mac see-sawed his meat in and out of the now-willing and assisting hole, Gene had raised his head and looked through the bars of the cell where he spotted a hand holding a mirror. Gene almost shrieked to Mac, "Mac, there's someone watching us!"

Mac just laughed and didn't even miss a stroke, somewhat proud of his accomplishment of the ultimate seduction of Gene. "So what?", he grunted with a labored breath. "Just someone that can't get any pussy. Besides, that's just that asshole next door. Probably wants a dick in his ass, too." 

As soon as Mac had uttered that last sentence, the hand and the mirror from the cell next door disappeared and Gene could hear some muttered whisperings then quiet. He accepted Mac's explanation and with the disappearance of the voyeurizing mirror next door, relaxed back into the enjoyment of the fucking he was receiving, becoming a willing partner and quietly voicing his passion, mewing girl-like sounds of "Oh, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck meeee. I love it, I love it. Oh, Mac, harder, harder, deeper, go deeper."

Mac willingly complied with his gal-boy's requests and began to slam away like a jack hammer at the youth before him, even forcing Gene to collapse completely onto the mattress with Mac sprawled out on top of Gene's back. Gene hugged his pillow as he opened his legs as wide as he could to better accept his partner's lunging cock. In that position, Mac was able to lovingly kiss Gene's shoulders and neck as he whispered his approval, telling the accepting Gene how nice his ass was, how good it felt to be inside of him, how he was going to fill his hot ass with cum. Each of Mac's words excited Gene even more and he responded with an almost reflexive tightening of his sphincter, giving Mac's cock an appreciative hug.

Even the thin coating of that white powder he kept hidden which Mac had applied to his cock head earler wasn't enough to finally cause Mac to yield to his body's need to release his pent up load. Mac pushed his upper body up from the supine figure beneath him and grunted in an animalistic roar "Argghhhh! Aahhhh, ahhhh!", and then collapsed back onto Gene's perspiration-slick back where he labored to catch his breath. Gene felt the heat of Mac's release deep inside his gut and he was enveloped in a warm sense of belonging and caring, happy that he had pleased 'his man' while he had also enjoyed the coupling. Gene now understood how that gal-boy Bobbie had felt and reacted in the shower. He also understood that a threshold had been crossed for him. He knew that his sexuality was now forever changed, that Gene no longer existed but was reborn as 'Jeannie'. He smiled in self-satisfaction as he felt Mac's cock slip out of his abused hole and the older man lift off of him. He fell asleep as he heard Mac at the sink possibly washing his cock. . .

*******************

Just as Gene had adjusted to sucking his first cock, he also quickly adjusted to the first time he was fucked and in no time was actually the aggressor when it came to having sex with 'his man'. Often, Gene would tease Mac mercilessly, either rubbing his butt against Mac's crotch suggestively, or even bending over in front of him in the shower. Usually, that tease would end up with Mac taking Gene's pussy right there and then, regardless of whether there were onlookers or not. Naturally, such blatant behavior quickly resulted in the cell block, if not the whole prison, giving Gene the reputation of the cutest gal-boy, sometimes even called a whore, although Mac had steadfastly refused to share his private slut with anyone, despite several offers of prison riches.

Then came the day when everything changed. One day while Gene was in the cell, the emergency 'goon' squad showed up and ordered him out. They proceeded to search every nook and cranny of the small enclosure before packing up all of Mac's belongings in a pillow case. Gene couldn't find out what was going on until he was able to ask the floor guard and was told that Mac had knifed another inmate on the yard and was now in the 'hole'. Gene had some idea of some of the things that Mac was into, so he wasn't too surprised, figuring that someone had tried to cheat Mac and that was known in the joint to be a 'bad idea'. At that point Gene only knew that it would mean that Mac would be gone for awhile, possibly weeks, so all he could do was cope with the way things were. He knew that because of his relationship with Mac he would be safe as most, if not all, of the prison knew not to cross someone as dangerous as Mac. Plus, there were Mac's close friend--men just as dangerous--and they had promised they would 'look after' Mac's girl.

The first few days Mac's reputation and friends were enough, but the old adage of "keep your friends closer" turned out to be true when the bear-like inmate named Rod stopped by Gene's cell. "Howya doin', Jeannie? Missing Mac?"

"Uh, hiya Rod. Yeah, I miss him. Miss him a lot."

Rod studied Gene appreciatively, admiring the youth standing by his bunk wearing the girl's panties that Mac had smuggled in for him. "Hmm, looking good, Jeannie." Pointing at the panties that Gene now wore without embarrassment, he asked, "Those new?"

"Y-yes," Gene blushed, although he had got over the initial embarrassment he had when Mac insisted he wear panties. Still, he felt a little funny when someone specifically mentioned the undergarment.

"Come here. Let me feel them," Rod more or less ordered.

Gene didn't hesitate, but stepped up to the closed cell door and turned slightly sideways for the big man to feel the silken material. He thought nothing of the request as he liked the grizzly inmate and after all, he was Mac's friend.

Rod reached through the bars and put the palm of his hand on Gene's left ass cheek. First he merely felt the silkiness of the cloth but then his touch became a little more invasive, actively rubbing and sqeezing Gene's ass. "Mmm, sure is nice ass, girly. No wonder Mac told me to watch out for you."

Gene muttered his thanks for Rod's compliment and started to back away from the door but Rod hooked his fingers in the panty leg and growled, "Don't move, Jeannie. Don't want to tear these nice things."

Gene halted his movement and stood meekly while the big man fondled his behind, even when the large hand slipped inside the top and rubbed the cheek flesh suggestively. "Hmm, I want some of that," Rod muttered. "You going to give me some, Jeannie?"

Shocked that a friend of Mac's would ask something like that, Gene cried in a soft girl-like voice, "N-no, Rod. I can't. Mac wouldn't like that."

"Hows he goin' to know?" Rod fired back. "I ain't goin to tell 'em."

"I-I'd have to tell him, Rod. I can't keep a secret from Mac. He just looks at me and knows the truth."

Rod contined to fondle Gene's ass but switched tactics, "Wa'l, then you can give me sum head, girl. I don't care which--I just gotta get off. Either pussy or head." Rod snaked a big arm around Gene's waist and pulled him tight against the bars and growled in the terrified boy's ear, "What's it goin' to be, girl? Either you give me somethin' or I'll beat yer ass."

Gene whimpered as his mind raced and he came to the realization that the big man wouldn't stop at doing anything like he said as he was every bit as dangerous as Mac and didn't seem to be afraid of his friend. After a full minute while Rod continued to squeeze his ass, Gene relented, "I-I'll suck you, mister Rod. J-just don't tell Mac. Please?"

Rod grinned, "That's better, bitch." He looked up and down the walkway and, releasing his hold on Gene, took his cock out and stuck it through the bars. "Git on yer knees, girl, and drink from this!"

Without further objection, Gene dropped to his knees and he almost fell backwards when he saw the size of the meat stuck through the bars. It was huge! At least two inches longer than Mac's and almost as round as a soda can! He stared at the huge object until Rod barked, "Get on it, bitch!" Gene leaned forward and ran his tongue over the uncut head a couple of times before attempting to take the bulbous head into his mouth. It was a struggle as Gene almost had to dislocate his jaws in order to get his lips around the reddened tip that was already oozing clear precum, but he managed, wanting to get the ordeal over with before someone came along that would tell Mac.

Rod reached through the bars with both arms and gripped Gene's head, pulling the kneeling younster's head tight against the bars so he could force more of his massive tool into the stretched-wide mouth. The bear-like man began to rock his hips back and forth as he face-fucked the struggling youth, forcing at least seven thick inches of tumultous cock meat in and out of Gene's mouth, causing him to gag continuously while tears streamed down his face and he made tortured gurgling sounds and used his hands to vaninly try to foce his head away from the bars and the punishing cock. Fortunately, Gene's torture only lasted less than two minutes as, with a roar of satisfaction, Rod's cock erupted with a voluminous explosion of thick, syrupy cum, filling Gene's mouth to overflowing, the excess running out of his open mouth and down his chin to his chest, ultimately dropping onto his silk panties.

When the big man was satisfied he had given the kneeling youth all he had, Rod pulled his cock out of the slack jaw and wiped the head across Gene's face with contempt. "Good head, kid. Your mouth is just like pussy." He put his softening bologna-like cock back in his pants and sneered, "And I'm going to get some of that pussy, too. Get that in yer head, bitch."

Gene got to his feet and shook his head in defiance, "No, Rod, no. You're too big, and, and Mac will be pissed at you for forcing me to do this."

Rod laughed, "You stupid bitch! Mac ain't gittin outa da hole for months! Who you think is goin' to look after you 'til he's out?"

Rod's words deflated Gene as he asked, "Wh-what? He, he isn't getting out soon?"

"Nah. Ain't you heard? They gave him six months in solitary. Until he gets out, you're free meat and if I don't keep others off you, you can bet you're goin' to give up that ass to who ever wants it."

Gene's shoulders slumped and he looked plaintively at Rod, "B-but others know I'm Mac's. They won't bother me."

The bearish man shook his head, "Jeannie, you got so much to learn how it is in here. The minute wolves around here know that your man is locked up, they stop being scared of him. Before you know it, you'll be the block whore just like that Bobbie."

Gene was terrified by Rod's words and although he wasn't certain that what the man said was true, he didn't know if he was telling him how things really were. With tears flowing, Gene begged, "Wh-what can I do, Rod? I don't want to be like Bobbie."

Rod could see that he had the good-looking gal-boy where he wanted and he softened his words, "Just do like I said, Jeannie. That's all. Give me what I want and I'll make sure no one bothers you."

Gene looked at the bearish man in the eyes and asked, "Wh-what do you want me to do? I don't know if I can take what you have. It's too big."

"Don't you worry 'bout that, girlie. You'll be surprised how that pussy will stretch. Just like yer mouth did."

Gene wet a wash cloth and began to clean his face of Rod's cum then acquiesced, "I-I'll try. Just please, please don't hurt me."

"Okay, Jeannie. I'm going to get that pussy tomorrow, then. You meet me in the shower before the yard is open. Give us plenty of time." He looked meaningfully at Gene and then added, "Also, there will be a buddy coming by here in a little while. You give him the same thing you just gave me. You hear?"

Gene was shocked, "Y-you want me to suck someone else?"

"You got it, girl. You're my bitch now and if I tell you to suck a dog, you're goin' to do it." Without another word, the grizzly-sized man turned and left, leaving Gene to sit on his bunk in despair. 

Gene was still sitting there when he heard a voice, "You Jeannie? Rod sent me."

Looking up, Gene saw an inmate dressed in trustee clothes at the cell door and answered almost rebotically, "Yes, yes, I'm Jeannie."

The trustee grinned, his open mouth revealing a gold front tooth, and he pulled his cock out of his pants and stuck it through the bars. "Rod said you'd give me a blow job, whore. Get over here and do it."




Raiford



Rejectedly, Gene rose from the bunk and assumed the position at the cell doors. Without hesitation he dutifully opened his mouth and captured the already-glistening cock head, lathering it with his tongue, expertly teasing every nerve as he had been taught by his master--his absentee master.

With Gene's skill, it took him almost no time to elicit a groaning eruption from the cock in his mouth and, again as he had been taught, he swallowed each spurt, this time not letting a drop escape. He didn't even look up at the latest cum donor, but rose to his feet and went back to his bunk.

The trustee stood at the cell door for another minute before informing, "Next time I'll get the door unlocked, girl, and you can give me some of that pussy." Not hearing a response from Gene, he added, "Also, Rod said to tell you that you'll have another customer before chow call. Said you better take care of him."

Gene didn't even look up at the man when he made the announcement, merely resting his head on his knees as he studied what had become of his new role in prison. There were two more visitors that afternoon and he had to perform the same service for each, the last one informing him that he would have a visitor after lights went out and to get his ass ready for a good pounding. That pronouncement made Gene wonder as he knew that no inmate could be out after lights out. Was it a guard? Who could it be?

When he went to the chow hall, Gene found that he didn't have an appetite, so he returned to his cell block and managed to take a shower alone in the empty shower room. As he washed, Gene sobbed. Not just for missing his protector, his 'man', his lover, but for the situation he was now in. When he had cried himself out, Gene resolved to make the best of the bad situation and he made sure that his butt was clean for the unknown late-night visitor he was supposedly going to have.

******************

About an hour after the lights were turned off, Gene heard the rattle of the cell door locking mechanism and a few minutes after that, the same guard who had received the little packet from Mac quietly used a large key to unlock the door. He stepped in to the gloomy cell and eased the door shut behind him and then whispered, "Jeannie? You awake?"

Gene sat up and whispered back, "Yes sir, I'm awake."

The guard sat down beside him and put an arm around Gene's trembling shoulders. In a comforting voice he asked, "Rod tell you what I want?"

"N-no, sir. He just sent me a message to expect a visitor tonight and that I should prepare my ass."

"Um-hmm. Yeah, that's part of it. What I told him was to tell you that you had to do anything I tell you to do. And I mean EVERYTHING. You got that, girl?"

"Y-Yes sir. I'll do what you want. Just please don't hurt me."

The guard ran his hand down Gene's back to the crevice of his cheeks and slipped his hand inside the panties that Gene was still wearing, although he had carefully washed them after Rod's cum had soiled them. "Well, I want some of this fine ass you got, but first you get on your knees on the floor and show me how obedient a slut you're going to be."

Gene quietly obeyed, getting on his knees between the guard's open legs. He wasn't sure what to do, so he waited for further orders from the portly guard, trembling slightly with the fear the man created in him merely due to his position.

"Take my cock out, slut," the guard whispered hoarsely.

When Gene had unzipped the guard's uniform trousers and managed to snake his mid-sized cock out, he was then ordered, "Kiss it, bitch. Kiss it all over. Show me how much you love cock."

Gene obediently did as commanded, starting at the uncircumsized head and working down each side of the stiffening member, even forcing his lips inside the open pants to reach the end of the shaft buried in a thick mat of hair. He completed the required action for a few minutes until the guard pushed his head back and stood up. Kicking off his shoes, he dropped his pants and underwear in one move and stepped out of the garments. Gene stayed in position at the man's feet and awaited his next command, knowing instinctively that he had best do exactly whatever the heavy guard demanded. 

It wasn't long before he heard a harsh whisper, "Lick up my legs to my balls, girl, then take them in your mouth."

Gene steeled himself to follow the man's instructions precisely, working up the right leg from side to side until he reached the large nut sack hanging between the spread legs. He could smell the musty scent of the man, but in a way, it wasn't repulsive. Instead, it created in Gene a certain rush of desire and he began to do as ordered with more passion. He captured first one nut and then the other in his mouth and rolled them around with his tongue, bathing them thoroughly with his tongue. 

After a few minutes of this, the guard pulled Gene's head back by his hair and smacked his face with the now rigid cock. "Yeah, that's a good little ball sucker. Oh, girlie, am I going to have fun with you. My little slut." He turned with his back to the kneeling inmate and ordered, "Lick my ass, slut. Work your tongue in there."

The man's degrading command was like a slap in Gene's face, but he dared not to obey so he stuck his tongue out as far as he could and tentatively licked down the man's fat ass, working his tongue into the deep crevice from the top to the bottom, stopping where the sagging cheeks met the hairy legs. The guard grunted his approval and, desiring more, bent forward with his hands on his knees, demanding, "Lick my hole, bitch. That's what you're good for, you ass-licking whore, you slut bitch."

Gene almost gagged as his searching tongue found the man's wrinkly, smelly asshole. He fought the gagging feeling, forcing the bile back into his throat and worked at the task he had been given, running the tip of his tongue around and around the shitty opening to the tone of the guard's grunted pleasure. "Deeper, bitch! Stick your tongue in my shit hole. Taste my mud!" To aid in Gene's accomplishing the order, the guard reached behind his ass and grabbed Gene's hair above the ears and pulled him hard against his fat cheeks. He held Gene like that for a couple of minutes, mindless of the boy's inability to breathe with his nose and mouth smothered by the obese flesh.

Gene was relieved when the guard released his head and directed, "Take off those panties and get on the bed, whore. I'm ready for some pussy."

When Gene had taken off his silken undergarment and knelt on the bed in the position which Mac had taught him, the guard barked, "Not like that, bitch. On your back."

Gene quickly rolled over, unsure of what the man was going to do. All he had learned of being fucked was that he had to have his ass in the air to make it possible for a cock to use his hole. In the position the guard had ordered, Gene could only see it was like a man fucking a woman. His naivete was such that he couldn't fathom the many ways a couple could copulate. Still, Gene lay as directed, his legs slightly open and unbent.

Gene quickly found out what the guard intended as the large man got on the bed between Gene's legs, easily slipping a hand under each knee and bending his legs back toward his chest. The guard lifted Gene's legs further and rested his knees on his wide shoulders, leaving Gene's man-pussy completely open to the kneeling man's cock. He didn't waste any more time as he shuffled forward and, holding his stiff meat with one hand, set it against Gene's unprepared hole. He pushed forward with a couple of attempts to violate the opening before the lubricating precum began to permit the cock's head to push through the sphincter and then with no sympathy for the youth beneath him, he pushed as hard as he could, plunging his cock into the unloosened canal.

Gene screamed in pain as he was penetrated painfully by the cruel guard, mindless of the entire floor of inmates hearing his cries, "Oh, god!! God, it hurts! Please, please take it out!"

Gene's cries went unheeded as the overweight guard used all of his strength and weight to rape the boy's hole, shoving his cock in and out with a furious force as though he was deliberated trying to cause Gene as much pain as he could. And he became vocal of his pleasure in inflicting pain as he shouted, "You worthless slut, you whore, take my cock, bitch and stop your damned crying! When I'm finished with you, they can drive a truck up your ass, goddamn bitch. No one will want this ass when I'm finished." 

Gene's cries turned to whimpers as the sadistic guard continued his assault on the up-turned ass. With the guard holding Gene's legs tightly to his shoulders while he forced the youth's body into a folded position with his knees pressed downward almost to his ears, Gene could do nothing to protect his savaged anal tube. Thankfully after a few moments of the wicked fucking, his entire lower body became numb and he no longer felt the malevolent abuse his body was receiving. He didn't even feel it when the man shot his load of heated cum deep in his bowels. 

But the guard's vindictive behaviour didn't end as he pulled his cock out of the tortured hole and dropped Gene's legs to the bed. Chuckling, he knee-walked his body up Gene's outstretched body and, grabbing his head by his hair, announced, "Now you can get your shit off my dick, bitch. Clean it!" Without further comment, he shoved his limp cock into Gene's slack mouth and pushed forward until it was buried to the hilt. Gene shuddered at the taste of his own bowels, even tasting some blood on the soft flesh from his torn rectal opening.

Finally, the guard got off of Gene and put his clothes back on. As he was slipping his shoes on, he commented, "Good pussy, bitch. And I'll be back for more of that. And, I think I can find some more cock for you to take care of. You're mine now and I'll make a million off of you." With that prophetic statement, the guard left the cell, leaving a despondent Gene lying in a fetal position holding his cramping belly and sobbing in his pillow.

To be continued...........