Come Christmas Steve Chapter 15 The Arrest
Whittaker started cleaning up and removing his condom when the apartment door burst open and what sounded like an assault force stormed into the apartment. "What the fuck is that?" Calvin yelled as he scrambled off the bed. Before any of us could even pull on a pair of boxers, the bedroom was filled with guys wearing all black and wielding weapons, screaming and yelling at us to get on the floor. One of them stood back and had a light fastened to his gun. I nearly swallowed my tongue as I dropped to the carpet. A knee drove into the small of my back and my arms were jerked violently backwards. Cold steel handcuffs were clapped onto my wrists. I was then hoisted up and dumped on the bed next to Whittaker and Calvin who were likewise handcuffed. I was dazed and confused until the overcoat guy walked in. The guy with the light on his gun kept it pointed at us, but the other three guys stepped back and held their weapons at ease.
The overcoat goon started laughing before announcing in his raspy voice, "Well, well, well. Look at what I found. You boys are all under arrest. This is gonna be some useful arrest footage. Looks like we caught you practicing what you do best." He pulled a badge from inside his coat and flashed it at us. He filled us in on our rights after he confirmed our names.
"What are you arresting us for?" I insisted. I was dumbfounded and shaking with trepidation. "Are you even really a cop?"
"I'm a special investigator with the FBI Child Abuse Unit. You, Mr. Steele, are being charged with sexual assault on a six year old boy while on Federal lands in Yellowstone National Park. Additionally, you are charged with molesting three boys in connection with your employment with the after school program at Longfellow Elementary School.
"What?!? No way!! That's not true!" I yelled. One of the guys dressed in black pointed a taser at me and told me to shut up. I cowered back and obeyed. I'd seen the YouTube videos.
The FBI guy in the overcoat then addressed Whittaker, "You, Mr. Whittaker are accused of one count of sexual assault on a prepubescent boy involving penetration." Whittaker started to object, but the man in black aimed the taser his way and he thought better of it also.
Lastly, the agent spoke to Calvin and said, "And you, Mr. Computer Genius, are charged with thousands of counts of possession with the intent to distribute pornographic images of underage children, both boys and girls. You've been a busy little beaver."
"That's bullshit! Those images were not mine and there was no intent to distribute. I can prove the source of those pictures. They weren't mine. I'll prove this is all a bunch of bull ..." Suddenly, there was a pop and a projectile on a wire hit poor Calvin in one of his flabby boobs. Calvin's big mistake was jumping off the bed and stepping toward the guy in the overcoat to plead his case. He let out a screech and started flopping about like a big mouth bass just pulled from the lake and dropped onto the bottom of the boat. He flopped and flailed and screeched in pain, legs and head and hairless genitalia flying in every direction. The agent in black, controlling the event, smirked in apparent satisfaction. Once he felt Calvin had enough, he stopped the flow of current leaving Calvin a blubbering blob of naked flesh on the floor. The agent retrieved the barbs from Calvin's puffy man-tits with little mercy by placing a boot against his chest and plucking them from his quivering boob. Calvin let out an elevated wail as each one was extracted.
Then the overcoat agent paused a moment, waved at the guy with the light attached to his gun, and told him to kill the camera. He addressed us with a sneer, "All of you make me sick to my stomach and I wish I could deal with you outside the law. I'd nail your balls to the floor and give you a dull butter knife, but I assure you, the Federal and Montana laws are very strict on these matters and you will pay dearly for your crimes. In fact, you might wish you were dead before they get done with you in the big house. They don't like your kind there and your sweet young asses will be ravaged beyond recognition. The only question is whether you'll live long enough to die of AIDS."
Calvin started crying again, sobbing uncontrollably. They all laughed in scorn at him. I was on the verge of throwing up. Whittaker looked calm and calculating. I could tell he was deep in thought. I was worried he might go all Bruce Lee on the feds and we'd all end up dead from the crossfire. But he didn't, and instead just sat quietly with his brow furrowed and his head bowed.
One by one, we identified our clothing on the floor and they assisted us in getting dressed. I was relieved we weren't going to get hauled into jail naked. I'd already heard all the horrible rumors about what happens in prison before the raspy voiced agent reinforced it. I could only imagine what a target three naked teenagers accused of sexually abusing boys would be. I began fearing for my life. I was shaking so badly at this point that I could hardly walk as they escorted us out of the bedroom and down the hall. Outside, a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk to see what was going on. I was surprised to see Jensen standing there amongst them. Even more surprising, the agent thanked him for his help. Jensen pointed his scrawny finger at us and sneered, "I knew it. I knew you fags were up to no good all along. Serves you guys right."
"Fuck you, Jensen!" Whittaker snarled back. "You and the WHORES you rode in on."
"Jensen, I'm innocent. Help me, please! Please! None of this is right. Call my brother Karl at Dartmouth. He'll know what to do. PLEASE! You have to ..." I was cut short by my escort. We were pushed into the back of an unmarked box van and the doors were slammed shut with an ominous thud. Calvin was still in tears and shaking worse than I was. Whittaker remained stoic and silent.
"Why me?" Whittaker asked, almost to himself, as we jerked away from the curb.
"Why you what?" I replied to clarify where his mind was going.
"Why did this just happen? I get why you were arrested since you've been diddling with the little boys at school and that cute little guy in the room next to us in Yellowstone. And I get why poor Calvin here was arrested since they found all that stuff on Calvin's computers and the thumb drive. But why me?"
"WHAT THE FUCK!" I screamed. "You really think I would do something like that?"
"You practically admitted what you did in Yellowstone and you are always going on about how cute the little boys are at the school you work at. You never mention the little girls, only the little boys. You fit the profile dude."
"Oh, that's unbelievable. Because I'm gay? Huh? You think because I'm gay, I must surely be a molester of little boys? You sit there and pass judgment, but the FBI doesn't go around arresting people without evidence so if they say you "penetrated" a young boy, they must have some evidence of it. It's funny how you used that word against Simba earlier today. You seem to know a lot about penetrating. So don't go getting all high and mighty Mr. 'I'm-so-straight'. It doesn't look to me like you're any less gay than the rest of us. Didn't I just watch you plowing Calvin's chubby ass just thirty minutes ago? Huh? You're about as straight as the Missouri River. And as for your lover boy over there, did you hear the agent? He's got both boy AND girl images on his computer and we know he goes both ways, so he isn't so fucking innocent either."
"You're a piece of work. You get us both involved in you and Steve's weird shit and then you start accusing us of this kind of nasty business? No, it just doesn't make sense. Calvin, tell me straight up, did you have kiddie porn on your computers besides what was on the thumb drive?" Whittaker asked.
Calvin shook his head no. "Sure, I've downloaded some porn, mostly girls but some hot twinks too. Who hasn't? But only five or six thousand and only of legal age. Why would I want to look at kids? That's just sick."
"Five or six thousand? Holy shit. That's more than a few." Whittaker looked away from me and went back into his trance.
"We're going to prison," I lamented. "We're going to get beat up and gang raped and probably murdered. This is not how my life was supposed to turn out. My family will have a good reason to be disgraced by me now. And I may never ever know what happened to Steve."
"Don't fucking mention that asshole's name in my presence ever again. I swear if you do, I'll rip your fucking head right off your fucking shoulders, handcuffs or not," Calvin cursed. "That fucker is the reason we're all in this mess and he was smart enough to skip town before this all went down. I swear he left that flash drive behind on purpose just so we'd become the targets and he could escape."
"Hmm," Whittaker mumbled again. "The flash drive. It's all about the flash drive. Why? Why are they interested in me and Calvin since they have the flash drive now?"
"Fuck both of you. You willingly participated. It's not my fault you're in this. I'm just as much a victim here as you are," I insisted. "None of that shit about me is true. None of it."
"Except for the part about being naked in the room with the kid in Yellowstone. We already know that was true. You're a guilty victim. We're innocent victims. You probably knew what was on that drive all along. You probably were in on the whole child abuse thing. I bet you got your share of little orphan boys to play with. You and your roommate will rot in hell for this. I swear you will," Calvin seethed.
I started to lash out again but lost the will. I was deeply hurt at his accusations.
We traveled for a long, long time - seemingly hours - sitting on a hard metal bench. No one spoke after that initial strained exchange. The cuffs were uncomfortable and cut into my wrists. Each bump in the road or hard turn jostled me into the side wall of the van and sent a fresh, jabbing pain through my sore wrists and shoulders. Whittaker and Calvin finally slid off the bench and lay on the rubber matted floor. Calvin lay in the fetal position and Whittaker spooned up behind him as best he could. Our shirts were just pulled over our heads and shoulders but the sleeves were armless since we had our arms cuffed behind our backs. The two on the floor actually fell asleep. I needed sleep badly but couldn't and I didn't want to lie on the floor. There was really no room with the two of them there anyway.
Finally, the van started making twists and turns and then came to a halt. My back and shoulders were killing me. I was sick to my stomach and I was desperately hurting emotionally from Whittaker's horrible accusations. Calvin's barbs hurt too, but not like Whittaker's. Calvin was kind of an asshole, but I thought Whittaker was in my corner and a friend. The idea that he believed the accusations against me burned deep in my gut. And I just kept thinking about Steve. Was he alive? Why did he participate in the child porn ring? What was going to happen to me now? I'd passed the point of emotional breakdown. I'd had a good cry along the way once Baby Balls Calvin and King Dong fell asleep. Now, I was in battle mode. Not physical battle, that was futile, but mental warfare. I was innocent, dammit. I had to prove it. But how? I knew who my phone call would be to: Karl at Dartmouth. When it came down to it, even though we'd had our differences, I knew he'd be in my corner and he was the legal guy and would know how to get me legal help. I started trying to remember his cell phone number.
The doors were jerked open with a bang that woke the two on the floor. We were pulled out and once my eyes adjusted to the light, I was surprised at the jail. It wasn't like any I'd imagined. We were taken to a room from the parking area and turned over to other guys wearing blue t-shirts that said FBI on them. One by one, the cuffs were removed and we all rubbed our sore wrists with welcome relief. We put our arms into the sleeves of our shirts and felt slightly more human. We each filled out an information sheet with our personal information and then signed at the bottom. Whittaker read every word on every line. Next, we were asked to remove all personal items from our bodies and pockets. All I had were my wallet and keys. They went into an envelope, were quickly sealed and we signed for them. Calvin had a gold chain and a ring to remove. He had a hard time getting the ring off.
"I guess we'll need to cut it off," the guard snorted.
"My class ring?" Calvin whined.
"Nah, your finger." He started laughing when Calvin's mouth dropped and all the other guards laughed along. "Of course your ring, you dumb fuck."
"Can't I just leave it on?"
"No. You can't. No jewelry in jail, cupcake."
Calvin dribbled saliva on his finger and tugged as hard as he could and finally ripped it free of his knuckle. Even though his knuckle was bleeding, Calvin looked pleased to have salvaged his ring or maybe his finger. I don't think he was all that sure they wouldn't cut his finger off.
Next we got fingerprinted, officially read our rights again and told what we were charged with. Then, we had to hold up a placard with numbers and letters on it and get mug shots taken. Lastly, we were marched into a neighboring room where there was a guy in a white lab coat waiting for us. The room looked like any typical medical clinic exam room, paper covered table and all. "Strip!" the guy in the coat ordered. "Naked!"
"What?" Whittaker asked. "Why?" Those seemed to be his two new favorite questions.
"Two reasons: one, because it's easier than cuffing you to the table here and cutting your clothes off and two, because I have to do a full physical and cavity search. Also, we have some stylish orange jumpsuits for you to wear when we're all done."
I'd never been fond of physicals. Stripping in front of a doctor and getting his finger up my butt always bothered me and I was always deathly afraid of boning up again during the finger thing. It happened to me when I got my first real athletic physical at age fourteen. It was a young Canadian born doctor, if he even was a real doctor and not just some medical assistant. Anyway, my mom took me and Billy to him together to get checked before hockey season. Mom and Billy stayed inside the room the whole time and being oldest, I had to go first. Billy and I were both stripped to our boxers and had already done the weigh-in and blood pressure check, and so on. I had no idea what to expect. Past physicals had been merely, check the heart and lungs, look in the ears and eyes and ask if I had any pains anywhere. I'd never had to take more than my shirt off before.
But this time, it was way different. We had to lay on the table with the paper liner and he felt all over my body, thumping on my stomach and pushing on my feet and hands. He did the usual stethoscope stuff and looking in the mouth, eyes and ears, but then he said stand up. I was relieved it was over because I'd managed to not get fully boned and I didn't think my pudgy was noticeable by anyone. Once I was standing, the doctor appeared in front of me on a rolling stool blocking my path to my clothes. He had disposable gloves on and without any warning, he simply grabbed the sides of my boxers and jerked them down. I gasped and instinctively reached to save them, but it was much too late. They lay at my feet. I stood there in exposed shock as he just matter-of-factly started fondling my balls, right in front of my mom and Billy. First one, and then the other. Well, what would you expect? My young dick started to grow. "No, no, no," I chanted over and over in my mind. "Please God, don't let me pop a bone. Not here, not now." I fought it off, but I was definitely approaching half mast.
He pushed in along the base of my dick and asked me to turn my head aside and cough and that actually helped me get my mind off my ballooning dick and it drooped back down just a bit. Then, he took my hips and spun me around and told me to bend over. When I did that and leaned on the table thing, I realized my semi-stiffie was in full view of my mom and Billy. I peeked and they were both staring right at it. Then I was shocked beyond words when a slimy finger touched my bung hole and pushed its way up inside me. I cried out in surprise and straightened up to protest. I wondered why my mother sat there so calmly while this guy violated her son. He rudely ordered me to stay bent over while he wiggled his finger around up inside my butt. All hope of control was lost at this point since that was my favorite thing ever for when I jacked off. I loved sticking the brush handle up there. My dick sprang to full attention and even started dripping a bit. I wanted so bad just to die on the spot. I peeked again and Billy was snickering, of course, but so was my mom! Holy shit! My mom was snickering at my boner. I felt the heat of my blush burning on both cheeks and thought I might just burst into flames. When he extracted the trigger finger, and had me stand up straight and face him again, he said in his Canadian accent, mostly to my mother, "Young boys and their oooveractive hormones, eh?"
"Tell me about it, I have four boys at home. Well, five if you count their father," Mom joked.
"Well there, you certainly know all aboot it then. Don'tcha, eh?" Then he apologized to me that he'd forgotten to check my meatus and made me expose my boner again while he spread my piss slit apart and peeked at it, asking if I had any pain when I urinated. I had no idea what a meatus was and was stuck on figuring that out. He could tell I wasn't processing what he'd asked me and he clarified, "Does it burn here when you go pee? It's a bit inflamed, ya know." I told him no, it was fine, and I was relieved that he cleared the path to my clothes.
I dressed quickly - pants first, of course. Naturally, Billy's exam was uneventful and he stayed perfectly and un-embarrassingly limp the entire time. He took it up the rear like a trooper with barely a flinch. He made sure to rat me out to all my brothers when we got home, though, and I endured weeks of humiliation over it. Now, I feared what fresh humiliation I was about to get thrust upon me and what the penalty might be if I boned up in front of this guard or doctor guy, whatever he was. And, that whole cavity search thing worried me a lot.
"Well? Strip!" the guy barked. "I ain't got all night. Actually, I do have all night, but I don't want to spend it staring at you ugly fuckers, so get naked."
We all complied, quickly pulling off our clothes. I had the thought that it would have been easier just to leave us naked in the first place. But I was glad we didn't because I remembered the crowd on the sidewalk and that asshole, Jensen. I wondered what kind of help he'd given the FBI. I wondered if Jensen made up more to the story about little Daniel in Yellowstone when he talked to the agent in the overcoat. I wondered if he knew all along that the guy in the overcoat was FBI and not a PI like he claimed. I stood next to the pile of my clothes with my hands over my dick just like Whittaker was doing. Calvin, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his small hairless package. One by one, Whittaker first, we had to go through the normal physical drill, finger and all. Then after the finger, for added measure, the guy greased up this contraption that went up our assholes and spread them open, Then with a light, he inspected up inside to make sure we weren't smuggling anything up there. I groaned when I saw Whittaker have it done. Afterwards, Whittaker returned to get his boxers on and the guy immediately scolded him.
"I never said you could get dressed. Rule 1: You never do anything without asking first. Rule 2: You immediately comply with anything an officer asks you to do. Now just stand there while I do your butt buddies." Calvin got the treatment next and grunted when the tool pierced his hole. I thought it was probably good that Whittaker had stretched him out down there in preparation. I really didn't think I'd have a problem with boning up, since I'd just shot my load at Calvin's apartment plus from all the nervousness I was suffering.
It all went well when it was my turn. He about gagged me with the tongue depressor as he checked every millimeter of my mouth cavity. I understood why the other two flinched when he felt up their balls, because he was excessively rough about it. I braced myself after the finger and when the cold steel of the inspection tool slid in and then expanded, I drew in a breath. It was very stimulating. I was taken by surprise at how much it affected me. It felt like Whittaker times another quarter percent was spreading me open. Finally, he extracted it and to my disappointment, I'd boned up. Not like crazy hard, but definitely past halfway and noticeable.
"Hah, you're the king of the butt pirates, aren't you kid? If you liked that, you might just enjoy your little stay in our hotel here. You might never want to leave." I held my tongue. He continued, "Good thing you boned up, though. I need some photographs of it. Finish getting it hard, I need it completely erect."
"Why do you want pictures of my erection?" I asked.
"Rule 3: Don't ask why when a guard tells you to do something. Just fucking do it." Then, he consented once I started stroking myself to try and comply, and he answered my question. "Because you've been charged with sexual assault crimes. A description of your penis often comes into play for the prosecution and they always want pictures. It's just easier to have them on file from the get go."
The idea that people, strangers no less, and kids possibly might be discussing my boned up dick and looking at pictures of it made me squeamish. I couldn't help but be suspicious whether they really wanted photos to show to the kids. That way, when it came time to testify, they'd be able to lie convincingly about what my boner looks like. I briefly considered refusing to continue, but then I remembered Rule 2 and Rule 3 and also thought back on Calvin flopping around on the floor from the taser and decided to keep on stroking.
I was losing the battle, though. The more I stroked, the more it deflated. "I might not get it up all the way. I just blew my load before we got arrested."
"I can cure that," he said. He opened a drawer and pulled out a needle and syringe along with a small brown bottle. "I got some erection injection juice here," he said with a smile. I freaked. "A couple squirts into your trouser snake and you'll be as stiff as a porn star on Viagra."
"NO! I'll get it up." I started pumping faster and harder as he laughed at me. I wasn't getting it all the way, though, and as much as I hated asking, I definitely didn't want shots into my dick. No way, no how. My dad always said that and I was briefly reminded of him. I was thankful he didn't know where I was and couldn't see what I was doing. So, I asked, "Could you, umm, stick that thing back up my backside? I think that would help me in getting hard."
He laughed his ass off and Whittaker and Calvin did a little too. The doctor guard complied though and I bent over while he shoved it as deep as it would go and spread it as wide as possible. I also used some of his KY Jelly on my dick and in no time I was stiffer than a dead steer in a winter blizzard. I modeled for him while he took multiple shots of my boned up dick from various angles.
Next, it was Whittaker's turn and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get a full erection. The doctor followed through on his threat and injected Whittaker's dick in two places on both sides to get it to bone up. The guard gripped Whittaker's dick with both hands and told Whittaker to do the top part of his dick and squeeze really hard for about three minutes after the injection to control excess bleeding inside the penis. The combination of medicines, he explained, caused the soft muscles in the penis to relax allowing more blood flow from the veins and also causing the backflow restrictions necessary to trap the blood. In a few minutes, Whittaker was rock solid and his photos were taken.
"That'll last about thirty to sixty minutes. If it goes over four hours, tell someone and I'll shoot you up with an antidote." Whittaker nodded and started modeling for his photo shoot.
"I'm ready," Calvin announced pointing to his small erection.
"I appreciate your efforts junior, but I don't need pics of yours. You're not accused of molesting anyone. You're just here for the porno charges."
"Oh," was all Calvin answered. At last, we were allowed to put on a pair of white boxers and an orange jumpsuit with numbers stenciled on them. Mine was the only one that fit. Whittaker's was way too small and Calvin's was too big. We were led down the hall to our cell. It was a room with a small window in a heavy door. The small room had a cement table in the middle and in the corner by the door was a drinking fountain, a toilet and a sink - no soap. The walls were a drab white as was the concrete floor. The room was harsh and cold. There were no beds and only three plastic fold-up chairs. There were some metal hooks and lots of bright lights in the ceiling. All three of us were ushered in together.
Calvin slumped into one of the chairs and pressed his palms to his forehead, elbows on knees, and he started whimpering. "I can prove I didn't download those kiddie porn pics and the ones I did download, they're all legal. If I get the chance, I can prove I'm innocent," he grumbled. Then he launched into a series of expletives.
Whittaker and I stared at each other for a bit. "I didn't do what they said," I finally told him as sincerely as I could be. "I didn't know what was on the flash drive."
He stared at me. "Doesn't make any sense any other way, Shane. One of us has to be guilty and they're just scaring the others of us to try and get information. It's the only thing I can figure out. How they think they can get away with this without my parents suing their asses off, is beyond me. But the Federal agencies have all gotten some pretty big balls since 9-11. They seem to be able to do about anything. I know I'm not guilty, and we both know Calvin isn't. That only leaves you. And Steve, of course. Why don't you just confess and tell them whatever they want to know and maybe Calvin and I can go home. Please. Don't drag us any further into this."
"You know what? Fuck you! It's no use even trying to talk to you." I took my chair and dragged it away to the far end of the cell and sat down with my back to them. I felt so abandoned. I supposed I should be hating on Steve too, but I couldn't. None of it made any sense. Exhaustion overtook me and I slipped off the chair, laid down on the hard concrete floor and fell fast asleep.
There was no rest, however. No rest for the wicked they say. It took forever to fall asleep and when I finally did, I dreamt of the wild apes chasing me through a vacant warehouse full of broken cement and rusting steel. As always in this dream, I was naked. Men in dark t-shirts just ignored me. Suddenly, the gorilla appeared and I couldn't outrun him. He grabbed me, dragged me into a white room and forced me to my knees. He wiggled his gorilla penis in my face and then moved around and shoved it forcefully up my ass. While the gorilla was fucking me, dry and painfully, the guard doctor walked slowly into the room holding a syringe with a large needle attached. The doctor sneered and yelled at me to get an erection or he'd stick the needle in my dick. Just as the gorilla was about to climax, Whittaker appeared and with one sudden swing of his massive dick, snapped the gorilla's head back. The gorilla groaned and fell backwards, slipping from my bleeding ass. Suddenly, Whittaker screamed out in pain and I woke up, sweating and panting. The bright lights hurt my eyes. I could see my cellmates sleeping across the room and after I confirmed they were still there, I shut my eyes again.
Eventually, I drifted back to sleep, once my heart rate had dropped and my dick had shrunk. I wondered if Whittaker's dick was still hard. The curiosity overcame me and I wandered over. I knelt and felt him up. He was soft and his large penis hung limply along his leg. Curiosity satisfied, I sat back and stared at the two of them lying there. I pitied them. I was responsible for dragging them into this mess. My simple little attempt to do something nice for Steve and get him a laptop had exploded into a massive pile of shit. No good deed goes unpunished, they say. That was never truer in my life than at that moment. I made my way back to my corner and lay back down for another crying spell. I needed to let it out. The dream had left me shaken and I was just overwhelmed from all the crazy events of the day. After I fell back asleep, if I dreamt again, I don't remember it.
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Chapter 16 will follow soon.
Sincerely, Hans h.schreiber@hushmail.com