Author's Note: I originally published this story on the Just Us Boys forum for Gay Stories. Here I present a slightly edited version, the changes mainly being to grammar but also, on occasion, modifying minor plot details so as to fit in better with the overall scheme of things. I hope you enjoy this story and will send your feedback to me (Justin) at the above email address. Please remember to include "Doing Hard Time" in your email Subject so I'll know it isn't spam. I'll try my very best to respond to each email individually.
The usual disclaimers and copyright laws apply. Please refer to the first installment for a longer version of this.
DOING HARD TIME
~ Chapter 2 ~
From the Narrative of Caleb Fisher:
The catcalls of the other inmates already heralded his arrival, but I didn't look up until I heard the guard, Max's voice.
"Hey Caleb, you've got yourself a new cellmate," he announced as he fiddled with the key in the lock. Max and I exchanged a look of understanding.
The young man standing next to Max would be better described as beautiful rather than handsome. His brown hair was streaked with blond. The soft lines of his face, coupled with a pair of startlingly blue eyes and full lips, lent him an innocent, boyish look. I snorted inwardly. Not so innocent if he'd got himself sent to this hellhole. He was definitely older than he looked, which was as if he was in his late teens. In spite of myself, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the poor kid - with his slim build and pretty face, he probably wasn't going to last long in this place.
He walked into the cell like a prisoner on death row heading for his execution. I noticed the prison-issue clothing he was wearing was too small for him, and particularly tight around the chest and groin. I suppressed a chuckle. I knew Max well enough to know he liked to do that to the cuter young inmates.
"So what's your name?" I asked him when he'd sat down on the empty bunk bed facing me. I was making an attempt to be friendly, but he didn't look like he was going to reply.
I repeated my question. This time, he mumbled his name, so softly I could barely hear, "Harrison."
"I'm Caleb," I told him, determinedly plodding on with my attempt to be friendly. "So what was it?"
He looked at me, uncomprehendingly. I stated my question more clearly, "What did you do to end up in here?" Rather than having the intended effect, it only made him clam up completely. He either wasn't ready to share the details of his crime, or he was afraid of the use I would make of that information.
Then I heard a most unwelcome voice, from the cell opposite ours. "Caleb, who's the pretty little boy you've got there? Your new bitch? Oh right, you don't have use for those, eh, Caleb? You can hand him over to me if you don't want him." It was Mitch, the prison's resident villain, who followed up his remarks with a nasty laugh.
I didn't bother to reply, but looked instead at Harrison, whose face had drained completely of color after hearing what Mitch had said.
My sympathy for the poor kid returned. He obviously wasn't used to the harsh reality of life in a maximum-security prison. I hoped, for his sake, that he would survive the experience.
From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:
My first few moments in the prison cell, and I'd already attracted unwanted attention. I somehow instinctively knew the guy in the opposite cell had to be the infamous Mitch. I noticed his burly, well-muscled figure, and felt my heart sink. There was no way I'd be a match for him. What had I done to deserve this?
I looked at my cellmate, Caleb he'd said his name was. He was a good deal older than me, I'd guess in his mid-forties. His closely-cropped black hair was liberally sprinkled with white. He'd tried to be friendly, but I wasn't certain of his motivations. Even in college, I'd made the wrong choices in friends, and after that bad experience, I wasn't about to trust some stranger I'd just met, in prison of all places.
I got up from my bunk bed and looked around the cell. Caleb had given up on his attempts to draw me into conversation and was busy reading a book quietly. He didn't seem to notice as I got up, but I could feel his gaze following me as I walked over to the cell's only window. It was a small grilled window, just above a storage cabinet that both cellmates were supposed to share. It reflected the sparse furnishings of the cell - just two bunk beds, one on each side wall. The window looked onto the prison yard, surrounded by a high chain-link fence with guard towers at the corners.
I went back to my bunk and sat on it with my knees drawn up. I hadn't reckoned on the boredom of prison life. It did, however, offer me time to contemplate my sins, something I would have done better without. I didn't need reminding as to why I was here.
A couple of hours passed before the guards called us for our late afternoon leisure time in the yard. The moment I was out of my cell, Mitch was at my back, breathing down my neck. "I'll get you and your sweet little ass soon," he whispered before smacking me lightly on the butt.
Shocked, I speeded up my pace until I was behind the guard who was leading us to the yard. I looked behind to see Mitch who, far from looking discouraged, was actually grinning creepily.
When we reached the yard, I quickly found a spot that was within direct view of the guard tower. Nearby were some benches and tables spread out on the grassy parts of the yard. There was a makeshift basketball court where some of the inmates were playing. I looked longingly in their direction. I used to be on my high school's basketball team. I wasn't as tall as most of the players, only 5'10", but I still managed to routinely beat my high school best friend, Josh, at shooting hoops. But looking now at the rough play of the inmates, I knew I'd be a fish out of water. I didn't know anybody there.
Well actually, there were two people I did know. Mitch was (thankfully) busy having a chat with his buddies by the fence. Caleb was seated at one of the benches, watching the basketball game intently. Unlike the other fully-occupied tables, he was the only occupant at his. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, I approached his table and sat down at the bench on the other side of it.
If he noticed me he gave no sign of it. We passed the first hour in silence, observing the game. Then he got off the bench and started to do pushups. He wasn't the only inmate exercising; most of them were in one form or the other. I decided, what the heck, I might as well work out as well. Surely Mitch wouldn't try anything here in full view of the guards. How wrong I was.
I'd only done a handful of sit-ups when a shadow fell across me. It was Mitch, surrounded by his cronies. "Well, well, what have we here? Let's have a look at what pretty-boy here's been working on, shall we?" Before I could react, he reached down and pulled my shirt up to expose my flat stomach.
"Smooth as a baby's bottom," laughed Mitch. "You know what, let's check that out, too," he said, and started to try to turn me over. My shock at his sudden appearance wore off, and I struggled to pull my hands free of his grasp. Not succeeding, I tried the only other thing I could think off. I kicked out with my leg, catching him in the groin.
Mitch let out a gasp of pain and released my hands as he stumbled backwards. Quick as lightning, I got to my feet so as to not offer him any more opportunities, keeping my eyes on him warily.
"You'll be sorry you did that," Mitch snarled. He looked ready to lunge at me.
"What's going on here?" A guard managed to push his way in through the inmates surrounding us. I let out a sigh of relief.
"Nothing, sir," Mitch replied sullenly, but shot me a malevolent look. I gulped.
"It had better be nothing. It's time for you lot to hit the showers," said the guard.
My relief quickly evaporated. As you already know, I'm not comfortable with being nude in front of other guys. Well, I used to be before I had an unpleasant experience. Reluctantly I trooped behind the guard who led us the showers.
The showers weren't built keeping privacy in mind. Most of the inmates immediately started stripping off, laying their clothes on the tiled bench at the centre of the room, before heading under the shower-heads that lined the walls on opposite sides. I slowly removed my shirt. I realized Caleb was next to me. As he started to strip off his clothes, he revealed a body that was amazingly fit for a guy his age. Without any hesitation, he pulled down his boxers, releasing a huge, uncut cock.
Shit, why was I paying attention to these details? I'd been so slow at removing my clothes, I was the only one left at the bench other than Caleb. I realized there were only two empty spaces left under the shower-heads. To my dismay, one of them was right next to Mitch. Caleb started to head to the other empty spot. Desperately, without thinking, I reached out to touch his arm. He turned to look at me, and I quickly pulled back my hand.
What was I going to tell him? Our eyes met, and he must have understood the look of pleading in my eyes. Without a word, he switched his direction and went to the shower-head beside Mitch. I was still in my boxers, brought back to reality when the guard snapped, "Move it. You haven't got all day."
I hesitantly stripped off my last vestige of clothing, and reflexively covered my genitals with my hands as I laid the boxers on top of my pile of folded clothing. I then walked over to the showers. Once the jet of water hit me, I relaxed and took a quick look around. The guard was still there. The other inmates were busy showering and none seemed to pay attention to me.
I felt slightly reassured as I removed my hands from my groin and started to wash my body. I noticed the inmate next to me shoot a lascivious glance at my cock, but he didn't try to touch it or anything.
I was completely unsuspecting when I suddenly felt a couple of hands shove me against the tiled wall. A voice I recognized in horror as Mitch's whispered, "You're going to learn this lesson the hard way, bitch."
I struggled helplessly against his strong grip. My face was pressed sideways against the wall, but I managed to choke, "No . . . please, let me go . . . I didn't mean to-"
His grip didn't lose its pressure on my back. "You sure as hell meant what you did, you little cocksucker," he snarled in my ear. "And now you'll pay for it."
I felt something hard - his cock - press against my virgin ass. I couldn't see the guard anywhere. I prayed desperately for anything and anyone that could save me from this situation, even as I prepared myself for the inevitable pain.
Then an authoritative voice said, "Leave him alone."
To be continued . . .