Date: Mon, 31 May 2021 18:21:21 +0000
From: JordanProject <JordanProject@protonmail.com>
Subject: Texas 1957 - Chapter 1

This story is fiction. It is a sequel to Texas 1956, a novel-length
examination. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. It's
copyrighted 2021 by The Jordan Project, all rights reserved outside of
Nifty. The reader comes first, so I live for feedback. Please take some
time to provide it to TBTop@protonmail.com. What worked, what didn't work.

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TEXAS, 1957 – Chapter 1

Staff Sergeant Thomas Jensen was tall, muscular, and mean. One of the
guards in the brig at the base outside of the town of Clinton, a plain,
dusty settlement in the vast, windswept reaches of West Texas, he was known
to co-workers and inmates alike for his hatred of any queer prisoner. He
had plenty of opportunity to show his opinion and to act on it. And he had
a secret.

McDaniels Naval Installation was unusual, starting with an anomaly which
amused the local population that wondered why there was a navy base in West
Texas, hundreds of miles from any body of water. The widespread belief,
rooted in truth, was that it was there because of the machinations of a
powerful senator who had prevailed on the Department of Defense to convert
a camp for German prisoners of war into a military installation after the
war was over.

There was more to it than mere political logrolling. The facility was used
to train aviators, and its collection of very long runways and large
hangers made it a reserve in case of a major war. But that was something of
a cover story. The base's main purpose was its secretive brig, which kept a
small group of inmates who had committed ordinary crimes, and 50 homosexual
offenders drawn from military prisons in the rest of the country.

In the closing days of the second world war, the military had captured a
treasure of information in Germany, including material on how the Nazis had
dealt with sexual offenders, particular those who were homosexuals.

The Germans had studied all of it in depth, and experimented with
techniques of control. They had realized that, their perversion aside, many
homosexuals were talented in other ways, and therefore it was unwise to
simply execute them. Castration had been explored, but was found to be
counterproductive: Too many of those whose testicles were removed committed
suicide.

Interviews of high-ranking German prisoners revealed an officer who had
directed the research, and he was persuaded to remain in Texas after the
war to assist the victors. In particular, he had developed a family of
drugs to manage homosexuals. Drug testing was common in prisons, and it was
easy for the military to obtain the consent of the queer inmates who had
suffered great indignities, and worse, at the other military
prisons. Guards in the brig were required to take part in testing as a
condition of their postings, which involved substantial bonus pay.

The military called the drug "Correctol," and it came in a variety of
formulations. The main version, known as "Management," heightened all
senses, quickened mental activity, and generated feelings of inferiority,
submission, humiliation, and shame. It also generated a hunger for praise
and reassurance, along with admiration and attraction to superiors and
belief in their authority and superiority.

There were extensions of the formula that suppressed or enhanced sexual
function, along with another version that generated resentment and
rebellion. A formula for the guards, "Supervision," also heightened senses
and quickened mental activity, but greatly boosted their confidence and
superiority, and their sexual prowess.

None of the guards could be accused of harboring much sympathy for the
queer inmates, yet their attitudes were not entirely hostile. The
homosexuals who wound up there were generally docile and gave the guards
little trouble, apart from the occasional violation of the
anti-masturbation rule. Most guards had little appetite for surveillance,
and were content to report violations to a smaller group in their number
who took care of punishing offenders.

The enforcement detail consisted of three full-time guards and three
reservists, one from a lumber mill in town and the other two being
sheriff's deputies who ran their department's surveillance of known
homosexual meeting grounds in parks and highway pullouts. The reservists
were well-regarded, especially the sheriff's deputies, who had close
relationships with the commandants of the base and the military academy
outside of town, and with the Nazi doctor who had stayed on.

* * * *

Jensen was part of the internal enforcement squad, and it was his zealotry
in pursuit of the queers that led to his demise.

It started one weekend afternoon when Jensen, along with the reservist from
the lumber mill and one of the sheriff's deputies, had brought a reservist
captain to the brig for discipline. The reservist thought Jensen's taunts
went beyond the usual, and made a mental note to observe more closely. He
talked to the deputies, and when they heard a similar report elsewhere,
they made discreet inquiries to the other two active-duty enforcers.

They had their suspicions too, but hadn't said anything.

"We'll get sucked off every now and then, but sometimes I swear Jensen
wants to do the suckin' off," an inside guard told Jake Haskins, one of the
sheriff's deputies and a reserve gunnery sergeant. "One time, he got right
down next to one a-the queers while he was takin' my dick in his mouth and
started talkin' about how good it must taste. I think he wanted it."

"He always volunteers for the overnight watch," the other inside enforcer
said. "He's on film beatin' off while he looks at 'em."

* * * *

The enforcers met and devised a scheme to expose Jensen. It would start
with one of the "trustys," a Man drawn from the handful of prisoners who
had wound up in the brig for committing ordinary crimes. The guards liked
Justin Henry, a sergeant who lost a stripe and drew six months after he got
drunk in a local bar and crashed his car into one belonging to the base
Commandant.

Henry was philosophical about his predicament, and had shown his value by
running exercise drills, and helping the guards control the sex
offenders. He was a perfect fit for the opening gambit in the game to be
played – tall, muscular, a quick grin on his strikingly handsome
face. His prison-issued trusty uniform fit tightly everywhere, showing a
substantial package below his waist.

* * * *

The sheriff's deputies were surprised, and even shocked, when they first
met the German doctor. They'd expected the eminent researcher to be a shy
and bespectacled academic in his 50s or older, not a strapping blond,
blue-eyed 31-year-old who could have stepped out of a Nazi propaganda
poster.

Doctor Joachim Schmidt was a prodigy and one of Germany's youngest
university graduates, and had swiftly advanced during wartime. His capture
hadn't been what it seemed; in fact, he had rendered crucial aid to the
Allies, and they had arranged to spirit him out of the country after
receiving a tip that the SS was getting ready to arrest him. Now he was Joe
Schmidt and a Marine Corps major. He regarded the position as a high honor,
and wore his sharply tailored green and tan uniform with pride. When the
deputies brought the problem of Thomas Jensen to him, he was eager to help.

"The SS had the same problem with some of its personnel," he said, handing
over a vial. "This is a preparation of Correctol's Supervision formula, but
with a great deal more sexual stimulant. If Staff Sergeant Jensen is a
homosexual, this will bring it out. Have the Man you are using as bait be
agreeable to whatever the staff sergeant wants, and you will find out. If
he is a queer, come back to me and we will discuss the next step."

* * * *

"That's right, you lick his balls," Jensen said to the naked prisoner
kneeling in front of Justin Henry. It was the middle of the night, and the
two guards who had led him to a cell in bowels of the brig's basement gave
him a choice: Suck dick or his cellmates would lose their privileges.

Collective punishment was a powerful tool to ensure good behavior. It was
especially effective with the common criminals. Unlike the sex offenders,
they were allowed to masturbate, but it was a privilege that could be
revoked along with others – and was revoked for all of the inhabitants
of their three-Man cells for the misbehavior of any one of them.

Kyle Brady, the kneeling inmate, was not homosexual, but the guards had
revoked his masturbation privileges for misbehavior. The prohibition was to
run for only two weeks, but he was unable to comply and was caught in one
of the latrines, and Jensen had retaliated by forcing him to hold his
erection and threatening to rape his throat if he did it again – which
he did, this time secretly under his blanket. But not secret enough; the
other two inmates in his cell, not wanting to lose their privileges,
reported the infraction.

"Yer either gonna take dick or we'll cancel all the privileges and let your
cellies know exactly why," Jensen told him, omitting the fact that they had
reported him. "What do ya think yer cellies are gonna do about that?"

"Sir, I'm not a queer!" Brady protested. "Please, sir!"

"That's what ya said before," the staff sergeant replied, spitting the
words out. "I told ya what was gonna happen if ya did it again, so ya must
be lyin' about not bein' a faggot."

The inmate had nothing to say.

"Now get on yer knees in front of the trusty, look him in the eye, ask him
if you could have the privilege of sucking his big stiff dick, unless ya
want to face yer pissed-off cellies," Jensen said, his voice low and
brutal. The inmate hesitated and then spoke softly.

"Can I ... I ... suck your dick?" he finally asked, his voice barely above
a whisper. Henry, the trusty, smiled at the young inmate staring upward as
his erection stiffened and pressed outward against the tight fabric of his
pants.

"Only if you really want it," the trusty replied, flashing a taunting
grin. "I want to make sure this is voluntary, because I don't think a guy
should be forced into it."

"I really want it," Brady lied, knowing that the consequences of refusal
would mean violence at the hands of his cellmates. But there was a special
 humiliation in having to be complicit.

"You sure about that, kid?" the trusty said. "Then undo my pants and get to
work."

* * * *

"I bet them balls taste real good," Jensen said, squatting next to the
prisoner as he licked. "See how big and tight they are? Full of sweet cum
for that nice hard dick to squirt down yer throat."

Justin Henry chuckled at the sight below, especially the guard, who was
obviously lusting for him but couldn't say so, while the young prisoner had
no interest but was compelled to declare it. When Henry was approached to
take part in the scheme, he negotiated: If he managed to expose Jensen, his
conviction would be erased and he would become a guard.

Truth be told, he'd have agreed anyway, for no reason other than to see
Jensen, who he despised, brought low.

"Will ya look at that, Justin?" Jensen said, chuckling derisively as the
inmate squirmed under the assault. "Kid says he ain't queer, but his mouth
says he's lying."

The trusty smiled as he noticed how closely the staff sergeant was looking
at his dick as he pumped it into the prisoner's mouth. Jensen squatted and
leaned forward, his face only inches from the inmate's.

"Nothing like havin' a big military Man's stiff rod down yer suckin'
throat," he said, taunting and leering at the bound prisoner. "Oh yeah,
that's heaven! ... if yer a queer like ya are."

The trusty's smile widened as Jensen dug the hole deeper.

"Oh yeah, he's a lucky queer alright, stuck on a big, hard military dick,"
Jensen said, as he drooled on the inmate's cheek. He steadied himself by
grabbing onto the trusty's belt, and found a way to slap the Henry's hard,
muscular ass. "Yep, lucky queer getting' a good taste."

The trusty faked an orgasm, and then it was over.

"I'd better get him back to his cell," the trusty said after Brady had
gotten dressed. "How about I meet you on Block D in 15 minutes?"

* * * *

"I hope you noticed that I didn't come in your mouth," the trusty told the
inmate as he walked him back. "Now, I'm going to get this fixed, but you're
going to have to keep your hand off your pecker for a couple weeks, or the
next time you'll be swallowing."

A few minutes later, Henry caught up to Jensen in the quiet corridor.

"Damn, that Supervision formula has got me horny as all get out," the staff
sergeant said as they stood together.

"Yeah, me too," Henry replied. "Got a hardon that won't quit."

"A damn big and stiff hardon," Jensen said. "How big's that thing, anyway?"

"Never did measure it," the trusty answered. "I guess 8 or 8-1/2 inches."

"And that hard ass and big legs shoves it right on in," Jensen said, his
excitement taking over. "I bet that looks damn good while you got yer dick
in one of 'em."

"Maybe next time you can leave his hands free so he can rub my ass and my
legs while he's sucking on me," Henry said, his voice turning seductive as
he unzipped his fly and drew his growing erection out. A shaft of light
from the corridor illuminated the trusty's enormous, uncut dick, showing a
bead of precum at the tip.

"Damn, that's impressive," he said. "If I was a queer, I'd want to suck on
it."

"Just the two of us here," the trusty answered, smiling. "All I know is
that my dick is stiff and has no conscience and tells no tales."

The staff sergeant walked down the corridor and flipped a switch.

"Got to turn off the camera first," Jensen said, not knowing that the
control was disabled. Overcome with lust, the guard knelt in front of the
trusty's engorged dick, now fully erect.

* * * *

Over the next two weeks, Jensen and the trusty met in the D block corridor
and repeated the transgression, the pictures and sound captured each
time. The fix was in, and Jensen was the only one who didn't know it.

"You'd better not tell anyone about this," the guard told the trusty one
night. "No one will believe you."

Henry chuckled inwardly, thinking how stupid Jensen was to show his fear.

"If a guard blows a trusty in the middle of the night and no one's there to
see it, I say it never happened, sir," the trusty replied, his tone
deferential as he lied. "If the same guard who sucks the trusty's dick also
kisses the trutsy's ass, that trusty won't want to say anything to anyone."

The trusty smiled, stood tall, and spread his legs while Jenkins knelt
behind him. The Man's hind quarters were those of a rodeo stallion, and the
staff sergeant buried his face and kissed and sniffed. He was in a trance,
and had thrown all caution to the wind.

"Reach around and find the handlebar," Henry said, his tone a seductive
command. "Give it a good feel."

The guard's hungry hand rubbed along the thick shaft, exploring and
squeezing.

"Come on around front, buddy," the trusty cooed. "Look up into my eyes
while you're taking care of what I got."

Jensen complied, massaging Henry's ass and tree-stump legs until he came.

"You're getting pretty good at that," the trusty said afterwards, as he
zipped up his fly. "You've been attacking my dick like a thirsty Man who's
been walking through the desert. Things been building up, I'd say."

His inhibitions gone, Jensen replied.

"I don't know about that," he said, a note of worry in his voice. "There's
something about you."

"Yeah, my big dick and my hard ass," the trusty said, chuckling lightly. "A
couple of the queers here are pretty big. So are just about all of the
guards."

"No way am I gonna suck off any faggot in here," Jensen replied
caustically. "Got no interest in that kind of shit."

"I guess that explains why you've got a rep for being a hardass with them,"
the trusty replied. "And I suppose the guards are too risky."

"Queers can't control themselves," Jensen said. "There are a few guards I'd
go down for, but no way will I put myself in that position."

"I can see that," the trusty replied. "But there are some you like?"

"The reservists from the county sheriff's department and the lumber mill,"
the guard answered. "They're even bigger studs than you are, and that's
saying a lot. But it ain't a-gonna happen."

"Yeah, I understand," Henry replied, sympathetically. "It's look but don't
touch with them, huh? Must be tough for you sometimes."

"I can handle it," Jensen said. "But you're right, it's tough."

"So if you could know that they'd keep it quiet, you'd want to kiss their
asses and take their dicks?"

"In a heartbeat," the guard answered, sealing his fate.

"Nothing like havin' a big military Man's big stiff rod up yer ass, showin'
ya who's boss while another stiff 'ol military dick is down yer throat,"
the trusty said, his voice seductive and his dick stiffening. "Want to get
back down there again?"

Jensen glanced nervously down the corridor, then back at Henry. He nodded
his head, sheepishly.

"Get on your knees and sit back on your legs and take hold your ankles
then," the trusty said, speaking gently but firmly, smiling into the
guard's hungry eyes as he carried out the order. "Open your mouth wide and
look up at me while I piss down your throat."

After Jensen was finished, they stood together and talked some more.

"As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with taking care of you,"
he told Henry. "It's about keeping myself under control. The queers in here
are here because they weren't under control. I don't care why they were
caught; the fact that they were caught is enough. But if no one but the two
of us knows, then all I'm doing is honoring your masculinity."

"You told me that you'd take some dicks from the guards but not the
queers," the trusty said. "You know that one inmate who sucked me off ain't
one. Not like he's in a position to get you caught."

Henry could just about see the wheels turning in Jensen's head. Kyle Brady
was in the brig for going AWOL to visit a girlfriend in another state, and
was doing a year. The inmate was 6 feet tall, stocky, and muscular, and now
that the dam had broken and released long-suppressed inhibitions, Jensen
was interested.

* * * *

The next day, Henry caught up to Brady while he was returning from
lunch. He explained the scheme to entrap Jensen. If he went along with it,
he'd be sprung from the brig within a week, with his rank and back pay
restored.

"Look, bud, I had to make it look like you were sucking me off the other
night," he said. "Trust me, even if you won't go along, that one's not
gonna follow you. You've got my word on it."

Jensen was a secret queer and probably wanted to suck him off, he told
Brady. If he went along with it, he'd make sure that it would be
one-way. And if he liked it, the trusty said, once the plan worked, he'd be
able to get more.

"There won't be any need to beat off, but I'm gonna fix that one with your
cellies," he added.

Brady agreed, and later that day Henry talked to Jensen.

"Brady's a good guy. Maybe too horny for his own good, but he's not queer
and he's not gonna be," the trusty said. "You can suck both of us off, but
not the other way around. And you'll have to go to the Commandant and get
us out of here and turned into guards."

Jensen, now out of control and driven by queer lust, agreed.

* * * *

Two days later, Jensen guided Brady into a room and closed the door.

"I hope ya learned yer lesson," he said.

"Yes sir, I did," the inmate replied, making sure to show fear and
submission, as he'd arranged with Henry.

"Anytime I want to, I can go to the commandant and have you transferred to
the queer section and have years tacked on," Jensen said, his voice brutal
and triumphant. "Fines, forfeiture, and a dishonorable discharge that will
follow you wherever you go."

"Sir, please don't!" Brady replied. "Honest, sir, I learned my lesson. I'm
not queer, sir."

"Hell, I know that," Jensen said, casting a glance below the prisoner's
belt. Henry had arranged to give Brady a tighter pair of pants, and a
circle of rubber to fit around his dick and balls. It trapped the blood in
his dick, giving him a semi-erection outlined in the fabric. "But that
don't matter if I tell the commandant yer a queer."

"Sir, is there anything I can do?" the inmate said, his voice trembling.

"Ya said the magic words," Jensen replied, as he dropped to his knees and
began to rub his hand on the lump in the prisoner's pants. "Just stand
there and I'll take care a-that."

The guard glanced upward and saw Brady smiling downward, his arms across
his chest.

"That feels really good, sir," the inmate said. "I get so damn horny in
here."

"Keep yer mouth shut and play yer cards right, and yer gonna feel good
plenty," the guard said as he felt along the stiff shaft. "Gonna make sure
a-that, bud. Big 'ol dick's gonna get taken care of."

Brady spoke, as the guard unzipped the prisoner's fly and withdrew the
erection, stiffened and lengthened by the band around the base.

"Oh yeah, help a buddy out," he said, breathing hard. "Could you use your
hand on it, sir?"

Jensen complied, using his other hand to feel the inmates ass as it swayed
in and out, and soon he felt the spasms squirting the Man's huge load into
his mouth.

"Thanks, sir!" Brady said after it was over. "Don't worry, I'll keep my
mouth shut."

"That goes for your cellies and all the prisoners except for Henry," the
guard replied. "I've been helping him out too, but that's it. Between the
two of us, we've got eyes and ears everywhere. Screw up, and you'll be
wearing gray with the queers for the next 10 years. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Brady said.

The inmate cautiously raised the subject of the guard's sex attraction, and
what he did about it. "I just help a couple buddies out," Jensen lied. "No
god damn way would I mix it up with any queer. It's not like I'm looking
for it like the god damn faggots in here."

"Yeah, and I suppose it wouldn't look good to ask one of the other guards
if you could help him out," Brady said, adopting Jensen's euphemism.

"No, it wouldn't," Jensen responded. "But once I get you and Henry sprung
and made into guards, I'll have a couple to help out."

Brady marveled inwardly at the guard's self deception.

"Sir, me and Henry might be the only common prisoners who don't hate the
queers," he said. "I don't know about him, but I'm a horn dog and will take
a blowjob where I can find it. Guys have sucked me off since high school,
and I'm glad they're around. Especially you, 'cause I get damn hard up in
here."

"Well, ya definitely get good and hard like a Man ought to," Jensen
replied. "That's one hell of a piece a-meat ya got."

"As long as I don't have to suck it or get screwed, I'm okay," Brady
said. "Nothing against it, but it's not my way, sir."

"No need to worry," the guard said. "Yer dick-suckin' days are over with."