Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2008 20:45:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: justinr_88@yahoo.com
Subject: Doing Hard Time chapter 2

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 . . .