* This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental.
Personal experiences – images, events, memories, and words – flavor my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional.

* Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble.

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Author's Note: I appreciate feedback, from story suggestions to reactions from readers. Hearing from readers is the main reason I post on Nifty. It may take me a while, but I try to respond to all. Email: ColtonAalto@gmail.com.

Special kudos to one of my readers, mike, for his help with the prison life depicted in the story. Thanks much!

TURNING OUT PRETTY BOY

BY COLTON AALTO

CHAPTER THREE – A DISASTROUS FUCKUP

I didn't think I'd miss Aidan in the least. Not having a roommate would be just fine, and I was looking forward to some peace and quiet. Sure the cell was depressing and boring as hell, but it would be better if I never heard another word from farmer boy about how my teen-model looks, surfer-boy blond hair and fuckable bubble butt would make me the biggest target in the entire inmate population.

I was also eager to rid myself of the embarrassing tendency I'd developed toward the end of our stay together: recalling when he got mad at me and the threat he delivered – and getting horned up by it. His words were etched in my memory: "I already would have turned you into a sniveling pussy and dumped so many loads into your fuck chute that your ass would be leaking my spunk for a week." I kept flashing back to the scene at odd times, and I swear I could almost feel him pinning my arm behind me, his muscular bare chest pressed against my back and his hand grabbing my throat. And yeah, my ass tingling as I debated whether his long dong was pressed against my crack or not. Every time I imagined the scene my bone plumped up a bit.

I really needed to whack off a load and get my head screwed on properly.

Despite my initial relief at his departure, it was barely an hour before I began wishing the homely hayseed were still around. While his nonstop banter got hugely annoying after a while, it was better than the cold silence of the jail cell. He was actually a pretty cool dude if you ignored his ravings about his Black Godz, gushing over getting boned by Jamar, or constantly warning me I was about to be a trophy fuck.

I also missed the eye candy that was courtesy of the hard mounds of his ass, but I had to admit I'd enjoyed his bare chest and long dong too, maybe more than his bottom. That realization unnerved me. I tried to convince myself I'd only been gawking at the dude's body – and manhood – because there was nothing else too look at. Still, I couldn't quite get the image of his long, pale pole out of my mind.

We'd never gotten into why he was in the slammer. It was clear he didn't want to talk about it and I didn't particularly want to detail my misdeeds, either. God, I'd been such a dickhead! I could have still been on the street if I'd only played it a little different. But I was stuck for five years.

I didn't know what to think about Aidan's tales of taking up with Jamar and his persistent urging me to do the same thing with a big-dicked bro. The way he seemed in awe of Black men struck me as certifiably crazy. Perhaps he wanted company, another white boy who'd made the same mistake he did. It even crossed my mind that Jamar or one of the other studs put him up to it, although that seemed totally improbable since nobody inside knew anything about me. I sorta put the whole thing out of my mind, at least as much as I could. Sitting in a jail cell all day with nothing to do wasn't a formula for forgetting about my woes or avoiding wild speculations about what was ahead.

The intake cell I was in was needed for some other poor, newly admitted SOBs, so I got moved the day after Aidan left. I didn't go into the general population because the prison was still waiting for records from the court or one of the myriads of schools I'd attended. When you move foster homes like every three months, you leave behind school records everywhere.

My temporary cell was part of solitary confinement. It was tiny, with only one narrow bed. Almost from the moment I was ushered inside, I felt the concrete walls closing in on me. I was depressed, with nothing to do other than contemplate my grim future. It was bad enough even before I listened to Aidan ramble nonstop for two and a half days about the realities of prison life, and downright scary after he patiently explained how'd I be a trophy fuck. I felt the prison getting to me, drilling farther and farther into my head. I was jittery, jumping every time I heard the guards come down the hallway or bang a cell door shut.

At least the room had the advantage of a narrow window that wasn't a sliver at the top of the wall. I could actually see out of it, and by moving the bed I could sit on it and look into the prison yard, the open area where the inmates hung out and exercised. The window opened a few inches too, maybe because that was the only way dudes in solitary got fresh air.

I immediately noticed that the inmates gathering in the yard were always segregated by race. Blacks hung with Blacks, Latinos hung with Latinos, Asians hung with Asians and whites hung with whites. Even the Muslims hung together. The exceptions, though, caught my eye. A few dudes were in different groups and it didn't take long to figure out they might be the jail wives Aidan talked about. Most of them were white boys, quite a few of them thin and slender, although there were a couple of Blacks and Latinos and two Asian boys who could have been twins and were the target of regular abuse. They all seemed submissive, in contrast to the rest of the inmates, most of whom came off as aggressive, dominant studs.

The football player was one of the white guys in a Black group. The dudes he was with exercised and played basketball a lot. He didn't come off as submissive and pussy whipped like the other white boys who were hanging with Blacks, and to the innocent eye it might have looked like they were hanging out in racial harmony. I might have believed that if it hadn't been for Aidan's description of how the dude came to be in the group. I studied him for evidence that he'd been turned out like Aidan said, and the more I looked for clues the more that's what it seemed like. I mean, I never saw him do anything with another dude, but his buddies were particularly fond of slapping him on the ass at every opportunity. I thought he died a little whenever that happened, but I told myself it was probably just my imagination. However, one of his bros, a tall, muscular Black stud, cornered him, grabbing his ass with a big hand. The Black dude openly sneered and his body language shouted a challenge: "Try to stop me, you white pussy."

Inmates in the yard couldn't really see it happen, but from my perch in solitary I saw it. After an uncomfortable few moments during which the dudes stared each other down, the Black stud laughed, slapped jock boy on the ass and whispered something him. He headed out of the yard, with the white boy following a minute or two later, his eyes straight ahead and his jaws clenched. They were gone for like thirty minutes, and when they returned, the group laughed and high-fived the Black stud. I overheard one of them ask loudly, "How was the afternoon ride today, white boy?" Football boy clenched his jaws, angry but resigned to his fate. Like Aidan said, it seemed he was counting the days until he got out.

I saw the prison bitches, too, at least two of them. No mystery with them. One kid was a small, thin Latino guy who was flamboyant and very queenie. He even wore heavy makeup, including mascara. It was obvious anyone could have him, although he expected something in return even if it was only a single cigarette. He was campy and hilarious, although I had the feeling his catty comments resulted in him getting beat up regularly. The bruises on his body seemed to be evidence of that.

The other kid was less obvious, but no less a target of the inmates milling around the yard. He was a diminutive redhaired kid who seemed to enjoy the limelight. Cute, with a small button nose and skinny limbs.

At the other extreme were studs who I assumed were the Black Godz Aidan talked about. It was probably only a consequence of enduring days of his incessant chatter about Black alphas, and maybe it was all in my head, but it seemed as if half a dozen dudes stood out as prison royalty. They had awesome ripped bodies, carried themselves proudly, and conveyed a sense of command and confidence. I watched them in fascination. The Godz title sorta fit. They ruled the yard. I found myself wondering what they'd be like in bed, although there wasn't much mystery. Dominant, masculine, expecting to be serviced and getting what they wanted. That's what Aidan wanted me to do. Give it up to one of them and become his bitch.

Why the fuck was I even thinking about that? Too horny, I suppose. The prison was playing with my mind.

Unlike the close quarters I'd shared with Aidan, if I took basic precautions in solitary it would be easy enough to pull out my pud and whack off a load. I should have. Maybe it would have taken my mind off sex. After hearing Aidan talk about it for two days, I was fixated on it. For whatever reason, I didn't jerk off. I was actually sorta enjoying the sex-charged atmosphere, even if it was all in my mind. It was like edging – getting close but not climaxing.

Late in the afternoon, I saw Aidan with a dude who had to be Jamar. He was an impressive stud, and Aidan was like a puppy dog, following him around and jumping to do whatever he wanted. The hayseed really was crazy, although weirdly it seemed like he was the happiest dude in the yard. I wondered what Jamar thought of his ass tattoo and visualized the Black stud making good use of Aidan's lily-white bubble butt, sliding his black bone deep inside the white boy's fuck hole, grabbing his neck, and slam fucking his boi pussy. I could almost see Aidan's long white rod, erect and spewing cum as Jamar buttboned him, and the Black stud growling, "I own you bitch. Why you take so long to get your sorry ass back in here?"

Shit! Was it possible that Aidan had intentionally fucked up, so that he got thrown back in the slammer? Maybe Jamar ordered him to do it or maybe he was hungry to feel the Black God's mammoth prick in his ass and take his load. Not something a straight boy who was only gay for the stay would ever do, but he told me he kinda liked it inside better.

I was left speculating as the two men disappeared from the yard, Aidan first, closely followed by Jamar. Perhaps they were off to some isolated corner to fuck. Three days ago I would have envied Jamar. Now I wasn't so sure. Maybe I envied Aidan.

Fuck! That was idiotic. I needed to keep my head screwed on straight.

I hadn't slept well during my nights in intake and didn't sleep much better in solitary. In the middle of the night I bolted up suddenly, gasping for breath. I'd been in the middle of a nightmare where something was choking me and I was suffocating despite struggling to free myself. I forced myself to calm down, the vividness of the dream gradually dissipating.

I looked down to see a load of fresh cum splattered on my abs. With no roommate I'd taken the opportunity to sleep naked because it was so damn hot, and now I'd liberally painted my chest and abs with ribbons of white spunk. I didn't bother to clean up the mess, instead rolling onto my side, letting my load slowly seep onto the sheets. Fuck! I was unnerved. Not from having a wet dream. That wasn't surprising, particularly because I'd gone so long since getting off. What unnerved me was that in the dream Aidan's long pale dong had been choking me. I'd seen him aim his manhood at the toilet for two and a half days, but in the dream I was sitting on the toilet and he was aiming his prick at my mouth, jamming it down my throat. The dream was so real that I could almost taste his tool on my tongue.

The fucking prison was getting to me. The place was in my head. I wondered if this was what it felt like to gradually go crazy.

My second day in solitary was more of the same. The space seemed tighter, the walls seemed closer together, and the occasional sounds that interrupted the silence seemed more jarring. I felt a sense of desperation rising. I wasn't cut out to be a prisoner, but here I was, locked inside for years.

I began to wonder if Aidan brainwashed me, because even though I'd relieved my balls in the wet dream, I was fixated on how the Black Godz dripped sex appeal as they milled around the yard. From a distance they were daunting, which meant up close they were probably totally intimidating. Physically impressive, in control, dominant. I couldn't get away from Aidan's comments about Black men being superior, and part of me began to agree as I watched the show. Aidan was right. Black studs were the alpha males.

What the fuck? I had way too much time on my hands and needed a break. I forced myself to tear my eyes away. At least I was getting moved into gen pop the next day. Maybe that would snap me out of the funk I'd been in.

Shortly after lunch, a couple of guards took me to the prison school to collect some books. Apparently inmates like me who hadn't graduated from high school were assigned to work on their GEDs instead of working full time in the prison laundry or some other mind-dulling job.

On the way, we went through a crowded hallway, and as Aidan predicted, I attracted plenty of attention. Way too much. The scene devolved into whistles and catcalls, all directed at me. It was loud, the packed passageway was hot and claustrophobic and I was on edge after four nights of not sleeping well and worrying about what was ahead. The inmates looked like military recruits or a group straight out of the 1950s – short hair and clean shaven – and that only made me feel more out of place, like I was on a different planet.

I was close to panicking when a massive hand grabbed my ass and I heard a deep voice my ear, "Hey, pretty boy, you gotta damn nice ass. I could use a tight hole. You gonna give your daddy this sugar?"

I whirled around to see a big Black dude leering at me. His grin taunted me, daring me to challenge him, knowing I was no match for him. He was like a massive, sleek black panther suddenly cornering a helpless prey. Time seemed to accelerate and, almost like fireworks exploding, each of my senses went into overload. They warned me I was facing exactly the man I'd been dreading, without knowing who he was. A man whose animal magnetism could and would easily overwhelm me. I felt helpless, overcome by a surge of sheer terror.

Things collapsed all at once as Aidan's oft-repeated phrase echoed in my mind: fight or fuck. As much as I'd tried to discount what he said, seeing the white football star reduced to a puppy dog who'd become a complete pussy left little doubt about what I was up against. I snapped. That's the only way I can describe it. I threw myself at the Black dude, fists flailing, and yelled, "Go to hell, asshole! Don't touch me you fucking faggot!" One of my fists caught him in the nose, and blood spurted everywhere.

As messy and startling as the blood was, that wasn't the worst of it, not by a long shot. I added the N-word to my diatribe. Yeah. I really said it. "Don't touch me you fucking faggot n**ger."

I knew I'd screwed up before it was even out of my mouth. I'd messed up a lot during my 18 years, but this might have been the most idiotic thing I'd ever done. I don't know what came over me. Brain-dead stupidity, I suppose. It was inexplicable because I'd never used the word before and as a matter of principal rejected dudes who did. Maybe it was days of not knowing what to expect and trepidation about the future, coupled with the way his presence overwhelmed me, but still, I hurled the ultimate insult at a Black stud and bloodied his nose to boot, even if that was only the result of an unlikely, one-in-a-thousand blow. It was like a mouse taking on a bull moose but drawing first blood.

Of course, I'd also done it in front of a broad cross section of gen pop, not to mention a dozen guards. If the ripped, muscular stud who I punched didn't get to me first, every Black inmate in the prison would be aiming at me. I'd painted a target on my back so fucking big that it would be there during my entire stint in jail. Assuming, of course, that I survived that long, and the odds of that were suddenly much longer.

In the chaos that followed, the guards reacted quickly, pulling me away and hustling me down a long hallway and into an office. My wrists were handcuffed behind me and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I caused any more trouble, I'd regret it for the rest of my days on earth and, presumably, into the afterlife. If there was one.

Shortly after that a beefy officer stormed in, his face flushed. He looked angry. His name tag read Captain Murphy, and he was apparently in charge of the prison guards. He glared at me and snarled in a harsh voice, "Sit the fuck down, Sunshine." It wasn't an offer, it was a demand. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I opted not to register a complaint about the nickname. The timing was all wrong.

I followed his order, taking a seat in an ancient wooden chair across from his messy desk, even though my arms were still cuffed behind me. The desk was institutional green, and the walls might have been the same color, although it had been so long since they'd been painted that they'd drifted into an anonymous green-gray-brown. Like the rest of the prison, Murphy's office had a few tiny windows at the top of one wall, covered by bars. Bars designed to keep people in and not out. It would be a long time before I saw a window without them.

Murphy sat in his squeaky desk chair and, his jaws clenched, said, "I'm gonna set a few things straight for you, Sunshine. First, I don't give a flying fuck about you. O'Rourke and Ryan warned me about you, but I see they were downplaying what a shitbrain you are. You've managed to cause a near riot even before you've set foot in gen pop. That's an impressive record I doubt will ever be broken. Frankly, it better not be on my watch."

I interrupted, beginning to weave together my usual tale of woe, hoping against hope that it hadn't lost its magic. I didn't get far before Murphy growled, "Shut the fuck up, Sunshine. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Tell your sob story to a toilet. I'm gonna explain the way things operate here and I'm only gonna say it once. You better listen close.

"First, I don't give a damn how horrible your childhood was. Walk down the hallway and every resident has a story as bad or worse than yours. Your shit upbringing isn't an excuse, so get that out of your head. From here on out, I don't want to hear another word about it from you, and neither do my men or anyone else who works here. Understand?"

I took a deep breath. I'd been deprived of my best card and things didn't look good.

"Second, I don't give a shit whether the other residents are hassling you. Hassling you about sex or anything else. I don't even care if they fuck you in the ass. Let me say that again in case you weren't listening. I don't care if they fuck you in the ass. I don't care if they do it repeatedly and rip your white ass to shreds. I don't care if they do it on a stage in the yard in front of the entire fucking population. I don't care if they laugh and brag about it. I don't care if everyone in the joint laughs about it, including my guards.

"You see a pattern here? I don't care. Let me repeat that so your simple brain can get it. I don't give a damn about you, I don't care.

"What I care about is keeping the peace, making sure nothing here gets out of hand. You don't mean piss to me. If you walked into some kid's shiv tomorrow and bled to death on the floor, I wouldn't shed a tear. All it would mean is that I'd have to file a goddamn report and I'd be rid of a major fuckbrain."

My eyes widened at his bluntness.

He looked toward the door we'd entered and I followed his eyes, realizing with a start that the dude I'd assaulted was leaning against the wall with a bemused smile on his face. From his attitude and body language you'd have thought he fucking owned the place. He had a tissue stuffed in his nose to stop the bleeding but didn't seem all that upset. Murphy was madder. I was surprised the lanky Black stud was so calm about things. I would have expected he'd be threatening to kill me and several guards would be struggling to restrain him.

Pointing at him, Murphy said, "Third, Jaxx helps keep the peace around here. Nobody gives him lip, everybody falls in when he gives the word. So he and I get along pretty well. Pretty fucking well. I help him with a few small things he wants and he helps me keep a lid on the joint. He and I understand one another." The Captain gave the Black hunk a small smile that was returned by a knowing smirk. It belatedly occurred to me that the dude was one of Aidan's Black Godz. He might even have been the most impressive one. I'd seen him in the yard and remembered his tall, chiseled body. He wasn't a body builder like some of the inmates, but up close, he was hard as a rock and his knotted muscles were eye catching. The dude could turn me into a pretzel with one hand tied behind his back.

"Let me tell you something, Sunshine. Pussy boys who take it up the ass can be pretty damn helpful around here. Damn useful. Turns out that horny, oversexed teenaged punks living too close together with nothing to do all day is a recipe for tension. Too many fights, too many guys trying to show how tough they are. But if they're getting their rocks off regularly, things are quieter, with a lot fewer problems."

I was puzzled by the suddenly turn in the conversation. He was obviously referring to the prison bitches I'd seen in the yard, but I didn't see the connection between them and my incident with Jaxx. I wasn't a flamboyant gay queen and didn't take it up the ass. That should have been apparent when I told the stud to get off me after he grabbed my butt.

But wait... Murphy was implying that I was a prison bitch. Or would be. Aidan suggested there was a risk of ending up there, warning me about getting caught in a gangbang after which the rest of the inmates would take it for granted that my ass was fair game for anyone. Murphy and the other guards would be perfectly happy if I got turned out and ended up as a prison bitch. In fact, from what he just said, they'd probably encourage it. Between the guards' attitudes and the catcalls and whistles I'd heard in the hallway, I was well on my way.

The Captain stood up from his desk and walked over to my chair, staring down at me with his beefy arms folded across his chest. His chest hair poked out over the top of his white T-shirt. "You want to know something else, Sunshine? I don't like you very much. Fuck, I don't like you one bit. I've seen your type before. Spoiled to the bone. Used to getting your way all the time just because you're pretty. All it takes is giving some bleeding heart a sob story or a sorry little look. Is that right? Blinking those blue eyes and fluttering those long eyelashes always works, doesn't it? You're too damn pretty and you've been living off your looks for too long. Your judge's sentencing report says that. But your looks aren't going to take you one inch with me or any of my men. In fact, you are about to find out that in a place like this, being pretty can be a big disadvantage. You, son, are fresh out of luck."

Shit. Murphy was echoing what Aidan warned me about: my looks were a disadvantage. I was up shit creek without a paddle.

The Captain leaned over me, resting one of his thick, hairy arms on each arm of my chair. With my wrists handcuffed behind me, I felt trapped. My heart was beating hard and fear was beginning to well inside me. My pretty boy, sob story act had run its course and I had no cards to play. My ass was a trophy that seemingly the entire population would want to score. He growled, "Now get the fuck out of my office, Sunshine. You cause any kind of disturbance again and your life is gonna be hell on earth. Capiche?"

I nodded, blinking in surprise, still stunned by what had gone down. Another guard pulled me to my feet and roughly hustled me toward the door. Apparently the handcuffs were on to stay, at least until I got back to solitary. For all I knew they might stay on for the night and be joined by the ankle shackles I'd worn the first night.

Despite everything, I was unable to keep my eyes from fixing on Jaxx as I walked by. He gave me a smile that I would have taken as friendly but for the unfortunate and embarrassing detail that moments earlier I'd hurled the N-word at him and given him a bloody nose. He was suddenly the least sinister man in the room. He was the hottest man in the room too, by far. Maybe the hottest man in the entire place. Grinning, he whispered, "No worries, Sunshine."

My eyes went wide in disbelief.

It wasn't only Jaxx's comment that captured my attention. There was also something familiar but strange at the same time. I was only inches away from him, and I was overwhelmed by a strong sensation of his dominance, control and yes, superiority. It clicked now. I'd felt it in the hallway – faintly – and my surprise at the sensation was part of what unnerved me and caused me to snap. But now, with only the stud nearby, it was stronger and more intense. The cues were weird; the feeling was at the fringes of each of my senses, and I could practically taste it, feel it, smell it, and touch it. And yeah, see it – the stud's ripped body was amazing. The combination was overwhelming and compelling and left me weak-kneed.

Fucking A! Aidan was right. The Black Godz were real, Jaxx was one of them, and I was reacting to his powerful aura.

The sensation eased as the guards roughly shoved me into the hallway and back to solitary. But the experience was etched in my mind. Who knew there were men like Jaxx?

I spent the rest of the day, my final in solitary, gazing out the window at the yard. And yeah, searching for Jaxx. He didn't spend a lot of time there and didn't particularly hang with any group. He seemed to know everybody and got along well with everybody. I saw him break up an altercation between two Black inmates before it turned into a full-fledged fight. He spent more time chatting with Jamar than anyone else, and Aidan hung around the entire time like a happy puppy.

The more I watched him, the more I was drawn to him. I admired his looks but also the way he carried himself and his overall demeanor. He was calm, confident and in charge. Powerful and masculine, with a body that looked like it was chiseled from obsidian. A Black God, yes.

For some reason, my mind cleared and my situation suddenly seemed simple. I was, first and foremost, a survivor. With the cards I'd been deal, I hadn't made it through 18 years without that instinct. Being a survivor means being flexible, changing with the times, and reacting when the need arises. It was obvious that was what I had to do now. I'd had a nice run playing the pretty boy, squeezing as much sympathy from adults as I could. Time to move on; I could never go back. What would a survivor do? Roll with the punches, accept what you had to, take advantage of what you could.

I knew what I'd do. It wasn't that I had to do it, but I wanted to do it. I'd never particularly thought about myself as gay or straight, although I suppose you would have concluded I was bisexual given that I'd chased pussy and nailed guys at the same time. I chased pussy mostly because I thought I was supposed to, while getting it on with guys had always been more exciting, maybe only because it was sorta breaking the rules and there was something vaguely illicit about it. That didn't really matter now. For the next years, I'd be in a different world where sex with women wasn't an option. I wouldn't really miss cunts. I wouldn't be celibate either. Nope. My looks and my ass eliminated that option. I wasn't going to fight it. Instead, I'd make the best of the situation. Despite resisting Aidan's advice for days, now it was obvious I needed to follow it. Jaxx would take what he wanted, but I'd made it damn easy for him take me.

The more I thought about giving it up to him, the more I was certain it was my best option. Somewhat surprisingly, it gave me a fucking boner. I was more turned on by the thought of sex with him than I'd ever been with any other guy or girl. I understood it would be a one-way street. Sex with the stud wouldn't be reciprocal. No kissing. No cuddling. Somehow, that excited me. I wanted it.

As I look back, I was still intoxicated by the sensation of his dominance, control, and superiority that I'd experienced in Murphy's office and before that in the hallway. I could almost smell it and taste it. I was obsessed, drawn to him inexorably like a magnet, and I was hungry for more, hungry to be close to him and... to submit to him. That's what he wanted – what he demanded – and I was desperate to give in to him, to submit and feel the full force of his dominance. I suppose armchair psychoanalysts would speculate I secretly desired the father figure that I'd never had growing up, but that wasn't it. I wasn't looking for an older man to guide me. I wanted a dominant stud to subjugate me.

The question was how to make it happen.

I could hope that he'd make another pass at me and make sure I responded totally different. I'd let him know he could have his way with me. But he might or might not make another attempt, and even if it did it might not happen for weeks or months. In the meantime I'd have to fend off the advances of other inmates, not to mention suffer the consequences of my meltdown in the hallway.

I should get my hair cut. Yep, a buzz cut for me. When Aidan described the prison's new policy of permitting the inmates to have longer hair, I'd been happy because my long blond surfer locks were one of my calling cards. They highlighted my rebellious side and were damn effective when I was trying to beg someone to cut me slack. Thugs didn't have long hair, but innocent boys might. However, it was apparent my hair wouldn't do me any favors inside the joint.

For the first time since I'd been busted, I slept like a baby, although I woke during the night in the middle of an intense wet dream, the second in a row. As soon as I came to, my cock exploded, shooting hot cum all over my chest and stomach. Some of it even spurted onto my face and into my hair. I couldn't remember ever having back-to-back wet dreams, but I'd creamed myself two nights in a row.

This time I wasn't dreaming about having Aidan's cock wedged in my throat. I was dreaming of getting buttfucked by Jaxx.

In the beginning of the dream a kid who I'd fucked back in school appeared, ready for me to abuse his twink twat again. He was a nerdy guy, into chess club and stuff like that, and when I first met him I instinctively knew he was gay. I befriended him long enough to coax him into sucking my cock and making him swallow. After I'd spermed his mouth he started to leave but I decided I wasn't letting him off that easy. I was still horny so I told him I was just getting started and demanded that he drop his pants and bend over for me. Like a puppy he did what I demanded and, feeling a bit cocky about how easy it was to control him, I got a little carried away and slam fucked his pink, puckered hole. I couldn't be rough with girls, but I was with chess boy, even getting a little sadistic, slapping his ass until I knew it had to sting.

He later admitted it was his first time. I didn't give a shit and essentially ignored him, the same as I'd done with a couple dozen girls, a string of gay boys and a few straight ones, too. The kid wasn't deterred. Over time, he made it clear he'd suck me off and put his legs in the air for me whenever I wanted, and not only did I not have to reciprocate, I didn't have to pretend he was my friend or even speak to him.

The idea that I could treat the dude like shit, dominate him and fuck him whenever I wanted – and do it roughly – was intriguing. It was too good of a deal to pass up, so I took him up on the offer. I'd text him at odd hours and tell him to get his faggot ass to wherever I was and an hour later send him on his way tasting my nut and with a load or two of my sphlooge leaking from his boi pussy. I got off on abusing him and treating him like shit, knocking him around and making him beg for my dick. Even that wasn't good enough for me. I ordered him to bring booze and dope, which I enjoyed while making him kiss my feet while I slapped him around. I eventually demanded that he pay me on top of everything else. He did, and while I didn't connect the dots at the time, I'd inadvertently turned myself into a whore. I was a gay hustler. To my disappointment, the gig ended when I got busted. I'd been a complete asshole to him.

In my dream I was fucking the kid but I kept worrying that someone was about to catch us. All at once Jaxx appeared and chess boy disappeared. Well, he didn't totally disappear because I turned into him. I became the submissive boy, willing to let a man rough fuck me until my ass was raw and slap me around until my brains were banging inside my head.

My cock was still hard and wet and I got down on my knees and begged Jaxx to fuck me, just the way I'd forced chess boy to do many times. Sneering, he told me he didn't want my faggot ass, but I pleaded, telling him to plow me however hard he wanted and that I'd do anything for him. I was desperate, feeling I had to have his cock and panicky over the possibility that he might not fuck me. I babbled about how I'd worship him and do whatever he wanted.

He gave me a long look but finally slid his big black boner into my ass. It felt wonderful and my own orgasm started to churn inside my balls. All of a sudden, we were in the middle of a big room – a gym I think – and Jaxx was still fucking me but now there were thousands of guys watching his big black horse cock slide in and out of my tight little hole. I didn't want anyone to see him fucking me but couldn't bear the thought of the stud stopping. Then he shoved both of his hands into my ass along with his cock and started to push my guts out of the way so that there was nothing inside me other than his big dick, which had swelled up so much that it completely filled me. I woke shooting my load with that vision firmly planted in my mind.

I stayed still for a long minute, reliving the excitement I felt from Jaxx boning me in my dream. I felt a lingering sense of his dominance and control, as if I were addicted to him already and needed a fix of the intoxicating sensation I got when I was around him. I'd been certain when I went to bed what I wanted but was even more convinced now.

I smeared my cum over my chest and abs, sucking some of it off my fingers, before rolling over and letting the remnants soak onto the sheets. They were still crusty from the load I'd blown the night before. I kept licking my fingers and couldn't resist reaching behind me and sliding my big finger into my virgin hole. I eased my ass open and gradually inserted a second and then a third finger.

I'd never had anything in my ass before, other than a couple of tongues when I forced kids to rim me. I began thrusting my fingers in and out of my hole, recalling the sensation from my dream of Jaxx's big prick pounding my ass. As I plunged my fingers into my butt, my dick hardened again, although it had never really softened completely after spewing spunk in my wet dream.

I didn't start finger fucking myself in anticipation of having my cherry popped, but that's what it soon became as I played with my prostate and imagined what a stiff shaft would feel like inside me. A stiff black shaft. Jaxx's tool. I fantasized about his hard, ripped body being on top of me, his weight pressuring me as he took possession of me with his fuck pole and used me to pleasure himself.

When my cock got mostly hard, I started dry humping the sheets, not that they were dry after my load seeped into them. Suddenly, there was a noise as a guard opened the tiny window on the cell door so he could peer into the cell and check on me. I barely got my fingers out of my asshole in time but didn't have time to scramble under the sheets. My bare butt was clearly exposed in the dim light.

I heard a smirking laugh. It was Ryan, one of the guards who I'd pissed off the day I was imprisoned. "Nice, Sunshine. Face down and ass up just like the last time I saw you, but now your butt is bare. Advertising the goods? Practicing raising that ass so dicks will slide farther into it? I always knew you were a little faggot."

I didn't give him the pleasure of a response, but he wasn't done. "C'mon, Sunshine. Wriggle that little tush for me. I know you're just itching to get a dick inside it." He was unnervingly close to the truth, but I continued to ignore him. He ran his nightstick across the bars on the window, laughing. It was apparent my standing with the guards hadn't improved.

Once he was gone I quickly went back to playing with my hole and humping the bed. I don't remember how long I was at it – not all that long considering I'd already blown a load – but I got close, edged myself for a while and then pushed myself over the edge, my cock pulsing and my asshole contracting around my fingers as my nut seeped out of my bone. I kept my fingers in my hole for several minutes before pulling them out. I didn't bother to clean myself or move. Instead, I drifted off to sleep happy and contented for the first time during my stay in the prison.

I'd never wanted to get buttboned by a dude, but now I was ready. However, lingering in the stale air of the cell was the question of whether Jaxx was ready to do me.

TO BE CONTINUED

Author's Note: Sorry for the long build up; I promise what you've been waiting for will happen in Chapter 4, and for that matter, the rest of the story... My plan is to post chapter 4 in a week or two, luck willing.

Reactions or feedback? Please send them along! Coltonaalto@gmail.com

My other Nifty stories can be found in the author index (listed as Colton) using this link: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton. You can also locate them by searching for "Colton Aalto" using the Nifty Archive Search button, or by following this link: https://search.niftyarchives.org/?keywords=colton+aalto&sort=Relevance (I like this link better). I jump around in different Nifty categories, so you'll find a bit of everything.

I've also recently published a book, "Lance & Leo". https://www.amazon.com/dp/1590217314/ Enjoy!

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