Dillon

I Will Not Cry

I will not cry!

I will not cry!

I will not cry!

This is my mantra. I will not forget it. For the next two years, I will live it. I will repeat it every morning when I get up and each night as I lay down. It will be the prayer I offer at every meal. It will be my strength in the dark moments.

I will not cry!

I walk down the cold corridor alone. Even though there is a guard in front of me and one behind me; I am alone. It is comical that they believe it takes two of them to walk me to the dining hall. I'm thirteen years-old and ninety-two pounds [42 kg]. They are each twice my weight and twice as strong as me. With walls of concrete and steel and with doors double locked, there is nowhere for me to go. They're not here because they're afraid I'll run or that I'll cause trouble. They're here to break me. They want to make me cry. But I will not cry.

I try to walk with my head high. I'd like to say that my expression is proud. In fact, I doubt it is. I imagine I look like shit. I certainly feel like shit. My whole body is sore. My ribs hurt, my legs are tired. Mostly it's my jaw and my ass that hurt. No, that's not fair, they don't hurt. My jaw aches and my throat is as dry as sand. My ass burns.

I imagine I look scared. I imagine I look like I'm in shock. I imagine I look ashamed. These are certainly all things that I feel. There are times when my eyes are wet and my mouth trembles, but I focus on holding myself together. I will not cry.

Underneath those other feelings is a kernel of hate. I like it there and it is something I will cultivate. For the next two years I will nurse that feeling. I will do all I can to nourish it so that it grows within me. It will be the emotion that keeps me strong and that keeps me sane.

We stop at the door to the dining hall; Tex hits the button on the mic strapped on his shoulder and calls to the control room to have the lock released, looking up at the security camera as he does. The lock buzzes; Tex turns his key; the door opens. Then, just as I go past him, he leans in, squeezes my ass and says, "You sure were a great fuck, pretty boy!" That gives me a jolt. I never expected it. For a moment, I almost lose it and I know that's what he wants. Despite my size, I want to turn and punch his face in, but instead I keep my expression frozen.

If I can stay strong through what comes next, I know I will be able to stay strong no matter what happens. For some reason having the eyes of all the other boys on me, knowing that they know what's been done to me, seems more than I can bear. It's odd, when I think about it, because most of them have been through this as well.

The room goes quiet as I walk in. I can feel their eyes on me even though I don't look. I feel my face redden in shame. For a moment I want to drop my head but I catch myself and keep it raised up. I try to look strong, I try to look like I don't care, but I know they can see how badly shaken I am. It some ways it doesn't matter. It's the fact that they see that I'm trying that matters. It matters that I don't cry.

I expect some remarks from the older boys. After all, I know many of them would love the chance to do to me what guards did. They've told me so. I know that they are looking at me, imagining me stripped, pinned to the floor, one of guards on me, fucking away. I imagine that more than a few are boning up; their hands massaging their cocks; their mouths watering. I expect if I look, I'll see them leering. So, I'm surprised when I hear nothing. Still, I keep my head forward and walk to the serving line.

The Chairman is across the room, back against the wall. Tex and Mex, the guards that escorted me here, will saunter over. There the three of them will watch me. They will sneer at me and laugh. The day-shift guards are clueless.

My hands are shaking as I grab a tray from the rack by the serving room door. I put the tray down quickly on the serving line so that no one sees. I slide it along and blindly take whatever is handed to me. I don't care what it is; I know I won't eat it. I have no appetite. I pause in front of the drink dispenser. I'm desperate for something to drink; orange juice, water, milk, I don't care, but I dare not reach for a glass. I know that my hands are shaking so badly, I will make a mess and it will show. So, I pick up my tray and move back into the dining hall.

If I could sit by myself I would but we all have assigned spaces. Instead I head toward my spot on the end of one of the long tables. I glance at the side of the room reserved for the older boys and I'm surprised at what I see. There's no leering. I see only anger and sympathy. The biggest of the boys actually gives me a small nod of support. I'm surprised at how that one small gesture affects me. I have to look away quickly and repeat my mantra. I will not cry!

Manny, who sits across from me, glances at my tray, then hops up. He's back in a moment with a glass of orange juice.

"Hey esé!" he says as he slides the juice over to me. The boys at our table are pretending not to look. I realize that they're as uncomfortable as I am.

I think for a moment about how to get the glass to my lips without it shaking, then I think Fuck it! and just go for it. I bring the glass up with both hands and chug the juice down, feeling a small bit dribble from my lips, feeling the cool liquid wash the taste of cock from my mouth. I return the glass to the table and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Manny slides the glass over to Turtle sitting to my right.

"Hey, cabron, go get him more," he insists, nodding toward the drink dispenser.

"Fuck you, Manny," is Turtle's reply, but I'm thankful that he gets up anyway.

"Pinche gringo culeros!" Manny is leaning over and whispering to me but looking at Tex, Mex, and the Chairman. The three guards stand together and are watching me, smirking and laughing like girls. "Somebody needs to fuck them bitches up!"

I turn away, eyes on my food, but I know I won't eat anything. I have no appetite. Instead I focus on the juice that Turtle has brought me.

When I look up again, one of the day-shift guards catches my eye. Most of the day-shift guys seem not to notice me, but this one's looking at me intently. There's something about his look that keeps my attention. It's not a leering look like the Chairman and his two lapdogs; it's a quizzical look, like he knows something's going on but is not sure what. He looks from me, to the Chairman and his group, and back again. He's new, or at least I'm told he's new. I've only been here a week and so I don't know who's new and who's not. He was part of my intake. In fact, he's the one that did my cavity search. (Fuck, who'd ever guess I'd learn what a cavity search is?) He actually apologized when he did it. The rest just treated me like 3; I don't know 3; like I wasn't a person; like I was a thing.

My ass is feeling squishy and my underwear feels wet. I wonder if it's soaking through my jumper and that everyone will see the wet spot when I stand. The guards that did this to me wouldn't mind. It'd be just one more way to humiliate me. I feel my face redden again.

The fact that I'm even in this place is a shock. I'd never really been in trouble before, just some school truancy stuff. It's just me and my mom, and with her working, I didn't always feel the need to go to school. One day a couple of us were just hanging out and someone broke out some bottle rockets. I never realized that a bottle rocket could actually start a fire. And, although no one was hurt, it did create one hell of a blaze.

Mom couldn't afford a lawyer for me, not that they can do much in juvie court anyway. But it's hard to believe it wouldn't have helped. Had we known what sort of punishment was being considered, we might have gotten one. It also didn't help that we didn't have money for restitution. Instead, both the length of my sentence and where I got placed came as a complete surprise.

I was scared shitless when I first arrived. I kept imagining myself being the bitch for some muscle bound guy with a ten inch dong. All-in-all, it's not been that bad. I have my own cell in a pod reserved for other kids about my age. We're all thirteen or fourteen. There are twenty-three cells in our pod, three of them are empty. There are three other pods where the older boys stay. They keep us apart except in the dining hall.

The pod is arranged in a circle with a control room where our pod joins the rest of the prison. Cells are concrete on three sides. The side that faces in is all bars; that way the guard in the control room can see in all the cells. The cells are on two levels; twelve on the bottom, eleven on the top. Where the twenty-fourth cell would be is the isolation room. It's supposed to be used for a kid who's out of control. It's all concrete walls with a solid, steel door. It has a floor made of a large rubber mat. Most importantly, at least from the Chairman's point of view, it's sound proof. I'm in cell nineteen on the top tier, five cells down from isolation.

Integrating with the other kids in the pod was really pretty easy. For one thing, I wasn't out to be top dog. I just wanted to quietly do my time, not get my ass kicked, and maybe even get out early. And, to be honest, I'm smaller than almost anyone else. But the big thing that made it easy was that we all have a common enemy, the guards. Or at least the night-shift guards. And, not just any night-shift guards, but the Chairman and his crew; Tex and Mex.

It was my third night here when I met Tex. It was just past midnight, just past shift change. One of the first things the guards do when they start their shift is to walk past the cells and make sure all's in order. I had slept through it the first two times, but this time something woke me. I could make out his silhouette as he stood in front of my cell. Then his flashlight flipped on and blinded me.

"Oooo, my, my. Do we have a pretty one here!" he said in a half whisper. "Umm 3; look at that silky blond hair and them gorgeous blue eyes. Oh boy, wait til the others catch a glimpse of you. Why, I bet you're as bald as the day you were born. Fuck pretty boy, know what I'm going to do to that pert little ass of yours?" he asked. Then he took his night stick from his belt, put it between his legs like it was his cock, and thrust it back and forth between the bars of my cell.

I was rigid with fear, my guts twisted, and my brain was frozen. I couldn't think what to do or what to say, so I just laid there and watched. Then he chuckled and walked on.

In the morning I got to see why he was called Tex. It was the shiny, black cowboy boots he always wore. They weren't regulation but no one seemed to mind. He wasn't an overly large man, but he was muscular. He had a large black mustache that he loved to comb. He leered at me and made kissing noises as I walked past on the way to breakfast.

The dining hall was quiet that morning. Even the older boys didn't have much to say. I'd catch them looking at me but they'd look away whenever I did.

"I hear Tex was at your cell last night?" Manny said when we had settled in with our breakfast. The other boys from my pod kept their eyes down, eating quietly.

I glanced at the others curiously. Clearly they knew something I didn't. "Yeah! That was fucking scary," I replied, turning back to Manny.

Manny studied me for a bit. "Look esé, there's something I need to tell you, but I'm not sure how much you wanna hear. Some kids wanna know; some kids don't."

For the rest of breakfast I sat in shock as Manny explained. Each time he paused, he asked if I wanted to hear more. Each time, I'd nod. What he told me scared the shit out of me. It was my worst nightmare. I did my best to listen, but a lot of it went by me.

I think that like anyone, I searched frantically for some way out, some way I could escape what was planned for me. There must be something I could say or do, someone I could tell, some bargain I could strike. But all along there was a rational side of me that told me nothing could be done. It was going to happen. It had happened to everyone sitting at the table. If they couldn't find a way out, why did I think I would? I was locked in a cell, stuffed in prison. There was no one to tell; there was nowhere to go; there was no one who could help me.

Despite how panicky I felt, at some point I accepted what I was being told. And, I learned to accept Manny's attitude toward it; come through it with your self-respect intact. Everyone knew it was unavoidable. You didn't lose respect just because it was your turn; you lost respect if you didn't take it like a man. My turn was last night.

The muffled voices and laughter from the control room told me it was shift change. I got up one last time to pee; trying to make sure my bladder was empty so that I didn't piss myself. Then I tied my pony tail back in a knot behind my head. I tried not to but I couldn't help looking, hoping one of the three wasn't there. I'd hoped that maybe one of them would call in sick. After all, it only happened when the three were on shift together. My heart sunk when I saw them, chatting with the evening-shift and getting their briefing before their shift started.

It was the Chairman who came and got me. Tex would man the control room and watch on the video monitors. He'd also be there to warn Mex and the Chairman over the radio if someone came to the pod. That rarely happened, but as long as someone was in the control room, it wouldn't raise suspicion. The Chairman would relieve him when he was done. The Chairman always went first. It was said he didn't like sloppy seconds.

All activity in the pod is recorded, that way the bosses can see what goes on. But, they only look at the recording if there's trouble. Tex would delete the night's recordings at the end of the shift and copy the recordings from the night before in their place. Unless someone looked closely, they'd never notice that the date stamp was wrong and that the guards on the video didn't match who was listed as on duty. They were always careful enough that no kid needed to go to the infirmary.

The Chairman walked along the upper tier making sure all was quiet. I could see him as he left the control room, walking slowly past each cell. He walked past me once to complete his rounds, then came back.

I was sitting up on the edge of my bed waiting for him. He called over the radio for my door to be opened. "Let's go Carver." As I stood to leave, he told me to grab my jumper as I'd go straight to breakfast from the isolation cell.

I turned and gathered my jumper which was lying on the end of my bed and pulled on the terry-cloth slippers that serve us as shoes. I wanted to run, I wanted to hide, I wanted to beg to be left alone, but I didn't. I knew the eyes of every boy were on me as I made the short walk down the corridor to the isolation room. The Chairman turned his key in the lock and I walked in.

The Chairman is a pig of a man. We guess he weighs three hundred pounds [140 kg]. He's the kind of guy whose shirts are always stained under the arms. I was told his cock is short, but fat. I was also told that he often has trouble fucking us kids because his belly's so big and his cock's so short. His eyes are beady and cold. His smile disgusts me.

I wanted a moment to collect myself, to use the brief moments after we entered to get my head right. I wanted to get through the experience with as much dignity as possible but the Chairman was on me as we crossed the threshold. He pinned me with his body against the wall by the door and began pawing at me, running his hands up my shirt and over my stomach, sides, and chest. My arms came up protectively.

"Fuck baby, you are so hot!" he breathed and brought his head close to kiss me.

"Stop 3; stop," my voice was high pitched and trembled. "Wait 3; wait 3; just give me a sec." I began to crawl along the wall, hoping to get out. His body odor was overwhelming. He was perspiring heavily.

My shirt kept riding up higher and higher. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. I kept trying to brush them off and to pull my shirt back down but I couldn't. Soon I found myself in the corner with nowhere to go. "No 3; no 3; stop 3; please. Just please stop!"

"Oooo 3; what a beautiful little puta we have here." Mex had come into the room. I saw him with my head squashed against the wall, my arms half up, my t-shirt up to my armpits. He had a pile of towels that he dropped on the floor by the door, then he sauntered over.

I began to squirm again as Mex plunged both hands into my underwear; one in the front, one in the back. Suddenly my shirt was gone. I grabbed at the hand on my cock, trying to pull it away; another caressed my ass.

"No 3; stop 3; stop 3; please," I heard myself saying. I had sworn I would get through this without begging, but I couldn't help it. I kept repeating it over and over, "please stop 3; please."

"But chula, you're so pretty," Mex whispered in my ear. My underwear was beginning to slide down my thighs.

"Let's bring our new girlfriend into the middle," the Chairman said, and grabbed me under my armpits and pulled me forward, my face pressed against his chest. At the same time, Mex grabbed my underwear and pulled them down my legs. I couldn't help but step out of them.

I was pushed to my knees in the middle of the room. The Chairman was behind me, one finger smeared KY on my anus; his other hand fondled me as if he was doing me some favor. My balls were tight against my body. I heard his heavy breathing and felt the exhalation on my face. He watched me closely, reveling in my agony. Mex poked at my face with his cock. "Pencil Dick" is his nickname with the boys on the pod and I now knew why. His cock seemed about average in length but it was surprisingly thin. Even the head was thin. He grabbed my head in his hands; I opened my mouth and accepted it. I had no choice. Immediately he was cooing and jamming it in and out.

The Chairman had one fat finger inside of me and was fighting to get a second in. I desperately tried to relax my ass and let it in, but that's a muscle I have little control over. It would have been easier if they would have let me bend over and relax, but Mex was enjoying face fucking me. I grabbed his pant legs to hold myself up, hearing the keys on his keychain jangle in time with his thrusts. I gagged; whether from Mex's cock or because the Chairman finally got a second finger in, I'm not sure.

I had never given it much thought before, but I imagine most boys like to finger their ass when they jerk off. But having a pair of fat fingers rammed up there is something else. My ass felt like it was burning as he twirled his fingers around and massaged my ring. He was starting to pant like a rutting pig. His other hand had left my cock and was sliding up and over my butt. Then, suddenly, his fingers were gone.

I can never describe the terror you feel as you're bent over, face on the floor, ass in the air, waiting, and then you hear the rattle of a belt buckle and the slide of a zipper. My mind felt like a skipping record. I could think of nothing other than, if only I hadn't started that fire 3; if only I hadn't started that fire. Again I felt the need to pee but this time I couldn't hold it. A warm stream dribbled down my leg. Mex had my head pinned on the floor between his knees keeping me from crawling forward. Then I felt the Chairman's cock against my anus and I braced myself for the pain.

"Arrrgh!" blasted from my lips as a searing, burning pain exploded in my ass. It was as if a white hot knife had been jammed in me. "Oh fuck!" I hissed. I squeezed my eyes tight to keep the tears inside. A solitary sob broke free.

"Oh, fuck! What I beautiful sight," I heard Mex say. I could still hear the jingle of his keys and figured he was jacking off to the sight of the heavy man on top of me.

"Ahh 3; you beautiful little bitch. You are so fucking hot! " The Chairman held his hips still but his hands kept running up and down my ass and my thighs. "Just think, you're not a virgin anymore, are you? Now you're just a slut like all the other sluts here," he whispered to me. He reached one hand in between my legs and rubbed my balls. Then, just when I thought I might get used to having him inside of me, he started rocking back and forth, his cock sawing away in my ass, and the burning returned. I could feel his fat belly on my backside and his wiry pubes against my ass and thighs, and, as he gained speed, I felt and heard his bulbous, sweaty balls smacking against mine.

His cock seemed to be always perched just inside my ass; it never seemed to penetrate far. Once or twice he pulled back too far and my ass expelled him. That meant I experienced again the pain of that initial penetration.

Slowly he began to pick up speed. He leaned his fat body over me and seemed to put all of his weight on me. His arms wrapped around and rubbed across my chest. I struggled to stay up, my legs shaking. He was pounding into me harder now, beginning to grunt as he did. I felt his shirt buttons digging into my spine. My legs were sweaty and that, plus my piss, made the mat slippery beneath my knees. Finally, just as his thrusting became most frantic, my legs slipped from under me and his weight came down on me.

"Shit!" I wheezed as the breath was driven from me. My ribs felt like they would break. At the same time, I felt his cock slip from my ass. He was too close to orgasm to get himself back inside, so his cock rode up and down my ass crack. He gave a few more frantic thrusts and then I felt his warm, sticky sperm spew over me.

He laid there for a moment or two, gasping for breath, crushing me under his weight, then he slowly rose on to his hands and knees, then stood.

"Holy fuck! You're going to love that," he chuckled to Mex.

I barely had time to think before Mex circled in behind me. Suddenly he was there, clawing at my hips, getting me back up in a kneeling position. Watching the Chairman take me had him hot and I was suddenly pierced again with little fanfare.

"Ahh 3; what a beautiful bacalao you have. It's so tight, my little puta!"

Although I still wasn't used to this, Mex was almost a relief compared to the Chairman. His small girth meant he didn't stretch my ass the way the Chairman did. His length, though, meant my insides were being banged around in a way that hadn't before. It felt like something blunt was being jammed into me.

"Shit, what a show!" I heard Tex say as the door opened and closed. The Chairman must have left and gone and relieved him in the control room. I could picture the Chairman watching everything on the video monitors, rubbing has cock as he did. Tex was already scrambling to get his zipper open and his cock out.

Tex wanted me upright on my knees, so Mex was holding me up while still nailing me from behind. The angle made it feel like he was banging against my bladder and again I felt like I had to pee. I was again clawing on trouser legs to stay up; Tex's this time. He kept pushing in my mouth too far and I couldn't stop gagging which added to my struggles. I ended up scraping him with my teeth.

"Fuck! You bitch!" and he hauled back and slapped me hard. I fell down on my hands. My vision went red and tears welled up.

"Easy chingado," Mex hissed.

"Fuckin bitch bit me."

"Head down baby," Mex said to me, ignoring Tex, and he fucked me in earnest.

I had heard that Tex was the worst, not because of size, but because he was an aggressive, mean fucker. And, he lived up to his reputation. His entry was rough. He was shoving with force before I could get myself ready and he was determined to go deep. He was hitting me places I hadn't been hit before and it was all painful. As much as I tried not to, I couldn't help but move further and further forward on my knees. Eventually I was flat on the ground and he had followed me down. I felt either his belt buckle or his keys digging into my thigh. Even then, I couldn't help but inch forward, trying to get from underneath him, my fingers clawing for purchase. Had the floor not been padded, I'm sure my hips would have been bruised.

His pounding was incessant. My face was a grimace and a rhythmic "Ummph!" came from me in time with his thrusts. Soon he took up a chant of his own, under his breath at first, more angry as time went on. "Fuck - in - Pus - sy - Boy!" he repeated in time with thrusts. Worse still, it felt as if the lube was running dry and he seemed to be pulling my insides out whenever his hips drew back to slam into me again.

It seemed to never end and the pain just grew worse. I couldn't imagine how anyone could go on for so long. I was desperate for escape, but there was none. I was close to crying, close to begging him to stop. And, just as I was about to start screaming for him to stop, he finished.

"Fuck dude, you rode that bitch hard," Mex's voice crept into the fog of my brain.

"Fuckin pussy boy needs it. It's good for him," Tex replied with bravado. I heard a rustle that told me he was buckling up his pants. Then he dropped a moist towel on my back. The absence of his body heat and the wet towel made me shiver.

"Clean up, faggot. We won't want any sloppy, shitty boy cunt when we return." He laughed as he said this. Then I heard the door open and close and the room plunged into darkness.

How long I lay there, I'm not sure. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. I felt both the relief that came with having my ass empty, and the residual, searing pain from being raped. My jaw ached, my knees were scrapped. I slowly became aware of a trickle of viscous fluid following the path from my anus over my balls. I felt a small pool forming under my thighs.

I considered just laying there and never moving again. If I could have just slipped from this world, I would have. But, finally, I brought my legs up and rolled onto my side. I grabbed the towel that had fallen from my back and pressed it against my ass. The coolness did wonders to relieve the burning.

I slowly came back to myself, and as I did; a sadness threatened to overwhelm me. For a moment I almost broke and sobbed like a baby. But then I breathed deeply and regained control. I sat up, leaned back, and used the towel to wipe up my anus. A few small farts broke loose that spurted semen on the inside of my thighs. I had yet to regain enough control of my ass to stop them. I then folded the towel the best I could in the darkness, dirty side in, and wiped down my entire body, trying wipe off the stench and the shame of what had happened to me.

It took a while for the dripping from my ass to stop, but, when it did, I crawled in the direction of the thin line of light that marked the door. Somewhere along my staggering path, my knee came down on something hard. Feeling it, I realized it was the tube of KY they had been using. Reaching the door at last, I pulled my jumper over me as a blanket. Then, after I rested some more, I lubed myself well.

The fact that I slept at all surprised me. I knew their practice was to come back and do it again before the end of their shift. I expected a long night lying awake, waiting for the torture of round two. Instead, the light blinded me as it came on and I heard, rather than saw, the Chairman and Tex come laughing into the room. Mex would take first shift in the control room.

It took all my strength to rise to my feet. I tried to stand proudly but I wobbled, and so I leaned against the wall, feeling it's coolness against my back and my ass. I barely registered their taunts. Then, when I felt my strength return, or at least as much as could be expected, I stumbled to the middle of the room again and dropped to my knees. I wouldn't make them drag me this time. And, there would be no begging.

The Chairman gave a small laugh that made me uncomfortable. He approached me, his hands reaching under his belly for his belt buckle. "On your back, Carver," he ordered. "You may have come into this room as a boy, but I want to make sure you know that you're leaving it as a girl," he said. "Our girl!" he added for emphasis. "Our little, bitch girl!" he said, meanly.

I watched from my back as he kneeled between my legs, his pants hanging on his thighs, his short, fat cock barely visible because of his girth. Then he surprised me by stripping off his uniform shirt and undershirt. He had a hairy chest and belly with two flat, saggy tits resting on it. "I like my bitches to know what a man feels like," he laughed again.

He pushed my knees up and out, then crawled close. He had trouble getting a hand down over his belly and to his small cock. I felt his hand fumbling between us, then I felt his cock ready to invade me again.

He grunted and pushed. My anus, tired and sore from before, relented easily, but not without a tremendous amount of pain.

"Oww 3; fuck! Ahh 3; shit!" came from me as his hand came from between us, his cock firmly lodged in me. Again, it seemed to linger just inside of me and I found I hated that more than when Tex or Mex was in me. It always seemed so close to leaving me but never quite did.

I hissed and moaned as began to fuck me, but I never suspected what was to come next. And, although it didn't rival the pain that his raping me caused, it disgusted me like nothing else I ever experienced.

He came down onto his elbows and nestled against me, his fat belly making it impossible to breathe, his hairy chest scrapping against me. Then, with a laugh, he began to try to kiss me. I could see Tex, leaning causally against the wall, grinning stupidly.

I wildly flung my head back and forth, resisting for all I was worth. He laughed as his mouth chased mine; his breath was pungent. Then, unable to kiss me he began to lick me.

I forgot all about the pain in my ass. For the first time a sob escaped me.

"Aww 3; our little baby's going to cry," he laughed, stopping for a moment. Then he began again, running his tongue across my check, down my neck, and back again. My skin crawled, I was wild to escape, but there was nowhere to go. I tried time and again to push his face away, but I couldn't. He trapped my arms down with his elbows and continued to lick me.

I can only guess it was his approaching orgasm that made him stop, because soon I had only to put up with his animal sounds and his pig-like breath as he came inside of me again.

Minutes later I was sitting beside Tex, lackadaisically stroking his semi-erect cock. Despite the overwhelming stench of sex in the room, he wasn't able to get hard. His frustration was clear; his anger was growing. And, that anger was scaring me. He had wanted me to ride him; I think he wanted to pleasure of seeing me have to participate rather than just having it done to me. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't get hard enough to penetrate me. I had sucked him until he pushed me off of him. Some of my hair had come loose and I constantly had to brush stray strands back behind my ears. Now I squeezed and pulled, switching hands when one grew tired, but he made no progress.

He stared at his cock and me jerking him off, leaning back on his elbows. Then he looked at me. "So pussy boy, you like cock? You like to suck it?" and he slapped the back of my head as he said this.

I met his eyes for just a moment, then looked away.

"What's the matter pussy boy? Don't be afraid to admit it. Go ahead, say it. Say it fag! Say 'I love cock,'" and he slapped me again.

He sat up now and moved close. He aimed a blow at the side of my face but I brought my arm up.

"Come on pussy boy, tell me how much you like cock," and he slapped at me again, and then again.

He was up on his knees now. I began to shrink away. The blows kept coming, punctuating his words.

"You sucked your daddy's cock? I bet you did pussy boy! I bet you sucked your daddy's cock and all his friends' cocks." Now he was standing over me.

"Tell me how much you love cock, go ahead; tell me." The blows were coming faster and harder, I began to crawl backwards on my hands and feet, pausing to ward off blows when I had to.

His voice kept getting meaner and the blows kept coming. I kept backing away until he finally had me pinned against the wall. Then he stopped, breathing hard, and I saw he was finally hard.

He was quickly on his knees in front of me. He grabbed my ankles and I was abruptly pulled flat onto my back, my ass high in the air. Then his hands were behind my knees and he was forcing them past my head. I felt his cock find his target and he penetrated me.

My head was squished sideways by the wall. The look in his eyes was nothing I had seen before. The pain was more intense than anything yet. I knew I was shouting something, but I didn't know what.

We had a speaker in one of my classes in school one time that talked about almost dying. He talked about seeming to float above the scene, looking down at his body and the EMTs who worked to free him from his car. As I floated toward the ceiling, I could see myself, eyes shut tight, face contorted in pain, my head bent sideways, crammed against the wall. I could see my legs bent back impossibly. I could see my hands on his hips, desperately pushing him away. I watched his butt cheeks clench with each inward thrust and I felt the pain of each stab, but I seemed distant from it at the same time. I could see Mex hovering near, urging Tex to go easy on me.

I wish I could say that I passed out from the pain, but I never did. I experienced every last second of it, every last thrust. I felt the spittle from his rage as it dripped on me, and felt the slickness of our bodies rubbing together.

It felt like it would never end, but, of course, it did. I just remember the incessant pounding. My struggles eventually subsided. The scene faded into a fiery, white haze.

The stench of the room was the first thing that came back to me. I laid limply on my side, my legs curled against my chest, and studied it. And suddenly I knew what it was. It was the smell of fear and pee. It was the smell of sweat, and sex. It was the smell of small, wet farts and a hundred ejaculations. It was the smell of the ass of every boy in the pod; those out there now, and those that had been here before me.

I am told it is our initiation, a ritual that each boy here experiences. And for many of the boys, once the initiation is over, they're never brought back. For them it's one and done. For the young ones, the pretty ones like me, we're special. We're brought here a lot. It is our smell that most strongly defines the room.

Mex sat quietly beside me, his face ashen and sweaty, his pants still buckled. Has he done me again? I can't remember. I know my ass will not hold up to being penetrated again. Still I could do nothing to stop it.

"You have to understand puta, he was an inmate here, too. And, he was young and pretty as well, except he was here when the young boys, like you, and the older boys were all kept together. He was here when there weren't video cameras and when guards would look the other way. He's never talked about what happened, but I don't imagine it was good."

He said that to me as if I should care, as if I should go, Oh! I understand! and forgive him. Instead it just made me wish I had been there to see, to egg the older boys on.

Mex rose to his feet, tossed a towel to me and said, "Breakfast in an hour. Get your shit together and get dressed."

Manny is shaking my shoulder. I break out of my reverie and see that my pod mates are lining up to leave. I notice that someone, probably Manny or Turtle, has taken my tray to the service window for me. I wince as I rise and join the line. We'll stop first at the shower room to brush our teeth and then be marched to the building that serves as our school. The day-shift guards take over now. The night guards leave after breakfast.

I brush my teeth in silence, unaware of the chaos around me. It feels good to scrub my teeth. I end up brushing my tongue and gums, as well. Then I move on and do the inside of my cheeks and the roof of my mouth, anything to get rid of the taste of cock that seems to linger. The other boys jostle and tease each other but give me a wide berth. Occasionally one will pass by and give me a pat on the shoulder.

The Chairman, Tex, and Mex are on for the next two nights. They spent the entire walk down to breakfast regaling me with how fine they think I am, how pretty, how tight my ass is. Although they promise it will be someone else's turn tonight so that I get a rest, tomorrow it will be my turn again. And, they promise, we'll have many nights together.

The other boys tell me I'll get used to it. Some actually tell me I'm making too big a deal of this. They tell me that eventually your ass loosens up, and it just becomes routine. You just lay there as they have their fun. Some boys, I'm told, like it and jerk off as they get fucked.

I say this is true if you've been taking it in the ass since you were six, if someone introduced you to it with love and care. I am not one of them. I will hate it every time. Even if it doesn't hurt, I will hate what they do to me. I will hate the humiliation. I will hate being used like their toy. I will hate having them use my body for their pleasure.

I remember that Manny once told me that Carlos, his cousin and one of the older boys here, can get him a shank if he needs one and I ponder this for a bit. I think about my life outside, about my mom, about our apartment, about my school, about my friends. I know that I often complained about it, complained about its dullness, but it suddenly seems like a life both warm and comforting. But it's also a life that's very far away. And I know now that I will never see that life again. Because I know now that I will never finish my time here.

I drop the disposable toothbrush they gave me in the trash as I pass, a guard standing by to make sure that all the brushes are accounted for. You'd be surprised what can be made into a weapon. I go to join the line for class, but as I pass the young guard standing by the door, he grabs my sleeve and pulls me out of line. I look at him in shock and I hear the other boys go quiet.

"Hey boss," he calls out. "I'm keeping one here for a shower."

"Ok," comes the response.

I almost panic for a moment, thinking that what happened before is about to happen again, but then I look up at him and realize it's not.

He waits for the others to leave, then turns to me. "Why don't you go take a shower? Take your time. Use all the hot water you'd like. I'll wait." I look at him for a moment and see worry and concern, then I turn to the shower room. Leaving my clothes on the bench, I enter one of the stalls. I turn the water on hot, then sink to the floor, curling up on to my side.

I lay there and feel the cold tile slowly warmed by my body, the hot water running over me. My hair comes free of the knot I had tied it in and soon covers my face.

My fingers are wrinkled by the time I move. I rise slowly, stiffly, and grab soap from the dish on the wall. Then I scrub myself like I never have before. I scrub every inch of my body. Yet no matter how hard I try, I don't feel like I can wash them off me. I can still feel their hands fondling me, I can still feel their sweaty thighs against mine, I can still feel their pubes against my ass, I can still feel their balls banging against my own. Despite how tender it is, I pay particular attention to my ass, anxious to cleanse it of KY and sperm. Finally, my body flushed from the hot water, I step from the shower. There I find a towel hanging ready and clean clothes on the bench. My old clothes are gone. The guard stands in the doorway, his back to me, deliberately giving me my privacy.

When I come out, he smiles at me. Suggesting I don't look well, he leads me back to the pod instead of to school. I'm suspicious, but glad for the chance to be away from the others. He tells me I can sit in the common room and watch TV but I prefer the solitude of my cell. I lie down on my bunk and try to close my eyes, but I know that sleep won't come.

The behavior of the new guard still bothers me and I continue to turn it over in my mind. With nothing better to do, I switch my pillow to the foot of my bed and lie the other way; this allows me to see the control room. There I see the young guard talking with another. They are huddled over the monitor, pointing and talking. This confuses me because I'm the only one in the pod; there shouldn't be anything to look at. Eventually I sleep.

It's Manny's turn that night and I'm sure they choose him because he's my closest friend. I watch the Chairman gather him from his cell. I know the other boys are watching as well. We all feel the same, anger at what's about to happen, relief that it's not us, and guilt at feeling relief. Manny walks slowly past my cell, his head down, the Chairman nudges him along. Mex is waiting at the door to the isolation room. The lock turns. Manny hesitates and starts to back up, but a shove from the butt of the Chairman's nightstick prods him forward. They disappear inside.

My attention shifts to Tex in the control room. I watch as he leers at the monitor, absorbed with what is happening in isolation. I watch until the Chairman comes out to relieve him. I've told myself that I will stay awake as long as I know they're working Manny over but the next thing I know, we're being called for breakfast.

Just like it did for me, the dining hall goes quiet when Manny is led in. The conversation had been subdued already. Carlos, Manny's cousin, isn't here. A rumor reaches me that he heard what was happening to Manny and that he pitched a fit. Rumor is that he's in the isolation cell in his own pod. For as segregated as we are, it's amazing how rumors fly.

Looking at him sitting across from me, I wonder if that's how I looked. He's pale and shaky. His left cheek has a small split and his eye is swollen and bruised.

"Hey, esé" I say. He tries to smile. I shove a glass of juice over to him.

"Thanks," is all he says, but it's enough that I can hear that his voice is scratchy and dry. Then he quietly says, "They're going for you again tonight." I know this already, still I fell my guts knot up. I nod. "They say you're a better fuck than me," he says, and he tries to make it seem like a joke with a small laugh. He continues to look at me, then looks down at his plate. "Sorry."

While passing messages from pod to pod is easy, passing a shank takes time. It will be a day or so as it moves from hand to hand, from hiding place to hiding place. I will have to endure at least one more night with the guards.

It is the worst day of my life. The time seems to fly by. The clock is racing. I'm nervous. I pace. I try to distract myself. I tell myself not think about it since there's nothing I can do about it. My stomach is in knots. I constantly feel like I need to take a shit. I actually sit on the toilet a few times, but nothing comes out. I want to scream. I want someone to rescue me. I want to be home. I want my mommy.

My mind flies from one useless plan to another. I'm tempted to fight it this time; to fight it from the very beginning, as soon as they come for me, but I know it's useless. I'll get both fucked and the shit kicked out of me. The one thing I do know is that tonight I'm likely to break. I keep telling myself I'll be brave, but I know that's not true. I know that when they take me it's likely I'll cry and beg. I cannot let that happen.

The evening passes swiftly. I toss about on my cot.

I hear the night-shift arrive and convene in the control room with the evening-shift. I can hear their muffled laughter. I think I might puke. I feel the need to pee, but I've just been.

Then I hear a rustling among the other boys. Whispers are passing around the pod. I want to turn and look at the control room to see what the boys are reacting to, but I know that the sight of the Chairman and his two goons will send me over the edge. And, just as quickly as they start, the whispers are killed by a voice over the PA, "Quiet in the pod!"

The half hour of overlap between shifts goes by quickly. I hear the good nights as the evening-shift leaves. Then, moments later, I hear the night-shift guards on their walk. Mex will be walking below; the Chairman will pass my cell soon. I hear his footsteps make their way slowly past the cells. Closer he comes. Then he's here.

To my surprise and horror, he stops. Usually he walks past once, checks all the boys, then comes back. But, he's at my cell and watching me. My time has come too soon; I'm not ready. I'm listening intently but not looking, unsettled by what he might do. Then he speaks.

"Brandon!" he calls. For a moment I'm so startled I can't react. None of the guards have ever used my first name. I've always just been "Carver." Then I realize the voice's not right. I look.

Not only is the voice wrong, but the silhouette is wrong. It's clearly not the Chairman. Is it Tex or Mex? Then his flashlight flips on, but it's pointed to the ground and not in my face. And, in the light that bounces about in my cell, I see it's the young guard. I sit on the edge of my bunk and stare at him.

"Brandon, you OK buddy?" he asks. I'm confused and speechless. All I can do is nod. "They're gone," he says, and I don't have to ask who he means.

"They'll be a couple of detectives from the state police here tomorrow. They'll want to talk to you."

I turn and look at the wall across from me, thinking about what this means. This is all happening too fast. I'm having trouble sorting out my thoughts. Will I talk with them? I'm not certain. To tell what happened to me will mean I relive what happened to me. I'm not sure I can do that. I want what happened the night before to be in my past. I never want to think about it again. Life will be so much easier if I just let it go.

"Brandon," he says again, and I look at him once more. "I could tell you that by talking to them you'll be saving other boys from having to go through what you went through, but I won't. What I will tell you is that if you're brave, and if you talk, they'll go to jail. And, when they do, what happened to you will happen to them."

A smile breaks out across my face. I can't help it. That thought makes all the difference. But still the idea of talking about what happened, of going over it step-by-step, it frightens me.

"Will you be there?" I ask. Why I ask him this I'm not sure. There's just something about him that makes me feel comfortable.

He seems surprised by my question. He thinks about this. "I will if you want me to. I'm not sure they'll let me in the room when they talk to you, but I'll walk you there and walk you back."

"What if you tell them I won't talk without you?"

I see him grinning at this. "Well, I can't tell them that, but you can. It might make a difference and it might not."

I lay back down and pull my blanket up under my chin. The guard stands and watches me for a bit longer, then walks on. I watch as he continues on his rounds. I see the night lights around the pod grow fuzzy, then turn to stars. I feel my pillow grow damp against my cheek. Then I bury my face in it so that no one will hear me when I cry.

The End