Vaccinated - A Continuation

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SIX~~

 

Smith sat at his desk, reviewing the never-ending flood of reports coming in.

Murder, murder, rape, sexual assault, murder, aggravated assault, murder, burglary, murder, assault, theft… he’d long ago been desensitised to the horrors of, and horrors in, the reports - you had to be, to do his job.

Something tickled at his memory, he clicked back a few reports. “Robertson”, he thought out loud, “where have I heard that name before?”

He searched the database of cases, and then it hit him. A bolt straight to his cock, which hardened with his memory of Jake Robertson, the hot fucker that escaped prosecution despite brutally beating his victim under the guise of an MMA bout. His charisma, hot face, even hotter body, and outrageous bulge were not going to save him this time.

***

He picked up the phone. “Assad.”

“Captain, it’s Smith.”

Assad suppressed an exasperated groan. “Mr Prosecutor, what can I do for you?” Though he suspected, he knew.

“This Robertson case…” Yep, he knew.

Despite himself, Assad did groan, covering it with a fake cough.

“Yes, I just filed the report. You’re on the ball.”

“What’s this about conflicting victim statements?”

“Well, the son claims his father was attacking him and the uncle came to his rescue. The father claims he was attacked by the uncle, unprovoked. The state of each victim would seem to support the son's assertions. The son was banged up, but the father was nearly killed. Given the relative sizes and skills of each alleged perpetrator–”

“I smell bullshit, Hassan. I’ve seen this Robertson thug before. He slipped from my grasp before, I won’t allow that to happen again.” Smith imagined the hot fucker in his grasp, pushing his head down onto his cock, his powerful muscles struggling against the choking.

“Watch it, Smith, some might say you’re displaying an inappropriate bias.”

“Fuck off Hassan. Pick him up.” Smith had his pants unzipped, stroking his rock hard dick as he revelled in besting the hot thug.

“On what charge?” Assad could not hide the incredulity from his voice.

“Let’s start with Attempted Homicide and Aggravated Assault.”

“What!? Smith, at best you’ve got a tenuous misdemeanour assault, and his defence of defence of others will likely prevail, especially with the testimony of the son.”

“Then you best make sure the son gets his story straight. Otherwise I’ll charge him with perjury.”

“You’re out of control, Smith.”

“Just do it, or do I have to get the Commissioner on the line?”

Assad slammed down the phone. He clicked his radio, “Rodriguez, come in.”

***

Smith smiled as he brought up an application for an arrest warrant. Judge Attenborough will sign it, he thought, even with the conflicting statements. He aimed his cumshot into the garbage bin, thankful that he didn’t have one of those wire mesh waste paper baskets.

***

They kept the shower running, to cover their whispering, just in case.

“They know?” HE asked.

“No, I don’t think so - but they know SOMETHING. What are we going to tell them?”

“It’s all off-books and unofficial, right? So we don’t have to be truthful — there’s nothing compelling us to tell the truth… then again, the truth is so ridiculous, maybe we should just tell the full story as no one is likely to believe it.”

Brad was wary. “I don’t know about that. That’d be admitting to a whole host of crimes… us too, even though we were on the right side of things. So far, at least, he’s only mentioned me and Jake - I don’t think he knows anything about you two.”

***

Diego nearly leapt out of his skin when his radio crackled. He was still on edge, waiting for Brad to return - what WAS he doing?

“Rodriguez, come in.”

The Captain. This couldn’t be good.

“Rodriguez, over.”

“10-29 on Robertson, over.”

“Acknowledged. 10-29 Robertson. Rodriguez out.”

Fuck.

***

They decided Brad would return to Diego alone - it was too dangerous with the three of them there, unrehearsed. He would claim to know nothing, and see where things went from there.

Brad started talking before he’d entered the room, “Sorry, Officer Rodrig–”

The room was empty. Brad check the lavatory, nothing. He checked for the cruiser and found it gone. He must have been called away. Good, he thought, that would give them more time to formulate their response. His response. They were chasing him. Him and Jake.

***

As expected, Attenborough barely even glanced at the arrest warrant, signing his name. “Thank you, Your Honour.”

“Yes, yes, what’s next?”

“That’s all I have for you, for now.”

“Then you may leave my chambers.”

As he left, he dialled Assad. “Arrest is on,” and he hung up. They both knew exactly who he was talking about.

[cregssatx]

I'm so excited that you're revisiting this story and these characters!

[mmvmgo2011]

~~SEVEN~~

 

Smith did not trust Hassan, that coconut fag was just as likely to fuck up his case as he was to help it. No, for the kid, he needed real cops on the job.

He picked up his phone and dialled. “I’ve got an interrogation for you. 18 yo kid, thinks his uncle defended him, rather than the unprovoked attack that really happened. The perp is with the 18th, but I want you guys to pick up the kid and question him, make sure he remembers correctly.”

“No, only informal statements by the 18th.”

“Great, I’ll send you the details.”

“ASAP.”

***

Diego again knocked on Jake’s door. Forlorn and despondent. Technically, he was going against protocol, regulations required two officers for any arrest, but this was Jake… he wanted to bring him in personally. His cameras were still off from earlier, so if things went wrong, he was probably fucked.

Jake answered the door, and Diego’s heart skipped a beat. He was wearing the same muscle-T and sweatpants, and he was fucking hot.

“Diego?” He didn’t look so good, “Is everything okay?”

“Jake. I’m so, so sorry. It’s not a prank - I need to bring you in. About as serious as it gets - attempted murder. That fucker Smith…”

“Attempted murder?! What?” Smith? Where had he - shit. The prosecutor. Fuck.

“It’s okay Diego, I understand. You’re just doing your job. Cuffs?”

Diego nodded. Attempted murder, there was bending the rules, and then bending the rules.

“Okay, let me tell Scott and have him call my lawyer. You can follow me, I’m not going to try to escape.” He half-heartedly laughed.

Jake knocked on Scott’s door, but didn’t wait for a response.

“Scott, I’m being arrested. Attempted murder. Call my lawyer please, have him meet me at the station.”

“WHAT?!?” A small beat before realisation hit, “That fucking CUNT! You can’t!”

“Scott, calm down! I have to... There’s money in the usual place, keys to the beast - you’ll be fine. Call Brad if you need anything.”

Scott was on the verge of tears - tears of anger, frustration, fear. What had his father done?

“Diego, I’m ready.”

He clicked his camera on. The ratchet of cold steel on Jake’s wrists drove home his predicament.

“Jake Robertson, you are under arrest for the attempted murder and aggravated assault of Jason Robertson and Scott Roberts–“

“WHAT??!?! Me? Why? How? No, Diego, there’s been a mistake, I gave a statement, I–“

“Scott, please. Let him do his job.”

“–Scott Robertson. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to…”

The voice trailed off as Diego led Jake out to the cruiser. Scott was numb. He stood still for a long time, silently cursing his father, a seething hatred fomenting deep within him.

***

He placed Jake in the back of the cruiser and then got in the driver’s seat in front. He clicked off all cameras again.

“Listen, Jake, you can beat this. You will beat this. With Scotty’s statement, you’ve got defence of others - it’s a shoo-in.”

“You know, I fucking love the fact that you’re a cop. The uniform, the arrogance, the dominance… it’s hot, but today… fuck your job.”

“I’m… sorry. I wanted to be the one to bring you in. I’m not really sure why.” He really wasn’t sure why - was he developing feelings for him? I mean, he lusted after him, sure - let’s face it, who wouldn’t and who doesn’t lust after him? - but he thought he was feeling something more.

“Thanks. That’s appreciated. If anyone had to do it, I’m glad it was you. So what’s the procedure from here? I’m guessing no drunk tank?”

“No, you’re charged with serious offences - you’ll be fingerprinted, strip searched, photographed, and then transferred to prison, pending a bail hearing. Your lawyer will probably show up before then, and will go over legal procedures with you.”

“I see.”

“Prison will be rough. You might think your size and skills makes you safe, but it’s actually the opposite - you’ll be a massive target as soon as you’re in there. Every top dog will want to put you in your place to prove their dominance and, trust me, they’re not against playing dirty.”

“I’ll put in a word with some of the guards I know, but guards can’t be everywhere. Watch your back. If you can, avoid any fights, because they’ll just add more charges, and that will make it harder for you to beat this and go free. The best thing to do, find a gang of your peers and get cozy. Imagine every prison show you’ve ever seen - it’s like that but even more cutthroat, more brutal - and, yes, exactly as racist. You and I would not mix in prison.”

“Your lawyer is good - he’ll try and get a quick bail hearing - but there’s a backlog - you might be in a for a few weeks or more before your case reaches the top of the list.”

A few weeks? Fuck.

Diego watched Jake’s expression drop in the rear view mirror. He wished he could snuggle up and comfort him, provide solace.

***

A knock at the door snapped Scott from his reverie. What now? He thought.

“Scott Robertson?”

More cops. Two that he didn’t recognise.

“Yes? May I help you?”

“We need you to come with us and answer a few questions.”

“What’s this about?”

“Are you refusing a lawful direction, sir?”

“No, I asked a question.”

“We ask the questions, you answer. Let’s go.”

They herded him out of the house and bundled him into their cruiser before he could even protest. As they drove off he realised he hadn't yet called the lawyer.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~EIGHT~~

 

Scott was treated like a criminal. Worse than a criminal. Accused get the option of calling a lawyer, they didn’t even mention any call or read him his rights - they didn’t need to, technically, Scott was not under arrest, he was merely a witness.

But they sure as shit weren’t going to let him go until they got what they wanted.

For his part, Scott was not stupid, but he was a young, inexperienced kid, being bamboozled and worn down by seasoned cops.

After the 19th hour of continuous ‘non-interrogation’ interrogation, he cracked. He was tired, hungry, thirsty and just wanted to go home. He signed a formal statement that said that his uncle attacked his father, unprovoked, and that he was collateral damage as he tried to defend his father. It also sought to explain away the informal statements taken closer to the time by saying he was high on painkillers at the time.

Of course, it was not really a lie, certainly as far as the attack went, and he was too tired and worn down to even consider what that statement meant for his uncle.

***

Jake was not faring much better. Even the strip search was not at all hot or erotic as he’d always imagined - it felt exactly like what it was, a personal violation.

He’d been transferred to prison about 12 hours or so ago, now, and still no sign of his lawyer. Apart from a casino, he thought, this was the worst possible place to try and track time.

Diego, true to his word, had put in a good word with some of the guards, and he was assigned to a cell by himself. For now, at least, he was safe. Though on his initial walk through to his cell, he noted a number of inmates eyeing him off, each with more venom and malice than the last. Jake was confident he could take any of them on one-on-one, and even two or three, but he knew that they would corner him somewhere and overwhelm him with numbers.

***

The lights flickered on and began their low-key buzzing, and the doors clicked as the locks all unlocked.

“Chow time, 15 minutes,” came the announcement over the system.

Jake, used to Nonna’s cooking, was not particularly looking forward to eating, but he was looking forward to meeting his fellow inmates even less. Porn made it seem so hot - huge, hulking men trapped with nothing to do but fuck - and that might be so, if you weren’t constantly on alert for a shank, or worried about a fight breaking out adding years to a potential sentence.

A guard - one of Diego’s friends, but he couldn’t remember his name - came to the door of his cell. “Jake, breakfast. When you grab your tray, you’ll almost certainly be approached - probably by the Aryans, but it might be one of their rivals.” He noted Jake’s scowl and hissed, “Listen up fucker, this isn’t your mama’s playpen - you might not like it, but you’re a white dude, so you fit in with the Aryans. Lucky for you, the Aryans are by far the most powerful group in here. And you want to fit in - otherwise, everyone will be your enemy, and you’ll have no allies to back you up when you need it. When, not if.”

“Understood.”

“John - Johnny - is the head of the Aryans. You can’t miss him. Almost as big as you, swastika tattoo on the side of his head… cozy up to him, and you’ll be set.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. No, seriously. Never, NEVER show any friendliness to any guard or other authority. You’ll be dead before you realise.”

Jake nodded.

“You’re a fucking stud, sizzling hot. You’re a prize for any of these sick fucks. Watch yourself.”

Jake swallowed.

“Now, act like your struggling, like you’re fighting me…”

“What?”

Before he realised, the guard was dragging him out by the scruff of his neck. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Tough guy newb, huh?” He smashed Jake across the back of the calves with his baton. Jake spat, ”Pig, you can’t afford my cock,” grabbing his bulge. Even prison overalls couldn’t hide his massive junk.

The guard threw him towards the canteen, hoping that he got the hint.

***

Jake picked himself up off the floor. He was not worried, exactly, but wary. It was about now that he was very thankful for the vaccine, and the ability it gave him to adjust every aspect of his body. He ramped up his testosterone and pheromone production, ensuring that he gave off ‘alpha vibes’, increased his vasodilation, to ensure maximum vascularity and pump, making him look bigger and more intimidating, and prepared his fight or flight response for a fight. He was sex on legs to look at, and if you were anywhere nearby, he gave off a heady, intoxicating sub-conscious musk that dilated pupils, inflated cocks and leaked pre of all those around him.

As he walked through the canteen, all eyes were on him, a wave of silence following him through the room. The guards, always wary, now were on maximum alert, something was going down.

Jake picked up a tray and stepped up to the counter.

“You took my place in line, ese.”

“I’m not your bro, and I don’t see your name on it.”

“Oh… we got a tough guy here, eh?”

“Actually, yes. Step back or I’ll smash your nose through the back of your skull.”

“Oh, ho… oh you will, will you? You and what army?” As he spoke, half a dozen guys, each bigger than the last, each boring through Jake with their stares, stepped up behind their presumed leader.

“I don’t need an army.” Jake projected a quiet confidence, amping up his levels even further. He noted that a couple of the hombre tough guys were tenting their overalls. He looked directly into the eyes of his antagonist, and smiled, “What’s your name, hombre?”

“Enrique, puto,” he spat.

“Never for money, honey,” he grabbed at his package. “This isn’t for sale.”

“The name’s Jake. You’ll need that when you go crying to the infirmary about who smashed your face in.”

Enrique laughed, a half-maniacal laugh, and some of his buddies joined in.

“Puto,” he nearly spat the word, “I’m gonna rip your head off and my buddies here are gonna cum down your throat.” They sniggered, some rubbing their swelling bulges.

Jake carefully surveyed the surroundings. Three guards, but none were paying attention to them. Two cameras, but he thought he was mainly blocked by the counters.

“Last warning, friend. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I won’t hesitate to fuck you up, figuratively and, later, literally.” Despite his attitude, he was hot. Bit of a Napoleon complex, but the shorties often did. Even better if his buddies were added to the deal.

Enrique snorted. “Ese, you don’t know who you’re dealing w–”

Before anyone could react, Jake struck, lighting quick. Enrique dropped like a stone, blood pouring from his smashed in face. He didn’t even have a chance to scream in pain, knocked out before he even realised it was happening.

Jake quickly turned back to the counter, calmly adding food to his tray.

It took a beat for Enrique’s friends to realise Jake had followed through with his threat, and they warily looked at Jake’s back as they contemplated striking back, each unwilling to strike first, not wanting to end up like their friend.

Jake expected pandemonium, he expected the guards to explode into action, alarms to blare, the place to be put on lockdown. Instead, Enrique’s friends picked him up and dragged him off, and an inmate came out and mopped up his blood from the floor. Jake didn’t know whether the guards didn’t notice, or didn’t care - but that was it. Shit, this place was just as dangerous as everyone was telling him, maybe more so.

He gathered his food-laden tray and looked for somewhere to sit.

***

Johnny watched the newcomer carefully. The spic head of the Hermanos was hassling him.

Ordinarily, he’d step in and help one of his brothers - either personally or have one of the other brothers do it - but something told him that this one could help himself. Besides, there was no love lost between the Aryans and the Hermanos - no need to inflame a new war over some newb.

Johnny was impressed. The brother was calm and collected, cool as a cucumber, despite six of Enrique’s toughest enforcers surrounding him. And, then, it happened. If he had blinked, he would’ve missed it.

He did... something, an elbow he thought, but it was so quick he couldn’t be sure. And the spic dropped like a sack of potatoes, his face destroyed. Fuck. Respect, brother. This was someone he needed to meet. An Aryan machine.

***

Jake spotted the Aryans, and noted that Johnny was clearing a spot next to him, much to the annoyance of the guy sitting there.

As Jake approached, Johnny stood, and waved Jake over, “Brother, come, sit.”

Jake considered. Either he accepts, and cements the hispanics (and everyone else) as enemies, or he publicly rejects the head of the Aryans - and then is an enemy of everyone, including the most powerful gang in the place. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~NINE~~

 

“The best thing to do, find a gang of your peers and get cozy. … You and I would not mix in prison.”

“…you might not like it, but you’re a white dude, you fit in with the Aryans… And you want to fit in - otherwise, everyone will be your enemy, and you’ll have no allies when you need it. When, not if.”

The words of Diego and the guard echoed through his head. He hated the idea of cozying up with the Aryans, but he had to do what needed doing.

He walked over to Johnny, and accepted his handshake, though never letting down his guard. In particular, the man that was sitting next to Johnny, where Jake was about to sit, was giving Jake daggers… he’d be one to watch. Well, watch extra carefully - everyone needed watching in this forsaken place.

“Brother, that was phenomenal. White power!”

Jake was dying inside. Do what needs to be done. “Thank you, brother. I’m Jake.”

“Johnny, head of the Aryans in this prison.” Jake took the offered handshake, impressed at Johnny’s grip strength.

“That there is my 2IC, Steve,” Johnny said, pointing with his chin, “you have any issues, ANY issues, and Steve is your first port of call.” So, Steve was his name - the one to watch, more than any of the others.

Jake offered his hand for Steve, who reluctantly shook, a limp, wet fish handshake. Jake deliberately squeezed, hard, all the while grinning broadly.

“Now that you’ll soon be one of us, no one will dare touch you, except for the spics, who will almost certainly try and retaliate for what you’ve done. The sooner we get you marked, the better.”

Oh, hell no, thought Jake. There’s no way he’s getting some fucking Nazi bullshit tattooed, marring his perfect body. He had no tattoos yet, and wasn’t about to start with a swastika or some other bullshit.

“Steve will tee that up. Mikey, our tattooist, will help you design something.”

Jake sat, silent.

“Leave the…” his mouth almost twisted - do what must be done - “… spics to me. I’ve still got unfinished business with those fucks.”

Johnny was impressed. “Brother, you don’t need to prove anything else. The whole prison now knows you’re not one to fuck with.”

“I’m a man of my word, Johnny. I told him I’d fuck him up, figuratively and literally, and I mean to follow through. How do I get to the infirmary?”

“Ya got balls, brother, big fucking brass ones.”

“They’re big, but they’re not brass. All the better to fuck him with.”

Johnny laughed.

Jake was glad for the distraction from discussion of his forthcoming branding. He had the feeling that his talk of follow through was improving his standing even further with his new ‘friends’, even Steve seemed impressed that he wasn’t done with his would-be assailant.

“It’s not enough that I fuck him. I need to prove I fucked him, and fucked him up. I need it on camera.”

Johnny whistled, “Brother just got here and is already wanting contraband? You’re new here, but you’re gonna learn - everything has a price, even amongst fellow brotherhood. What you’re asking for… that’s outta your price range, brother.”

“How muc–”

“Robertson?” One of the guards called.

“What now?” Thought Jake.

He stood and walked over to the guard, “I’m Robertson.”

“Ya got a visitor.”

“FINALLY.” He thought, his lawyer.

***

He was surprised to see Diego, though he was out of uniform. He looked like shit.

He sat at the window, and picked up the phone.

“Lines are monitored.”

“Sure, understood.”

“How are you?”

“I’m in a fucking prison, a bunch of Hermanos want to kill me, and I’m about to be branded with Nazi symbols, how do you think I am?” He couldn’t help the sarcastic tone in his voice.

Diego winced, “I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were my lawyer.”

“You haven’t heard from him yet?”

“No.”

Odd, thought Diego. He would follow up. “You should have by now, I’ll call him again for you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Jake…” Diego didn’t know how to break the news, “… I’ve got some news.”

None of it good, but the looks and sounds of him. “Go on.”

“Scotty–“

“What’s happened to him!?!? Is he okay?!?!” Jake leapt out of his seat, the guard admonishing him to settle down.

“No, he’s fine. But, Jake, he changed his story. Smith had some guys at HQ grill the poor kid for 19+ hours, and he cracked.”

So that’s why he looked like shit… “I’m guessing it’s bad?”

“As bad as it can get. I’m no lawyer… but, Jake… you’re in trouble.”

All things considered, he was taking it well. He may as well start making himself more comfortable, it sounded like he was going to be here for a while. He needed to make Diego understand that he needed a camera smuggled in.

“Diego, remember the batons? How I hoped to re-watch the recording with you after I get out of here?”

“Jake, now is not the time to reminisce… you need to speak to your lawyer and formulate a plan, ASAP. I’ll call him as soon as I leave.”

Jake nearly swore, thinking he didn’t understand, until Diego smiled, his dimples extra sexy, and blinked, twice. He wished he could reach through the glass and take him then and there.

“Time!” Fuck, already?

“Thanks for visiting Diego, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’ll check in on Scott for you - anyone else you need me to contact?”

“Can you let Brad know, please?”

“Of course. I’ll visit again soon. Jake… take care of yourself.”

“Always.” And with that, he was gone, and Jake was being led back into gen pop.

***

An hour later, maybe less, Jake was called back for another visitor. This time, he was led to an in person visitor room. This must be his lawyer, he thought.

A moment later, Andrew, his lawyer, walked in.

“Mr Robertson.”

“C’mon Andy, you’ve sucked my cock. Jake will be fine.”

He blushed, “Jake. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into now?”

“You’ve heard my nephew changed his story?”

“Yes, outrageous conduct by the cops. Fucking outrageous. And it doesn’t surprise me that Smith is the one running this. He’s a fucking prick.”

“Outrageous, but not illegal.” It was not a question.

“Not illegal, per se, but their conduct here was so outrageous I can probably get it kicked. It’s one thing for cops to hold an accused for extend periods, lie to them, and–”

“What’s the bottom line, mate? If it’s not kicked?”

“Then you’re in trouble. Dead to rights. Your only real defence was defence of others - if that’s not on the table…”

“Can you get it kicked?”

“Maybe. It’s the best I can give you. I’ll draw up an application, and we’ll appeal it if you’re not successful, but as far as I’m aware, this is totally new law, there’s never been a case about a witness being interrogated by police in this manner. When you’re making new law… well, anything can happen.”

“Bail?”

“I’ve already made waves with the bail court, you should hopefully get a slot in a day or two. How are you holding up?”

“So far, so shit. But I’d rather get out of here before being branded.”

“Let me guess, the Aryans?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, mate, I’m going to do everything I can to get you out. If only for my own selfish reasons - I want to choke on that fucking anaconda of yours.”

Despite everything, Jake laughed, “Yeah, and getting paid might help too. How much?”

“I don’t really know. If we have to appeal, won’t be cheap.”

“I’m good for it. We’ve started this new business that’s going to go gangbusters, but that sort of cash flow is an issue right now.”

“It’s fine, I know you’re good for it. Let’s worry about that once you’re free and clear.”

“Thanks, mate. What’s the next step.”

“I’ll get in touch with Scott and we’ll take immediate steps to try and get his statement kicked. And as soon as you’re up for bail, we should be able to get you out.”

“I’m looking forward to that blowy… I’ll hold you to it.”

Now it was Andrew’s turn to laugh, “Deal. Oh, and before I forget…” He handed Jake a manilla folder of documents. Documents, and a mobile phone. Jake took the phone and stuffed it into his underwear, hoping they wouldn’t find it there.

“Thanks again, and thank Diego for me.”

***

The guard frisking him was the same one from his cell, Felipe was his name. He made a show of properly frisking him for the benefit of his parter, yet, still he found the mobile phone in his underwear.

“Back to the cells. Yard time is over,” he said to Jake. “I’ll take him back,” he said to his partner.

Once they were out of earshot, he rounded on Jake, “Are you fucking crazy? If you get caught with that… it's not just your arse that'll be fucked.”

“I know. Look, I need to visit the infirmary.”

Felipe scoffed, “Why, so you can finish what you started earlier with the Hermanos?”

“Frankly, yes, but I didn’t start anything. He approached me. And I’m not going to do anything to him he won’t enjoy. I told him I’d fuck him, literally, and I intend to follow through.”

“And you're going to record it? Ya got balls, mate. I mean, everyone can see you’ve got BALLS, but fuck, they’re mammoth, and brass.”

“Can you get me to the infirmary or not?”

“I’m on the shift tonight. Wait about an hour or so after we return to your cell, then start complaining about stomach pains or something. I’ll work it out from there.”

[Ro20316]

Man Four chapters in and tehre is so much to discuss. 

Smith is on a path of war agains Jake and he is in talks with Jason. If Jake gets out of this Jason will be at loss. He wants revenge so bad it's teh only thing he is thinking right now. It's messed up.

 

Scott gave in to the interrogation evntho what happened was horrible Jason was atatcked and f it werent for Scott something really bad would have happened. 

 

Jake in prison will be bad, he  still controls his body and the changes he can make. He can go full on Test and grow there as fast as he can and be "free" to dominate and let go of his inhibitions. He will be feared. I can read it already

[mmvmgo2011]

4 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

...He will be feared. I can read it already

Haha... well, hopefully you can't read it already. I hope I can come up with a few interesting twists and variations... so maybe you can, maybe you can't

[mmvmgo2011]

~~TEN~~

 

Jason was hard, instantly. “Yes, Mr Smith, thank you. I can be there at, say, 4pm?”

“Great, thanks again.”

He was still getting used to speaking, the wire keeping his jaw in position having been removed earlier in the day by the doctors, determining that his jaw had healed sufficiently. It still ached, a constant reminder of him.

The cunt was arrested! And is in prison! His cock twitched. Halle-fucking-lujah. He rubbed his bulge, pleasure surging through him. It was a good thing the wire was removed, his ear to ear grin might’ve caused him issues, otherwise.

He picked up the phone, “He’s been arrested, Maria!” He considered going home to fuck his wife, but then thought better of it. He’d rather masturbate, imagining his brother suffering in prison, being shanked, or gang raped, though being the faggot bisexual that he is, he’d probably enjoy that. His cock dribbled some pre as he headed for the bathroom.

***

“Scott?”

“Yes.”

“Andrew, your uncle’s lawyer.”

“Hi, I’ve been expecting your call. I’m so sor–“

“What’s done is done, we just need to try to fix it. Now, I can’t act for you, due to a potential conflict - you’ll need your own lawyer. But I am going to try to kick your statement out of your uncle’s case. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course. I never wanted him arrested, and they’re charging him with things against me too - that’s not right!”

“I know, Scott. The prosecutor running this case is a prick. I know the perfect lawyer for you. Can you meet in, say, an hour? I’ll set you up in a conference room in my office, and then we can go through your two statements, and how the cops acted and what they said and did, okay?”

“Sure, see you then.”

***

Diego knocked.

“Diego?” Despite his best efforts, Brad broke out in a sweat.

“Hi Brad, again. May I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He noted he wasn’t in uniform, so he guessed it wasn’t 'official unofficial business'.

“You alone?”

“Yeah, I was about to head to the gym…”

“Sorry, I won’t be long. I’ve got some news.”

Brad guessed it wasn’t good.

Diego explained everything - the report, Jake’s arrest, Scott’s interrogation - all of it.

Brad didn’t know what to say. “So what now?”

“Now, we wait for his bail hearing, where hopefully he’ll get out. There’s no guarantee…”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I’m worried about him. Brad, I think I’ve got feelings for him.” He really wasn’t sure why he was telling Brad.

“Have you told him?”

“No. But I can’t stop thinking about him. And the more I think about him, the more worried I get. I haven’t been able to eat or sleep since his arrest.”

“You need to look after yourself. You can’t make yourself sick, that won’t help anyone.” Brad was concerned. Was this some side effect or throwback to Jake’s control of him? Did any of Jake’s other “toys” feel the same? He needed to tell the others - they needed to find out and fix it if it was a problem.

“You’re right, of course. Anyway, I should let you go.”

“Right, okay, thanks for letting me know. Do I need to let anyone else know? His lawyer?”

“No, he’s already on his way over there.”

“I’ll get over there later today to visit him, do I need to register or anything?”

“No, you’ll just be searched on the way in. Oh, speaking of letting you go, where did you go earlier, when I was asking you about the stations’s log entry?”

No chance of letting it go, he thought. “Oh, I, uh, thought I heard Amber calling out from the shower…” What? I’m a terrible liar, thought Brad. “So I went to check on her.”

“So, do you know anything? Anything at all that might be helpful.”

Brad tried to keep a straight face, “N–“ his voice cracked, he cleared his throat, “No, sorry, I don’t know anything that might help you.” It just had to crack… well, it technically wasn’t a lie - telling the truth won’t help them any - it’ll only cause more issues and complications.

***

Brad fired off a text to Scott: "Mate, I just heard. I hope you're okay. Let me know if you need anything. Hoping to visit him later today if you want to tag along?"

Scott: "Thanks Brad. Apart from guilt, I'm fine. I have to meet with the lawyers, but after that I'm free."

Brad: "It's not your fault, don't feel guilty. Message me when you're done and I'll swing by to pick you up."

***

“Guard!” He moaned, loudly. “Aarrgghhh… GUARD!”

“You better shut your fucking mouth, inmate.” It wasn’t Felipe. Shit.

“Arrrgggh, guard… my st- stomach. Arrrghh… It hurts.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what hurts. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You think we were born yesterday? The head of the Hermanos gets taken down, is now in the infirmary, and the primary suspect suddenly has stomach pains. Shut the fuck up, or I’ll come in there and make you.”

Jake horned up at the idea of this fucker trying to take him on, and Jake putting him in his place - NO! He had to endure, and concentrate on getting out of here. Assaulting a guard was definitely not the way to get out of here, he thought. Do what needs to be done, Jake. He concentrated on his ability, deadening pain receptors, sloughing off a layer of oesophagus, and inducing nausea. It was only the very top layer of cells, no real danger, but it would look serious. He nearly smiled.

“But, guard… ngggg… it REALLY hur–” and with that, he vomited. A spray of bright red, blood-soaked , flesh-speckled vomit showered across the cell, flecks of flesh and blood splattering the guard. Even Jake, who knew it was coming, was simultaneously impressed and grossed out.

The guard started heaving and dry retching, “Heurggh, heur– urghhh, you FUCK,” unable to cope with other’s vomit. He pressed on his radio, “Felipe,” - Heave - "we need an inmate transfer to the infirmary.” - Heave - "Get over here.”

Jake hid a smile. Stupid fuck.

***

As the other guard ran off, Jake allowed himself a chuckle. In all fairness, he WAS spot on, Jake thought. But they didn’t count on Jake’s abilities.

The thought of his abilities again had him lamenting the loss of his sperm ability. He had nothing but time in this forsaken place - he would have to use that time to start working on figuring out what happened, and how to regain it.

His reverie was interrupted by Felipe.

“Jesus, what the fuck did you do? I said to feign an illness, not create one!”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine. The brute just needed some convincing.”

“How did you?”

“It’s a long story. Now, the infirmary?”

Felipe unlocked the cell and made a showing of shackling Jake for the transfer. The infirmary was on the other side of the cell block, so they had a bit of a walk.

The cells surrounding Jake were empty - another thank you to Diego, thought Jake - but once they walked a few cells away, the other inmates were hollering and carrying on, especially once they saw the blood covering Jake’s overalls. The rumours would already be flying. Was it the Hermanos? A guard? Another group? Surely not, Jake was with the Aryans now. An internal squabble, then?

***

Felipe shackled Jake - one arm and one foot - to the medical bed, well out of reach of Enrique in another bed across the room.

Enrique was asleep, and did not notice them entering. Jake noted that his entire face was bruised and bloated, impressed with his own work. The fucker deserved everything he got, and is about to get, he thought.

“I’ve paged the nurse, but it might be a while. Will you be okay?”

“Yes, as I said, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I need to do my rounds, night shift is always short-staffed.”

Even though he knew why Jake was there - he needed to cover his own arse. He checked Enrique to make sure he was properly shackled. He snapped photos of the two inmates shackled, and an overview to show they were not close to one another. If anything went down - and, let’s face it, he knew it would - his own arse would be covered.

With that, he left.

Jake looked around, but there was nothing he could use to release the shackles. The beds were securely bolted to the floor. He wished that he had Brad’s super strength. He had no doubt that, with time, he could ramp up his strength enough to be able to break the shackles, but could he do it in an hour or two?

A noise outside distracted him from his train of thought. The nurse, already, he thought.

It was not the nurse. And he didn’t have two hours, or even one hour. He had a minute, maybe two if he was lucky.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~ELEVEN~~

 

Jason’s meeting with the prosecutor was initially going to be short; very short.

Yes, he affirmed his original, informal statement. His prick of a brother attacked him unprovoked, and he was ready to sign his formal statement.

That would’ve been the end of things, but then he uttered the words: “It’s not like this was the first time the fucker has attacked me.”

Smith sat up at that, a glint in his eyes. “Oh, really?”

His cock was interested too, slowly inflating as Jason told the story of Jake’s first “attack”. Of course, Jason’s version omitted the fact that he was drunk (and had driven drunk), that he had tried to attack Jake first, and that he’d sexually assaulted his own brother.

Smith was rock hard by the time Jason was done. He had the cocky fuck for sure, now. Smith grabbed his bulge under the table, a glob of pre wetting his underwear. He couldn’t help himself, he let out a soft moan. A moan of sexual gratification.

Jason looked at him quizzically. “Mr Smith, are you getting off on the fact that you’re about to bring down my brother?”

Smith coughed, brought his other hand above the table and started to make an excuse, “Ah, ahem, no, of course not, I-”

“Because I’m hard as granite at the thought. That cunt has destroyed my life, and he deserves everything you can give him.” It was odd, talking about his arousal so openly and freely.

Smith was gobsmacked - this was his brother he was talking about. He recalled an old saying, ‘Your enemy wouldn’t do to you what your closest loved ones do.’

A small part of his brain was screaming about his ethical responsibilities, and trying to have him proceed with caution - but his single-minded determination and arousal won out. He began taking Jason’s statement of the first incident, each new charge swelling his already hard cock - another nail in the cocky thug’s coffin.

***

Word was spreading like wildfire. Alex and Mike were becoming more yoked, more jacked seemingly by the day, they both felt on top of the world, invincible, virile and powerful. Certainly nowhere near the usual death walking when cutting, subsisting on the barest of calories and virtually no carbs.

Rumours swirled, there was a new stack, a new roid, a new class of drugs - no, not a drug it was an implant, no, not an implant, nanotechnology - nobody knew what to believe. Each rumour seemed more outrageous, more unbelievable than the last.

Mark was itching for his pro card. He was considering a move to the bodybuilding Mecca, and had already heard about this gym and it being world-beating. Now, these crazy rumours. He needed to find out more.

Ordinarily, he would’ve called, but he wanted to see the place for himself, and try and find out more through unofficial channels.

He booked a flight for the next morning.

***

“Scott, Andrew, we spoke on the phone?” He held out his hand, and the shook firmly. “This is Julia Barlow, a former colleague that I think will represent your interests perfectly.”

“Ms Barlow. I would say nice to meet you, but I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Mr Robertson, yes, Andrew has briefed me on the situation. It’s quite a case. Andrew, give me some time with my client please?”

“Of course, conference room 3 is available for your use. When you’re ready let me know.”

***

“So, Scott, it’s important you understand I'm your lawyer, not your uncle’s, or your dad’s.”

“Okay.”

“My job is to advise you and protect your interests to the best of my ability, even if that means doing things that go against your uncle’s or your father’s best interests - do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I recommend that you stick with your statement and do not in any way assist Mr Parkes, uh, Andrew.”

“What? No? That would mean my uncle almost certainly would go to jail!”

“Yes, that is most likely.”

“No! I don’t want that!”

“Scott, I’ve spoken with Mr Smith, the prosecutor in this case, and he has made it clear in no uncertain terms that if you seek to recant your statement - or challenge it in any way - that he will charge you with perjury. Do you know what perjury means?”

“A lie?”

“Essentially yes, lying to the court, which is a very serious charge - almost as serious as those your uncle is facing.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t voluntarily make that statement - those cops, they coerced me. I was there for nearly TWENTY HOURS with no break, no food or drink. I was treated worse than any criminal–”

“The law is clear, though, you were free to leave at any time - they had no right to hold you.”

“I didn’t know that! Do you think I would’ve sat with that parade of one fucking arsehole after another for 20 hours, otherwise?” The exasperation, and desperation in his voice, clear.

“The law does not require police to advise witnesses of their rights.”

“Then the law is fucked. I want to challenge the validity of what they did to me. Nobody should have to go through that, especially not innocents. On their bullshit theory, I’m one of the victims!”

“Mr Robertson.”

“NO! Shut up. I don’t want you as my lawyer.”

“Mr Robertson, plea–”

“I said, NO! Get out. I’d rather represent myself than have someone like you. Fuck off, why are you still here?”

She pursed her lips, but stood and left the room.

“Now what?” he thought.

***

Andrew noted Julia storming out of the conference room. She sat at a desk and began making notes - obviously for her file.

“Julia?”

“Andrew, you need to find someone to represent the kid, he’s going go get himself jailed.”

“Julia - I’ve got a conflict - especially now that I know his thinking. You need to refer him. What about Arthur?”

She nearly snorted, “Arthur! Are you trying to jail my former client?”

“Have you got a better idea? If the kid is as stubborn as you say…”

***

“Finally!” Thought Scott. He’d been waiting for what seemed like hours.

“Mr Robertson? Arthur Jervis, your new lawyer. Ms Barlow has briefed me on the matter. I have to say that I agree–”

“NO! I already told her, I’m not continuing with that statement.”

“I was saying that I agree with your take. The police stepped way, way over the mark here, and I think as a matter of public policy, the court should throw out your amended statement.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and if Smith thinks he can browbeat you with a threat of perjury, then we’ll claim prosecutorial misconduct. It’s bad enough he had his police minions browbeat you for 20 hours, now he’s trying to use the system against you too.”

“Exactly,” Scott brightened. Amazing how two completely different takes can be had from exactly the same facts. Arthur was the one.

“I’ll call in Mr Parkes - Andrew - and we’ll get started on your application to the Supreme Court.”

[Wrestlejock646]

This is awesome! The continuation of a favorite epic.  I'm looking forward to the twists and turns and don't want this ride to end