Jump to content

Recommended Posts

Oh! Yassssssssssss!!! Jake has Smith right where he got it. Smith is so selfcentered he was not  gonna miss  a chance to taunt Jake and now he is screwed.

  • Like 1
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY~~


Despite the threat to have fun, Jake stood up, turning his back on Smith and walking to the exit. As much as he’d love nothing more than to smash him - in every sense of the word, bash him senseless and ravage every hole - now was not the time, here was not the place. He would follow through on his threat - he always did - but he would have to bide his time. What was that about revenge and cold dishes?

***

Smith’s cock was diamantine and throbbed painfully with each beat of his racing heart. Robertson had him pinned and had just threatened to have some “fun”. Smith had no doubt fun for Robertson would not be so fun for him. He whimpered quietly, half in arousal, half fear.

His mind raced almost as fast as his heart. Mixed feelings flooding through him. Fear and terror - what was Jake going to do to him? What was going to happen to his career, to him? Shock - how the fuck had the cunt outsmarted him, bested him? Hatred and resentment - no one bested him. NO ONE. But, most of all, intense, total and utter arousal.

His arousal still confused him. Why was he so aroused by him? What was it about Robertson that so pushed his buttons? No other man had ever even triggered him even slightly, let alone full-blown, cock-masting, pre-gushing, obsessive arousal.

All of a sudden, Robertson stood up, turning his back on him and walking away. Turning his back on him was a testament to Robertson’s low regard of any risk posed by Smith.

He was almost hotter from behind, the jumpsuit not able to hide the massive X physique, the tiny waist expanding upwards to broad shoulders and downward to massive wheels. And in between, where the two lines of the X meet, a prominent arse that radiated sex almost as powerfully as the bulging front side.

Smith was relieved. Relieved and more than a little disappointed at what he had missed out on.

***

Jake pounded on the door, “Guard!”

The door opened almost instantly, but it was not Felipe. It was the same guard that had escorted Jake from the infirmary - he still hadn’t learnt his name. Shit.

Looking around, the guard was, well, on guard. “DOWN ON THE GROUND INMATE!” He yelled as he unholstered his baton. “Sir! Are you okay?” He asked toward Smith.

Jake half-complied, in his own time, kneeling with his hands behind his head. “He’s fine, aren’t you Smith?”

“I SAID, DOWN ON THE GROUND!” The guard smashed the butt of his baton into Jake’s abdomen, expecting Jake to drop like a stone, winded. But Jake flexed his powerful core, and overrode the nerve impulses controlling his diaphragm, withstanding the onslaught and maintaining normal breathing preventing any spasming.

The guard, wide-eyed and panicked, clicked on his radio, “BACKUP IN VISITOR A! BACKUP IN VISITOR A!”

This was getting out of hand. Jake lay face down slowly, carefully, voluntarily complying with the demand, “Smith?!” Jake grunted as the guard kneeled on the back of his neck, a dangerous manoeuvre that could kill. Jake was thankful for his strong, powerful neck and traps, allowing him to continue to breathe normally, despite the weight of the guard trying to block his airways.

Smith sat up, “Yes, yes, there’s no need for alarm. The inmate was merely demonstrating how he found a victim for another case we’re working on. He’s my star witness.”

Jake was impressed at the lie. Comprehensive, believable, it fully explained to the guard not only why he was in that position, but why he was visiting Jake at all. Perhaps he’d underestimated Smith. He was smart, wily. He was even more grateful now that he had that recording.

The guard still looked wary, but holstered his baton, and cancelled the call for backup. But he was particularly slow in getting up and off Jake’s neck. He attempted to manhandle Jake to his feet, grabbing at his arms and trying to drag him to his feet. Initially, Jake didn't move an inch. Even as he was wary and still on heightened alert, the guard was impressed at the hardness of the inmate’s body, its heft, its size. And how had he withstood that baton strike?

Jake decided to allow himself to be manhandled, but he vowed to get his own back and teach this prick a lesson. It was one thing to order an inmate on the ground when he thought there was something shady going on, but kneeling on his neck, that was a step too far. When he shackled Jake to take him back to his cell, it was even tighter than the last time, painfully tight, prompting Jake to adjust his pain receptors. Yes, he definitely needed to be taken down a peg or two. Or ten.

***

As Smith headed for the exit, his mind continued reeling. What the fuck had he done? How was he going to get out of this one? How had that fucker managed to outsmart him?

“Empty your pockets into the tray, and step this way please,” the guard at the exit asked.

Smith thoughtlessly emptied his pockets, and placed his briefcase on the belt.

The guard was patting him down, when his colleague at the scanner asked, “Two mobile phones?”

“Work phone and personal phone. I’m a prosecutor that deals with crime all day, I’m not going to give out my personal number or have personal calls on my work phone.”

They bought the lie and waved him through.

***

As he got in his car, Smith had an idea. He dialled his phone.

“Mina? It’s Dale.”

“I’m good, good, you?”

“That’s great. Hey, listen, I need a favour.”

“You know me too well, yes off-book.”

“It’s a phone.”

“No, not on the phone, some files uploaded to a cloud service somewhere.”

“Ideally? I need it last week.”

“No, no need for chain of evidence. This is a personal favour.”

“You’re a legend. My favourite signals intelligence officer.”

“I’ll bring it right over.”

Smith smiled broadly as the call terminated, all stress and anxiety melting away. Mina was an old flame that worked in a government agency devoted to cybersecurity and signals intelligence offence and defence. If anyone could delete the recording, Mina could.

Smith’s cock swelled as he could see a way out of his predicament, a way to best Robertson - again. A way to come out on top, be the victor, the superior. He rubbed his bulge as he drove the phone over to Mina. Maybe she’d help him out with that too, he thought, not realising most of his arousal was subconscious memories of Jake, being overpowered and dominated, his powerful, muscular body pressed up against his, his massive bulge front and centre in his face.

  • Like 8
  • Thanks 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY-ONE~~


The guard pushed Jake through the exit door, and as it locked shut behind him, he said, “I know that was bullshit back there. I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, but I don’t like it, INMATE.” He put particular emphasis on the last word, trying to assert his dominance, remind the inmate of the pecking order. Of course, Jake would have none of it, but he played along - for now at least - ‘do what needs to be done.’

“I’m sorry, officer guard, sir, I don’t know what you mean?” Jake hammed it up.

“Don’t fuck with me, cunt–” he punctuated the word with his baton, poking Jake in the back, “I saw Felipe in your cell, INMATE, so you can drop the act.”

Fuck. Felipe was right, there really was always someone, somewhere watching. Jake had to be careful, for his sake, but also for Felipe’s.

“I was thanking him for taking me to the infirmary when I vomited. That other guard - the big one, Ignacio? - he refused to take me.” Eh, it sounded believable. He needed to speak to Felipe, and fast.

“Uh huh, I’m sure–” His radio crackled, “Galloway.” He clicked it in response, “Galloway, here.”

“Once you’ve transferred the prisoner back to his cell, you’re needed in block D.”

“Acknowledged.”

Galloway, thought Jake, that’s the name to remember.

***

The cab pulled up outside HIS house.

“Grazie. You keepa da change,” Nonna said as she handed over cash to the cabbie. He helped her out of the cab, opening the door and providing a steadying hand - her arthritis making it difficult to get up.

She walked over to the door, and pressed the doorbell.

“Nonna?!” HE said, taken aback, as he opened the door.

“Scusi ragazzo, I looka for Jake. He no visit for many days now. I no heara his car or hisa bike.”

“Come in, please.”

***

Nonna’s face was crestfallen. Her Jake, in jail? How was such a thing possible?

She sipped the tea that HE had made her.

HE continued the story, explaining how the prosecutor, Smith, had the cops pick up Scott and browbeat him into changing his story. The further HE continued, the darker Nonna’s face became, her Jake was being railroaded. She couldn’t have that. Couldn’t - wouldn’t! - allow that.

***

HE dropped Nonna off a while later, accepting some food by way of thanks. HE knew better than to refuse food from Nonna. HE had also given Nonna HIS number in case she needed anything, especially while Jake was away.

Nonna waved HIM off, then went back inside. She picked up the phone and began making her calls.

***

Smith pulled into Mina’s drive. As he walked up to her front door, it opened, and Mina stepped out. She was even more radiant, more beautiful than he remembered.

“Mina, you look fantastic!”

“I wish I could say the same. You already owe me, you know.”

Okay, so maybe Smith wasn’t her favourite person in the world. Their breakup wasn’t particularly messy, she just decided he was a fucking selfish arsehole and ended it.

“And I’ll owe you even more after this one. Please.”

“Let me guess, you’ve run your mouth off and someone finally got you on a recording? I’ve been waiting for that one.”

Smith looked sheepish, looking at his feet. She always did know him well.

“This is the last time, Smith. I mean it. I don’t care what’s your reason, it’s the last time I help you - with anything.”

His visage brightened. “Sure, yes, fine. I understand. You’ve been too kind already.”

“Hand it over.”

He gave her the phone. “I’ll call you?”

“No, I’ll call you.”

“Mina. It’s urgent.”

“Fuck you, Dale."

“Mina, I’m serious, it’s BAD. Please.”

“As usual, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do. You just want a copy, right?”

“NO!” He calmed down a little, “-no, no copies!” He took a deep breath, “No copies, just delete it from the cloud service.”

“Fine.” And with that, she turned and slammed the door shut.

Smith breathed a sigh of relief. She’d help him again… she didn’t REALLY mean this was the LAST time.

***

What the fuck had he done now, Mina thought. From his reaction to her suggesting a copy, it was bad. She better get right onto trying to hack that cloud service, hopefully it was one in which they already had a backdoor.

***

Jake was surprised - alarmed! - to find another inmate in his cell. And not just any inmate. Miguel. What the fuck?

Galloway smirked, “Sorry, inmate, new shipment of fresh meat, we needed to shift a few of you around. And this one,” he pointed to Miguel, “needed reassigning after he hospitalised his last cellmate.”

“Galloway, is it? This isn’t a good idea, he and I hav–” Jake grunted as Galloway smashed him across the back with his baton.

“Shut your mouth. I don’t give a fuck, INMATE. You trying to make trouble?” He took out his taser and activated it, the loud crackling of electrical arcing punctuating his point.

Oh, yeah, thought Jake, I’m going to fuck you up good - and maybe he could use this as an opportunity to reinforce to Miguel that he wasn’t one to fuck with. If he could do that, maybe he could talk to him about Jason and what Smith had told him. He dulled his pain receptors, and reduced nerve innervation and impulses. It would restrict his movements, but he wasn’t planning on fighting, just withstanding the taser blast. If his plan worked, he wouldn’t need to fight Miguel, either.

He turned to face the guard, looking down at him, and ensured that they stood so that Miguel had full view of them both, “Fuck you, Galloway. You’ve been giving me attitude all fucking day.”

“What the fuck did you say to me? You better fucking learn your place, INMATE.”

“Or what? You’ll tase me? Fuck you. Do it.”

“I’m warning you INMA–” Jake grabbed the wrist that was holding the taser and pulled it into his abdomen, he then moved his hand to cover Galloway’s hand and squeezed, activating the taser.

“E- nnnnggghh - ough t- talk, Ga- Gallowa- aaaa- ay,” he struggled to speak clearly as the taser continued firing.

“What the fuck?!” Galloway tried to pull his arm away, but Jake’s grip was too strong. He held his grip, maintaining the activated taser against himself until it overheated and stopped, then he released his grip, the guard’s hand flying back as he’d been trying to pull free.

Galloway’s eyes were like saucers. First the baton strike, now the taser. Who the fuck was this guy? He contemplated calling for backup, but what for? The prisoner wasn’t being combative, in fact, he was standing quietly holding his arms out awaiting removal of the shackles! Standing quietly! He’d just been tased for, what, 20, 30 seconds straight? Fuck!

***

Jake struggled to maintain his composure as he stood with his wrists out waiting for the fucker Galloway to get his act together and unlock the shackles. He glanced surreptitiously over at Miguel, who was pretending to mind his own business, but Jake could tell he had seen and heard everything that just went down.

Galloway’s hands shook as he unlocked the shackles, then waited for Jake to enter the cell before slamming the door closed and almost running off.

“Ese, you’re a fucking mad cunt!”

Jake grinned, “That fucker Galloway… thinks he’s top shit.”

“You got fucking cojones, ese. Respect, man. You’ll have to teach me how to withstand being hit with one of those things.”

“Thanks. Hopefully one day I will. Look, I know we’re supposed to be enemies - you’re a Hermano, I’m... well, I’m a white guy so supposed to be with the Aryans - but fuck that noise. I meant what I said in the infirmary about not giving a shit about gangs–”

Miguel frowned, “Ese, that’s dangerous talk.”

“I know, but I feel like I can trust you. Can I trust you, Miguel?”

“Mad props, ese, but you and I can’t be friends.”

“If not friends, then what about not enemies?” Miguel did not look convinced. “Miguel, I know.”

“You know?”

“I know that my brother paid the Hermanos for a hit on me.”

Now it was Miguel’s eyes that widened into saucers. Who the fuck WAS this guy? How could he know? “Ese, I don’t know wh–”

“Save it, Miguel. I also know he’s into you for a whole bunch of money. How much?”

So he didn’t know everything, thought Miguel. Does he know it was me that demanded that extra money?

Jake noticed the look on Miguel’s face change, and he put two and two together, “I know it was you who demanded the extra payment, I just don’t know how much.”

Miguel began to sweat. He’d seen what this crazy mofo with the giant steel cojones was capable of, and now he was locked in a cell with him.

Again, Jake noticed the sweat. “Relax, Miguel. I get it. You’re running the show while Enrique is out, and let me guess, my brother didn’t exactly prepare you for, well, me. So you had to up the ante because of the losses you suffered.”

Mother Mary, this guy… “Ese, look–”

“C’mon ese, don’t give me bullshit.”

“Yes, your brother took out a hit, but it was that prosecutor, Smith, that actually arranged it. As you can imagine, we’ve had dealings with that arsehole and he called one of our members currently out on bail–”

“How? Much?”

“$250,000.”

Mother fucker. “And let me guess, it’s due any day now?”

“Three days.”

“If I give you $300,000, will you call it all off - me, my brother… all of it?”

“It’s not that simple, ese. We can’t go back on our word. And even more we can’t be seen to go easy on those that cross us.”

“What if I get my brother to ask for the hit to be cancelled?” Miguel looked sceptical, “I know, I know, it’s all unorthodox and not how things are normally done. You should hopefully know by now I don’t follow the rules.”

“Ese, look–”

“Jake.”

“Jake, look, even if I wanted to, I can’t make a call like that on my own. I doubt even Enrique could. I’m only 2IC and temporarily in charge. You might not follow the rules, ese, but if I don’t, I die.”

“I understand, and thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“For listening. For not trying to kill me here and now.”

Miguel laughed, “You really do have a few screws loose, ese.” He continued laughing, “I did try to kill you, remember. In fact, I don’t know how you didn’t die. I’ve never had to smash on anyone near that many times, and look at you now - not a scratch on you.”

“Not gonna lie, it fucking hurt. You’re good, and the fact you had five buddies with you didn’t hurt you any, I came pretty close a couple of times.”

Jake could not believe he was bonding with his would-be killer, over how very close he came to achieving his goal. 300k. He’d have to get a hold of Brad and draw on the gym’s resources. Brad and HE would understand, surely. It never occurred to Jake that Miguel wouldn’t go into bat for him, on his behalf, that he wouldn’t succeed in winning him over. Maybe he was right, they couldn’t be friends - not in here, anyway - but not enemies, surely that was achievable?

  • Like 8
  • Thanks 1
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY-TWO~~


Diego was rock hard. His entire body was extra pumped, and tingled with anticipation and arousal. The natural surge of testosterone that came with arousal was added to the already supra-natural levels flooding him, and he fucking loved it. His balls were effervescing, they, too, looking forward to dumping their load. Again and again.

As he drove to the prison, he struggled not to release his throbbing cock, not to grasp the shaft and feel the massive veins pulsating beneath his fist, feeding the tumescence with every heartbeat. He wore his favourite jeans, though he had to really struggle to get them up over his thighs, and a looser V-neck tee-shirt, only it was no longer loose. It hugged every separation, showed every striation, vascularity visible even through the fabric. Jake was onto something, he thought. The tightness felt incredible, the look was pure sex.

Ever since Jake’s rejection, he had been practising, flexing and pulsating his pelvic floor, his ring, his core. He’d even learnt some control over the muscles in his tunnel, though that was a much tougher ask and he’d need more time to perfect that skill. He was going to blow Jake’s mind even more than he would blow his cock, make him want him - NEED him - with his skill and with pure, animalistic sex appeal.

***

Miguel was torn. Jake was a cool guy. He liked him. And, he had to admit to himself, he was attracted to him. Ever since the infirmary, he couldn’t get him out of his head.

As they sat, talking, Miguel was rock hard, imagining Jake taking him, dominating, ploughing and plugging every hole. Filling him, satisfying every carnal urge and craving.

But, he was a Hermano, first and foremost. And he wasn’t lying when he told Jake they’d kill him if he didn’t follow the rules.

“If I hadn’t tasered you when I did…”

“Mother fucker, that hurt,” Miguel said, playfully. “How DO you manage to withstand that thing, anyway?”

“Mind over matter, mate.” It was technically true.

Jake had another idea. It was outlandish, but then so was his refusal of the Aryans.

“Miguel, I have another idea.”

Miguel laughed, “Do I want to know? You’re crazy, ese.”

“Yeah, I am. How do I become a Hermano?”

Miguel gawped, unable to form words. This mother fucker really was crazy!

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s not how things are normally done. But if I was a Hermano, then there’d be no question of cancelling the hit. And, there’d be nothing preventing us from being friends.”

He was technically correct - the best kind of correct - but a white dude as a Hermano? Such a thing was unheard of. And what would the Aryans think? It would kick off a war for sure - not that he was sure they hadn’t already done so when they attacked Jake. He hadn’t yet been branded, but he was all but one of them.

“Jake, do you have any idea what you’re asking?”

“I do.”

“I really don’t think you do. If - IF! - such a thing were even possible, and I’m not sure that it is - it would upend the entire social structure of the prison. The Aryans will be fucking pissed, and we’d no doubt have a war with them.”

“Fuck the Aryans. Who gives a shit what those Nazi fucks think anyway.”

“Jake!” He hissed, “Keep your voice down! You may not give a shit, but they make up the majority of the prison. They rule the show. If anyone heard you say that - you’d be fucked.”

“Bring them on. They want to brand me with their Nazi symbols. Fuck that. We were always going to butt heads, and there was always going to be a showdown.”

“So that’s why you want to become one of us? So you have some backup?”

“No! Not at all. I don’t want any of you involved in my shit with the Aryans.”

“But, if you were a Hermano, we would be involved. That’s how it works. You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.”

“Then forget I said anything. I don’t want that. I–”

He was interrupted by Felipe at the cell bars. “Jake, you’ve got a visitor. A conjugal.”

“Oh, yeah?” His cock swelled at the thought. He stood and walked to the bars, his bulge tenting his jumpsuit. Miguel groaned, unable to help himself, the sight was too arousing and his cock had already been throbbing, desperate for attention. It was the first time Jake noticed Miguel’s arousal. He was too busy thinking of himself, thinking of a way out. Jake smiled.

“Felipe, I think Miguel wants to join us.” Miguel beamed, definitely keen.

Felipe’s eyes rolled, “Jake, between you and Diego, you’re going to get me fired, or worse.”

***

The anticipation was building within him. His cock felt like it was going to burst it was so hard. He could not sit still, his entire body aflame with desire and intense arousal. He stood and did some bodyweight exercises to try and work off some of the energy, and pump himself up. His jeans creaked as he squatted, the seams groaning less from the movement and more from the swelling muscles. His arse, already filling out the jeans spectacularly, inflated as he worked, the pump spreading across his entire body.

His vascularity heightened, huge ropes feeding the pump covering his arms, his legs, feathering down into a carpet of veins covering every muscle.

He held his breath as the door lock clicked.

***

Diego’s heart skipped a beat. There he was. He was fucking perfect, even the garish orange jumpsuit couldn’t detract from his perfection, he thought.

Then, his mouth gaped, as a Hermano stepped through the door behind him. And not just any Hermano - Miguel, the 2IC! Diego knew the Hermanos well, having done a stint undercover in a different cell.

He had so many questions, not least of which was how the fuck Jake had befriended a Hermano? In prison!

“Diego!” Jake beamed, his smile radiant. “Diego, this is Miguel, a friend of mine. He wanted to join us. Will that be a problem?”

Silence.

“Diego?”

“Hmm… sorry, I was distracted by you. You look fantastic–” He was about to say that prison suited him, but thought better of it.

“I was about to say the same about you. You’re looking jacked!” And he really was. He was bigger, more vascular, and he looked harder, tougher, meaner. HE must’ve adjusted things for him, Jake thought. It was fucking working.

“Thanks.” He blushed and swooned - He noticed! He looked Miguel up and down. He was alright, passable, a match flame next to the blazing sun that was Jake.

Of course, Diego was a little biased. Miguel was objectively hot, and he had that bad boy aura that was a turn on for so many. Tall, built, handsome - and liable to fuck you up just for looking at him sideways. What’s not to like?

But Diego was a cop. He couldn’t be fraternising with a career criminal, a notorious gang member. Not just gang member - a leader!

“Jake, I–”

“It’s okay, ese. It just clicked where I know you from. You’re that puto cop that busted some of our members a few years ago. They’re still in prison you know.” Miguel’s face was dark, angry.

Fuck, thought Jake. How could he be so stupid? It didn’t even occur to him that Diego’s job could be an issue. He had to step in and fix this.

Jake stood between Miguel and Diego, “Miguel, he was just doing his job.”

Miguel spat, “His job? Fuck him and his job. You’re dead, PUTO! YOU HEAR ME! DEAD!” He screamed.

Jake looked over his shoulder at Diego, “I’m sorry, Diego. I didn’t think. Rain check?” He was pushing Miguel back toward the exit, banging on the door for a guard.

And just like that, Diego was left alone. He seethed. Did he really just choose that fucking criminal filth over me?

***

 Miguel was livid, and would not calm down.

“You for real, ese? That fucking spic pig is a friend of yours?”

“Please, Miguel, calm down.”

“Calm down? Maybe you’re a puto pig too, trying to infiltrate us, eh?”

Fuck. And he had been so close…

  • Like 6
  • Thanks 1
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY-THREE~~


Diego was in his car, trying to calm down before driving off. He was still livid that he lost to the Hermano. That fucking fucker Jake! He still wasn’t good enough for him? He was hotter than the Hermano. Bigger, more conditioned, more handsome, and he wasn’t a career criminal! If only he could get Jake to fuck him, he was sure that his skills would make him change his mind.

If Diego were thinking more clearly, he’d realise that Jake had had little choice. He was forced to live with Miguel - and now he was his cellmate! - so he had to patch things up with him, otherwise things would get very difficult for Jake indeed. Difficult, and potentially deadly. It wasn’t that Jake “chose” Miguel over Diego, or that he wanted Miguel more than Diego - but Diego could not see this fact in his current state. He was so amped up on feelings of arousal, anger, infatuation and sexual frustration, he could not think clearly, could not make rational decisions. The deluge of testosterone inundating his system did not help matters.

***

Mark, too, was not thinking clearly, but for a very different reason. It’s hard to think clearly when your rock hard cock is balls deep down some random’s throat.

He was right, Greg was great at sucking cock - a great way to end the muscle worship session.

Greg had roamed over every inch of Mark’s hot body, running the gamut of touching. From the lightest feather touch with his fingertips, to hard kneading of his glute muscles, to licking, to suckling and caressing with his mouth and tongue, to using his hard cock to trace pre along paths predetermined by muscle separations and root-sized veins.

From his traps, down along his delts, first moving forward to his juicy pecs, down the mighty crevasse between the squared-off pillows, around each block of his abdominals - all while tracing along incredible serratus and obliques - following his treasure trail down, to his mammoth quads, the muscles extra long to make up his 201cm height and finally to his calves. Great diamonds below massive hamstrings, enjoying the journey up the rear side almost as much as the front. He grabbed the massive globes of his glutes, kneading and caressing, enjoying the massive movement as the muscles flexed, he rested his cock along his spine, the valley between the mounds of muscle cocooning his cock perfectly, as he caressed his arms, the vascular roadmap a perfect guide for his fingers, his lips, his tongue.

Mark groaned as his balls rose up and dumped their load into Greg’s eager mouth.

“Ladies and Gentleman, we’re commencing our descent. In a moment the cabin crew will…”

Perfect timing, thought Mark.

***

Jake grabbed Miguel by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, “Miguel, I promise you, I’m not a cop.”

“You better fucking not be! But you’re friends with one!”

“Actually, I’m friends with loads of cops. And ambos. And fireys. Nurses. Doctors. I own a gym, a pretty famous one actually, that has discounts for first responders and medical staff - so we have loads of members from those groups. I’m friends with a lot of them, and friendly with all of them.”

“You’re not talking about BJ’s are you? That place is epic!”

“Yeah, actually, I am. You’ve heard of us?”

“Heard of you? I’ve been wanting to be a member there since I started working out as a teenager! But I could never afford it.”

“Consider it done.”

“What?”

“You’re now a lifetime member. On me.”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real. But, you can’t go around making death threats against our members.”

“That puto is a member?”

“Yes, Diego is a member, and he’s a good friend of mine. Once you get to know hi–”

“I don’t want to get to know no pigs!”

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to. How much longer on your sentence?”

“2 years, 3 months.”

“We’ll still be there. We’re actually expanding. A new BJ’s is opening across the other side of the country. And we’ve just started a new coaching service. Tell you what, you’d make a great coaching client. I’ll throw that in as well.”

“Coaching?”

“It’s… complicated.”

Jake began at the very beginning.

***

“So that’s how you can withstand the taser? And how you weren’t killed when we attacked you? And it explains the effect you had on Emilio and Javier.”

“Exactly.”

“And you can give others this same ability?”

“Not quite, we can’t give others the ability to change themselves, but we can change them whenever they want. It’s a pretty simple process.”

“How?”

“Sex. Once the sperm enters you, we have the same access to your subconscious that I have over my own and can make changes in the same way for a while.”

“So if I let you fuck me, you can turn me into a super man?”

Jake laughed, “Something like that. But I don’t have the ability any more. Something happened and I lost it somehow. If I did, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in the infirmary. I could just cum all over you and control your subconscious. Sort of like Emilio and Javier, but complete and total.”

Miguel’s dick was hard and leaking pre. He imagined every Hermano like Jake, where even seven huge men could not take them down. Jake could make all the Hermanos into super men. Massive, super strong, with incredible healing ability. It would even things up between them and the Aryans, maybe even tip the balance in the Hermanos’ favour.

Jake noticed Miguel’s arousal. “I see you like the idea.”

“Fuck yes! Who wouldn’t?”

“That’s a good point. But I thought you were straight - you don’t mind the idea of sex with a bloke?”

“If it turns me into a super man, bring it on!”

“That can certainly be arranged. But not if I’m dead, obviously. Or my brother or any family or friends are threatened. Happy to help you, but I need some quid pro quo.”

“I already told you, I don’t have the authorit–”

“You’ll make it work, I’m sure. Cancel the hit, erase the debt, and all of my family and friends - and me - are all off limits - forever. In fact, I want to be an honorary Hermano. You’re right, I’m going to need help with the Aryans.”

“Jake, I–”

“Those are the terms, ese.”

“That’s a hard - if not impossible - bargain for me to accept.”

“I promise you, it is worth it. And then some. Of course, once I’m a Hermano, and the Aryans are at war with all my brothers, they all could use some enhancement. Some help evening up the odds against the Aryans.”

Miguel groaned as he came handsfree at the thought of all the Hermanos being enhanced super men. If he was the one instrumental in making that happen - he’d be the undisputed leader of the Hermanos, forever.

“How about a demo, so you can see what you’ll get in return. We’ll need to arrange another conjugal, but I’m sure we can sort it out. After that, you let me know.”

“I can live with that.”

“In the meantime, non-enemies?” He held out his hand.

Miguel shook, his grip strong and firm.

  • Like 6
  • Thanks 1
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

So many things happened this last couple of chapters.

Diego still hasnt had a chance to be with Jake and now he is amped up is test and with nothing on his mind bt a fuck. Who would be the one to saciate his desires?... Im sure he is going to teh gym for some "release" but that will make things worst... Will it be Assad or maybe Brad?  Or our new guy Mark coming down from his flight first hand to the Gym where "BIG dreams"  are possible ???

 

And Jake has not think things through with the offer he made to Miguel. They are dangerous and making them "Super men" will not help anyone unless he talks to HIM first and change the Hermanos but how? what can they do to make them not DO evil?

 

I have  a feeling Nonna is a bigger player than we expect. We gonna see her being the mom to some big ass judge that can put a stop to Smith.

  • Like 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY-FOUR~~


“No.”

"Jake–"

“I said no, no habeas writ.”

“But, Jake-”

“No buts. I’m the client. You do what I say. Make your file notes, write your letter, cover your arse, but no writ of habeas corpus.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe I am, but it’s my mistake to make. You’ve advised me, the decision is mine to make and I’ve made it. End of discussion. Look, I get it, but trust that I have my reasons.”

“Okay, but no ‘I told you so’.”

“Deal.”

Jake hung up the phone - an unmonitored line specifically for lawyers and clients to discuss their cases - and headed out to the yard.

***

Despite his outward appearance of confidence, Jake was uncertain - more so than at any time since he entered this forsaken place.

Not yet an Aryan, the hit by the Hermanos still technically on foot, he didn’t really know where to turn. So he did the one thing that didn’t need any interaction with anyone else. He exercised.

He had done no cardio in quite some time, so decided to do sprints around the yard. Cardio fitness was quick to build up, but equally quick to lose if you didn’t maintain it. He began sprinting in intervals, each lap increasing the speed and adding in additional exercises in between intervals, burpees, handstand push ups, pistol squats, and more. As always when Jake worked out, it was an impressive display, and he gradually built up quite an audience. An audience that he didn’t even notice, his focus total and complete.

His sprinting was incredible, but most impressive was the balancing/strength work in between. Most people that sprint need to breathe deeply and quickly in between intervals, which made any balance-based exercise difficult if not impossible. Not so, Jake. Despite a speed that probably would break records if someone actually timed him, his heart and respiration rates barely increased, and he barely broke a sweat. A balls to the wall sprint over 100m/~110yds, followed immediately by a set of free handstands (perfectly vertical on uneven ground too!) dropping down so his head barely grazed the ground and pressing back up again, then immediately dropping back to balls to the wall sprint. You couldn’t not be impressed.

Johnny watched his ‘Aryan machine’ keenly. His workout was all the more impressive given he was just recently released from the infirmary. Let’s see what else he can do, thought Johnny as Jake pulled up, done with his sprinting routine. The machine wasn’t even breathing heavily!

“Jake! Good to see you recovered well. How’s your strength?”

“Hey Johnny, it’s fine.”

“Shall we test it and see?” A cheer rose up by those watching. THIS they wanted to see. Johnny was big - nearly as big as Jake - and he was strong. You don’t become leader of the Aryans if you’re not physically superior.

“I’m a little tired, Johnny, I’m not sure I’m at my best.”

“Rubbish! You just smashed it out. Perfect reps in between incredible speed. I’m sure you can handle a little bench press.”

***

“A little bench press” was, obviously, an understatement.

There was only one bench for the entire prison, but it was ultra-heavy-duty, rated for powerlifting. The inmates working out quickly abandoned their workout as Johnny approached, surrounded by an audience of a few dozen. Jake followed behind, with another few dozen followers.

Miguel managed to cosy up to Jake and whisper urgently, “You have to let him win. Convincingly.” Before he disappeared, melding into the crowd.

This whole place was fucked, thought Jake. This whole dog and pony show so Johnny, who already was leader, could “prove” that he still belonged as leader, but Jake had to let him win and let him win convincingly. Or what? He thought. He’d humiliate him, and he’d be marked to be taken out. Well, what’s one more hit on the list, he thought cynically.

Stevo and another Aryan that was at the same table when Jake first spoke to them took charge of loading up the bar. They started with one plate a side. By the time they were done, the entire yard was gathered to watch the spectacle. Around a couple of hundred inmates and a handful of guards.

Johnny, in his element, addressed the audience, “Sets of 12 reps, or until failure. The winner is the one that manages more reps with the heaviest weight. The weight will increase each set. Any assistance or intervention counts as a failed rep.” The inmates roared their approval. Jake noted even the guards seemed to pay more attention to the show, than to ensuring order.

***

“As the challenger, you call heads or tails,” Johnny said, as one of the Aryans flipped a coin.

“Tails.”

“Heads.” The crowd roared. Johnny raised his arms, asking for quiet. “I’ll go first.” The roar resumed.

Johnny set himself on the bench, and pumped out twelve perfect, textbook reps. So far, so predictable, thought Jake.

Should he tank it so early? The crowd would be disappointed. Maybe he should give them a real show?

As Johnny got up, Jake sat on the end of the bench and made a show of preparing himself mentally. Of course, he didn’t need it, he was just hamming it up for the crowd.

He performed ten perfect reps, but on the eleventh, he intentionally wobbled slightly half-way up. The crowd gasped, many booing. The twelfth rep was perfect.

Another plate was added to each end of the bar and, again, Johnny performed twelve perfect reps with ease. This time, Jake followed suit.

Another pair of plates. Finally, decent warm up weight now, thought Jake - 140kgs/308lbs (no imperial weights here, all metric so “45lb” plates and bar were “20kg” plates and bar). Johnny again performed twelve perfect reps, the crowd roared its approval. Jake soon followed suit, the crowd equally enthusiastic.

Jake did not amp up any of his levels or otherwise do anything to give himself an advantage. He didn’t think he’d need it. Besides, he was supposed to lose to Johnny anyway.

Johnny raised his arms again, calling for quiet from the crowd. His pecs jutted out beneath the jumpsuit, their pump evident even through the bright orange, heavy fabric.

“We’ve been pretty evenly matched so far. What’s say we up the ante?” The crowd exploded, even the guards were joining in. Johnny raised his arms again, waiting for the crowd to quieten down.

Jake had no idea what Johnny had in mind, but this was a perfect opportunity.

“If I win,” he shouted to be heard over the murmuring crowd, “I control the Aryans.”

An audible gasp came from the crowd, before it silenced, as though some cosmic mute button had been pressed. All eyes were on Johnny.

  • Like 8
  • Upvote 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 hour ago, Ro20316 said:

I have  a feeling Nonna is a bigger player than we expect. We gonna see her being the mom to some big ass judge that can put a stop to Smith.

Haha... you've learnt. LOL. NEVER underestimate Nonna!

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

~~FORTY-FIVE~~


Fuck! No! Jake! What have you done? thought Miguel. But, of course, it was all too late. As soon as Jake uttered the words, dared to challenge, his fate was sealed.

Either he bests Johnny and becomes leader of the Aryans, with a fucking pissed former leader gunning for him - a leader that would no doubt still have the support of the majority of the gang. Or he loses, at which point he’ll be marked for daring to challenge Johnny. Either way, Jake was fucked.

Miguel shook his head. He did like him - and he was intrigued by the whole vaccine-induced ability - and he thought they could be friends outside of this place. Inside was another matter, of course. A white guy as a Hermano? He shook his head again.

***

Who the FUCK does this guy think he is? thought Johnny. Barely arrived and he was already trying to upend the rightful order of things. One way or another, he’d have to be taught a lesson. Brother or no brother.

The gauntlet was thrown down. He had no choice but to accept. Accept and smash the ‘machine’.

He spoke loudly, so all could hear, “Agreed. And if I win?”

Jake hadn’t considered that option. “I don’t have anything to give. What do you want?”

“You.”

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

“If you have nothing to give, then I’ll take you. You would be my slave. My minion. My plaything. Mine to do with as I please.”

The murmurs from the crowd rose to a cacophony.

Felipe’s words were echoing in his head, “You’re a fucking stud, sizzling hot. You’re a prize for any of these sick fucks. Watch yourself.” They alternated with Diego’s words, “…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.”

What choice did he have now? Besides, he was confident he could beat him, even without his ability. With, it was no contest.

“Agreed.”

The crowd exploded.

Why was Johnny smiling? thought Jake.

***

The crowd surged, surrounding each challenger, some shouting words of encouragement, others admonishment. The guards should have stopped such a display - it had too much potential to devolve into a full on riot - but they were just as into the spectacle as the rest and allowed themselves to be swept up in the crowd.

The crowd was well and truly behind Johnny. The Aryans, about 75% of the prison population, didn’t want some upstart challenger as their leader. Johnny had proven himself through brutality, ruthlessness and physicality over years, not some one-trick-pony challenge. Even if Jake won, he would be trying to push diarrhoea uphill in gaining acceptance of him as their leader.

Not every Aryan was behind Johnny, a handful surrounded Jake and gave him words of encouragement. Jake tried to ignore all of them, focussing on the bench, the lift, his muscles.

Miguel intruded into his focus, “Jake! You’re definitely crazy, ese! Good luck. Dios lo bendiga.”

“Thanks Miguel, I– nnggghhhh.” Jake stumbled into Miguel as a sharp pain stabbed in his back. And another. Another, and another and one final, deeper one. It took a moment for him to register what had happened to him, even with his ability.

“Jake?” Miguel grunted as he was suddenly supporting Jake’s entire weight.

The Aryans surrounding Jake all melted back into the throng, the makeshift shank - a toothbrush crafted into a long, sharp object perfect for piercing - was being passed from Aryan to Aryan, having served its purpose and now being ‘disappeared’ to avoid any repercussions.

Jake was pale and, for the first time any of them saw, had beads of sweat building up on his forehead. “My lung,” he whispered, “the fuckers collapsed my lung.” He coughed, bright red, frothy blood on his lips. “I’m bleeding internally, severely.”

“We have to get you to the infirmary.”

“No! The… challenge.”

“Jake, forget the challenge! You’ll die!”

“No!”

Jake shut down his pain receptors, hoping to clear his mind a little. He corralled his body's healing abilities as best he could, but the damage was severe, and he couldn’t re-inflate his collapsed lung without medical assistance. His blood pressure was dropping. He was still losing blood. Fast.

“Put… pressure. Wounds–  on… back.” He struggled to speak, even without any pain. His blood pressure was still dropping, threatening his consciousness, and he could no longer get enough air to speak normally.

Miguel sat him down and leaned him forward, shocked at the amount of blood soaking all the way down his jumpsuit and pooling on the ground beneath his feet.

He tore open the jumpsuit, and swore. Five neat puncture wounds, each oozing blood - they were spurting blood earlier, but Jake’s abilities managed to stem the worst of it - on his right side, just above his diaphragm. The Aryan fuckers were either really smart, or really lucky, collapsing the right, larger lung.

Miguel lay him face down and pressed with his entire weight on the wounds, hoping to stop the bleeding. It was odd that the victim of such an attack was not groaning or writhing in pain. Fuck, he thought, he must be using his abilities. Of course, he was. Without them, he’d already be dead.

Somewhere in the back of Jake’s mind, a tiny part of him was almost giggling at the absurdity of his would-be killer - technically still his contracted killer - concerned that he might die and, ironically, the only thing currently keeping him alive.

***

Almost the entire crowd was circling Johnny, and encouraging him to beat the upstart challenger, so the crowd hadn't yet realised anything was wrong.

Jake was fading, his consciousness slipping away. As he lost more and more blood insufficient blood pressure remained to maintain proper brain function. He maximised everything he could to help him through - clotting factors, pain receptors, adrenaline, constricted blood vessels to increase blood pressure - but the damage was too extensive for self-healing. As he circled the drain, he lamented his overconfidence, his inability to heed the warnings from Diego and Felipe.

As the final spark faded and blackness overtook him, his brain tried to activate one final defence mechanism, one final, desperate attempt at survival.

***

Johnny, surrounded by the crowd, looked over at his second in command, Stevo, who nodded slightly. Johnny broke into a huge smile, laughing along with the crowd.

Jake now knows, he thought, challenge the Aryans - the leader of the Aryans no less - at your peril.

Even if he were to somehow survive, he was now Johnny’s. His ongoing torment, never-ending humiliation and degradation, would serve as a warning to others, a deterrent. Dare to challenge the Aryans, suffer for a lifetime - if you’re unlucky enough to survive.

  • Like 5
  • Thanks 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Fuck! Jake stuidity got the ebst of him and now he is dying. He tought The Aryans were gonna accept that challenge just as easy as he said it??? That was just stupid.

Now his last resourse is Adreline and i wonder what will the response be ona body that has been amped up in many lvl. The adreline will make him go berserked.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..