Vaccinated - A Continuation

[mmvmgo2011]

20 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

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.

It's always been Jake's major flaw - leaping before thinking things through. That, and overconfidence. The testosterone certainly hasn't helped him with that trait.

Berserk Jake, huh? Sounds hot!

[mmvmgo2011]

~~FORTY-SIX~~

Miguel managed to staunch the bleeding, at least externally, who knows what was happening internally? But Jake was now unconscious.

You don’t become a gang member without picking up some rudimentary first aid, it being a given that some of your brothers will need it at some point. Violence was part and parcel of gang life.

Satisfied the clots in the wounds would hold, at least for a while, he flipped Jake over. He stripped off his jumpsuit and placed it under Jake’s lumbar spine. He raised Jake’s legs, resting his ankles against his delts–

Get your minds out of the gutter. Miguel is trying to raise Jake’s legs and lower his head to get sufficient blood back to his brain. Otherwise known as the Trendelenburg position. It’s a legitimate medical technique. Let’s get Jake to survive first, then we can get back to the sexual positions.

He felt for Jake’s pulse. It was weak and rapid. Not good. But he was still breathing, and still had a heartbeat. He wasn’t dead. Yet.

***

As blackness overtook him, Jake was no longer aware of anything. But his body’s subconscious continued to work overtime, trying to keep him alive. Sensing a lack of blood, it immediately set the marrow producing red blood cells as quickly as possible, allocating almost all of his body’s resources to that one task.

The abundance of testosterone suffusing his system was a saving grace, and may be the factor that ends up saving his life. Testosterone’s effects on increasing red blood cell production had two-fold benefits for Jake in his current predicament. He had more red blood cells than the average person, so a major loss of them was less catastrophic, and his body was also primed to produce red blood cells at a rate that was far above average, so he could replace the loss more quickly. Again, if he survives, it could well be this that ends up saving him.

His subconscious also increased his thirst sky high, as if he’d been walking through a desert with no water for days on end. The idea being the sack of meat and bones would be compelled to drink, increasing the volume of fluid in the body, which could then be used to restore blood volume. Jake’s subconscious had determined low blood volume was the absolute priority, and allocated the body’s resources and abilities accordingly. It also continued to strengthen the blood clots keeping his blood where it should be, piling on more platelets.

The collapsed lung was also a problem, but that was something that couldn’t be fixed without external assistance.

Finally, it sparked his adrenal glands to produce even more adrenaline, trying to restore consciousness.

***

Jake flickered back to consciousness as sufficient blood flow returned to his brain. It took him a moment to remember where he was, what had happened. As he returned, he recalled his ability.

Reviewing his subconscious, it was ugly. Collapsed lung, hypovolaemia, secondary malignant hypotension, arterial bleeding in several locations, thankfully now staunched by clots. At least for now.

“W- wa- wat- water” he whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak. Miguel - the only person still paying any attention to him - did not hear over the din of the crowd.

Jake raised his hand trying to pull him towards his face, lacking sufficient strength. But Miguel noticed the movement and leaned in.

“Wa- w- wat… water.”

Miguel looked around, a guard! He ran over, grabbing his arm trying to get his attention.

The guard spun around, fury on his face. Fuck. Galloway. “Get your fucking hands off me inmate!”

“FuckGallowaywedon’thavetime!Jake’sbeenattacked!Heneedswaterandimmediatemedicalattention!”

Galloway struggled to understand him with all the noise, and Miguel was running his words together in a panic.

Miguel, frustrated, used his considerable muscle to yank Galloway after him, ignoring Galloway’s threats and attempts to pull away. Galloway was moments away from tasing the inmate when he saw Jake on the ground. Shit! Fuck!

He didn’t so much care about the inmate as he cared about his own arse. He was one of the guards that was supposed to be keeping order, preventing exactly the sort of thing lying on the grass in front of him.

He clicked his radio, “Medical Emergency! Exercise yard! Medical Emergency! I need water and a medic! NOW!”

Jake was fading again, his brain struggling for consciousness. But just before the blackness overtook him, he managed a smile.

What the fuck is he smiling at? thought Miguel. Maybe he was dying and he was smiling at the heavenly afterlife, he thought. He silently whispered a prayer for his new not-quite-friend, non-enemy.

***

The medic - a first-aid trained guard - raced over to Galloway. One look at the scene, and he called for an emergency page of the nurse. As ridiculous as it sounded, the nurse was the only one with authority to call for an ambulance per prison policy.

By now, the crowd was realising something had gone down, and a large circle was forming around Jake.

He slowly faded back to consciousness - Miguel’s prayers for his afterlife ever so slightly premature (not that Jake believed in any of that guff, but if he were conscious at the time, he’d have appreciated the thought). The medic tilted his head and gave him some water to drink.

To Jake, it was the sweetest thing that had ever touched his lips. Nothing could, probably nothing would, ever seem as satisfying. His body, desperate to replenish his blood, needed fluid to do so, and so his subconscious was triggering every reward pathway in his brain, every desire trigger - and Jake was happy to let it do so. He continued to drink, slowly at first, gradually drinking more and more, to prevent nausea and vomiting. He downed the whole 2L/~½gal.

“More.” His voice sounded stronger, and he no longer felt as though he was going to fade into unconsciousness any moment.

***

Johnny broke through the circle - actually, it was more accurate to say the circle parted for him. He was simultaneously annoyed and amazed that Jake was still alive. The report he’d received was that the fucker had been shanked five times, right up to the hilt. He shouldn’t have been able to survive that.

“Oh, no! Jake?! What’s wrong? Did the exertion of the challenge prove too much for you?” Talk about hamming it up.

It was patently obvious that Jake had been attacked. The entire ground beneath him was soaked in his blood. But Johnny kept up the façade.

“If you’re unable to continue, and need to forfeit… well, that’s unfortunate. For you.” The Aryans in the crowd sniggered, the others, including the Hermanos, grumbled quietly. It was one thing to attack someone, but to gloat, to rub it in? Even career criminals had standards. Well, some of them did.

Jake tried to stand, but he could only manage to sit, for now. “I’m not forfeiting, Johnny.”

Johnny legitimately did a double take at that. He WASN’T forfeiting? This guy was fucking insane.

***

Miguel was stunned. Jake really was crazy.

He leaned in and whispered so only Jake could hear. Well, maybe Jake and the medic. “Jake, no! You don’t have the strength to stand, let alone bench.”

Miguel was right, of course, but as the water he’d consumed continued to be absorbed by his body, he was feeling better, regaining some strength. It was all an illusion, of course. He felt no pain because he’d disabled his pain receptors. If he strained too much, he might dislodge one or more clots and bleed out. Bench pressing massive weights not the ideal activity, then? And he'd have the strength of a kitten, especially with his ability to breathe compromised.

“Miguel, I know what I’m doing. Where’s that extra water?”

He smiled! The crazy fucker smiled! Maybe the blood loss had adversely affected his brain?

[mmvmgo2011]

~~FORTY-SEVEN~~

The crazy fucker was smiling! What the fuck? Maybe he hit his head as he collapsed? Johnny thought.

It didn’t matter any way. He was going to take advantage, whether he was dead or alive. His thoughts were interrupted as Jake spoke up.

“I’m going to fucking enjoy beating you even more now, Johnny,” he said, as he stuck his hand into his jumpsuit, rubbing his massive bulge.

Okay, thought Johnny, the guy really had lost his marbles. He must’ve done a number on his head.

Jake needed any advantage he could get, and getting into Johnny's head was about the only option he had available to him. If that meant showing arousal due to his supreme confidence that he would win, then that’s what he needed to do.

“When I win - and I WILL win - and I take control of the Aryans from you,” he groaned, his bulge swelling. He was getting aroused! “I’ll have control over you. And you’re going to regret what you’ve done to me today.” He smiled and groaned again as his bulge swelled bigger still. How BIG was the fucker, anyway? thought Johnny.

***

For the first time in his life, Jake struggled to get hard. His body was fighting against him - even as he used the ability to ramp up arousal and physiological processes. He just didn’t have the blood volume, his body balked at sending what precious little blood he had into his dick.

He fought his subconscious, overriding key safety mechanisms in his body - mechanisms designed to keep him alive.

The medic arrived with another 2L of water. Jake opened his gullet and poured all 2L straight into his throat, his thirst near unquenchable. “More.  Something with electrolytes. A ‘sports’ drink.”

He immediately felt his body’s defence mechanisms loosen a little, fight back a little less. His body sensed it now had 4L of fluid to work with. It was still not enough - his kidneys needed to process some of that out to clear toxins as his body worked to replenish his blood - but it was a good start.

Jake smiled as he felt a drop of pre work its way through his substantial urethra and bead at his meatus. He groaned, as his cock swelled. It was only half-mast, but he had to work with what he had.

***

The medic had a pack of powdered electrolytes, which he dissolved in another 2L of water. Jake greedily gulped it down, another 2L of electrolyte-rich fluid exactly what his body needed. He felt like he could stand, but he didn’t want to risk it quite just yet, in case he stumbled or showed any weakness. Right now, appearances were everything.

He kept taunting Johnny, as his body continued responding positively to his fluid and, now, electrolyte intake. “What shall I make you do first, former-leader? Hmm? Shine my shoes? Or maybe polish my knob.” He stroked his slowly hardening cock for emphasis. “Mmmm, yeah, big, strong, former leader forced to kneel and suck my cock. Nnnngggghh. Fucking hot.”

The crowd were mostly standing around in stunned silence. The Aryans, mostly shocked that he was even alive, the others, silently cheering him on. The Aryans had ruled the prison with utmost brutality and violence. New management might be a chance to change things up. At the very least, it couldn’t be any worse.

Jake was ready to stand, amping up his adrenaline, constricting his blood vessels to increase his blood pressure and ensure that he didn’t pass out as he stood from lack of blood to the brain.

He stood, successfully, without any assistance, without showing any weakness. Barely. He was, as expected, weak as a kitten. And even though he did not pass out, he saw stars and had tunnel vision as he stood, rushing sound in his ears as his blood pressure tanked. The volume of his blood was improving, but it was dilute, barely enough red blood cells to oxygenate his entire body. The collapsed lung magnified the problem.

Right now, he could barely see himself lifting an empty bar, let alone 180kg/~397lbs - the next increment. Until they failed to lift 12 reps, the weight would increase by an entire plate each set. So what the fuck was he going to do? Losing was NOT an option.

***

If he couldn’t win by lifting, then he had to win by Johnny failing. Lifting massive weights was almost as much a mental game as it was the physicality of it.

Jake’s cock swelled further as his body continued to absorb the ingested fluids and electrolytes, and Jake’s setting of heightened arousal and physiological processes needed for his cock to harden were finally being followed by his body. Apparently, there were portions of his brain that even his subconscious could not override. He groaned with arousal.

He pulled his cock out through the jumpsuit’s opening, stroking it slowly, enjoying the sensations. Everything felt different, almost muted, as his body continued its recovery, but it was still arousing, pleasurable.

“See my cock, Johnny? You better get used to it. You’ll be getting to know it intimately.” A bead of pre built up at the tip. Jake smiled broadly, almost a grin. “Mmmmm, yeah. See that pre-ejaculate? Maybe you’d like a little precursor, a small taste of the ambrosia you’ll be suckling on, desperate for?”

“You must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you hit the ground, mate,” Johnny said.

Galloway piped up, “Alright, enough of that now. Put away your penis, inmate.”

Jake laughed, “Or what? Do we have to go through that charade all over again? In front of all my inmate friends?”

Jake’s cock surged as Galloway blanched. Yes! His cock was almost at full mast, almost back to normal sensation. He could feel an orgasm building, a chance to ejaculate. He closed his eyes, focussing all his attention and energy on cumming.

Now that he knew he could achieve orgasm, to ejaculate, he focussed on memories and, in particular, his memories of using his sperm ability to control his slaves, to create super men, minions desperate for his cock, his seed, desperate to milk and suckle his godly nectar.

That’s right, he remembered. He remembered everything. Better yet, his ability was restored. He wasn’t exactly sure how or why, but somehow as the life was draining from him, his brain ‘reset’, which removed the block on his memory, and the change to his sperm ability. He understood now why HE and Brad and Amber were so cagey, why they were hiding things from him. He would deal with them if - WHEN - he survived this ordeal and got the fuck out of this place.

***

He groaned, his cock rock hard. He was ready. He only had one chance, so he’d better be ready.

His cock swelled as his balls pulled up, he was right on the edge. His timing, his aim, everything had to be perfect. As his ejaculatory muscles began pumping, he flexed his arse and core, giving the first few pumps a bit of extra distance. Unfortunately, a few pumps is all he had, his dehydrated body only able to devote a tiny fraction of a fraction of its precious fluid resources. But it was enough, it had to be.

He’d always had great aim, and distance. Thankfully, today was no different. His first pump of cum arced up and struck Johnny in the face. Unfortunately, his second pump dislodged one of the arterial clots. “Miguel, pressure on the wounds!”

His cock began deflating almost instantly, the orgasm and ejaculation cut short, a dribble of cum leaking from the tip. Jake used his fingers to scoop up the cum and brushed it against Miguel’s mouth.

“Urgh, Jake, what the fuck, ese?!”

“Shh… enjoy the ride… my non-enemy.” Miguel flipped him over and put pressure on the wounds. Jake focussed his attention on clotting the arterial breach, so he could enjoy a hard cock to go with the overwhelming arousal he felt. That, and not dying would be nice, too.

***

“Urgh, FUCK! You’re going to pay for that you fucking faggot!” Johnny screamed as he wiped Jake’s cum from his face, his mouth. He made as if to rush Jake, but Galloway stepped in between, “Back off, inmate.”

Johnny growled, “You better move out the way, Galloway. There’s one of you and a hundred of us.”

Galloway ignored the threat, “Keep going, Johnny, at this rate, you’ll die in solitary.”

Jake smiled, even as his face was ground into the grass soaked with his blood. It was too much to hope that he’d cum into an open-mouthed Johnny, but he counted on Johnny trying to wipe away his cum, getting enough of his little workers in the right place. Once he maximised his body’s clotting ability, he focussed on his sperm, instructing them to burrow.

[Ro20316]

12 hours ago, mmvmgo2011 said:

That’s right, he remembered. He remembered everything. Better yet, his ability was restored. He wasn’t exactly sure how or why, but somehow as the life was draining from him, his brain ‘reset’, which removed the block on his memory, and the change to his sperm ability. He understood now why HE and Brad and Amber were so cagey, why they were hiding things from him. He would deal with them if - WHEN - he survived this ordeal and got the fuck out of this place.

That twist ala " Edge of Tomorrow" but turned around. He regained the ability cause he lost most of the blood and sperm that "contolled" that part of him and now with new blood his system has been rebooted.

Did he learn his lesson? and remembering what he did and how he acted would change how he will do things now?

 

There are so many things that can happen and im here for them

[mmvmgo2011]

32 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

Did he learn his lesson? and remembering what he did and how he acted would change how he will do things now?

All excellent questions... and what does he think about what his friends did, and how they hid it from him? How will he "deal with them"? More great questions, if I do say so myself.

[Ro20316]

5 hours ago, mmvmgo2011 said:

All excellent questions... and what does he think about what his friends did, and how they hid it from him? How will he "deal with them"? More great questions, if I do say so myself.

WAIT! We, well I forgot about Brad. He had a connection with Jake and now it's probably gone and he will know something must had happened

[mmvmgo2011]

~~FORTY-EIGHT~~

Smith pulled into his garage, glad his day was over. Being a prosecutor was a stressful job. A senior prosecutor, even more so. The worse the crimes, the worse the criminals. And if you’re a crooked prosecutor, well, then your job is even more stressful, especially when you make stupid mistakes like he did today with Robertson.

But Mina would take care of that. He was certain.

He pressed the remote and closed the garage door. As he walked inside, he flicked on the lights, pulled his tie loose and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, relaxing. He left his keys and briefcase by the door, and headed for the liquor cabinet in his lounge room.

He poured himself a double bourbon and sank into his favourite armchair. “Hey Siri, play me something relaxing.” Slow, mellow jazz began playing from speakers artfully hidden around the room.

He took a swig of the drink and sank back into the comfortable chair, closing his eyes and lolling his head back in the headrest.

“You takea my Jake away. But youa sit and relax with da music and da drink. Shame for you!”

Smith nearly hit the ceiling. Dale Smith was not easily scared, not easily cowed. As a senior prosecutor, he faced threats all the time, often from serious criminals - gangs and other organised crime syndicates. He’d never felt as disquieted as he did seeing this little old Italian grandmother sitting on his couch in his living room, staring daggers at him.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“You will leta my Jake go. Come si dice… dropa da case.”

“You didn’t answer my question, old woman. I’m not dropping anything. You think you’re the first person to try and threaten me?” he snorted, “I’m a senior prosecutor. I’ve had criminal enforcers, thugs ten times your size try and come after me, lady. Huge guys that could snap my neck as easily as they breathed. They were a threat. You? You’re nothing. You’re no threat. Now get the FUCK out of my house, before I have the cops arrest you. You don’t want to spend your last days on this earth in prison do you, dearie?”

English was not her first language, but everyone could pick up on tone and inflection. And she was fucking pissed at his condescending manner.

“I just a olda lady that need help ina my home. You bully anda criminal. I tella you once. You no listen, you… vaffanculo, come si dice… subirne le conseguenze–”

“Yes, yes, I’ll suffer the consequences. Get the fuck out of my house you senile old bat. And if I ever find you in here again, you WILL be arrested.” Smith got up and walked over to the old bag. Grabbing her by the elbow, he yanked her up off his couch and manhandled her out of his house, slamming the door shut.

Nonna was incensed. How dare he put his hands on her?! Did his mother not teach him any manners, any respect for his elders?! He would learn, one way or another. She gingerly climbed down the front steps, her arthritis flaring up, as she planned for le conseguenze.

***

Another guard approached Galloway, the senior guard on duty. “Maybe we should shut down the yard, put the inmates on lockdown?” he whispered in his ear.

As the senior guard, it was his call to make, his responsibility. He’d considered that as soon as he saw Jake lying in a pool of his own blood, but then he’d decided against it. It would just draw even more attention to the incident, and how and why the guards had failed to prevent it. No, he’d decided they would, as far as possible, just continue on as if it was a normal, incident-free day in the yard.

“No,” he whispered back, “that would just draw attention to the incident. As you were.”

The other guard stepped back, looking about warily, disagreeing with Galloway, but falling in line.

***

“Leave him be, Galloway,” Jake said, “it’s not Johnny's fault. He’s just desperate to suck cock. My cock.”

Some in the crowd laughed, many scowled, Johnny balked, “Galloway, you better take this fucker to the hospital, he’s lost his marbles.”

Miguel had successfully helped Jake stop the bleeding. It was only fair that Jake repay the favour. Jake flipped over slowly, carefully, ensuring that he did not disturb the clots keeping him alive. His cock remained hard, not quite it’s usual diamond-hard, but it was still impressive. Impressive, and imposing.

Jake gave Miguel a shot of dopamine, as he fired nerve endings all throughout his erogenous zones, his nipples, cock, balls, taint and hole.

Miguel moaned, his eyes rolled back in his head, as crashing waves of pleasure smashed through him. Pleasure like he’d never experienced before. His cock felt like it was being stimulated from the inside out (funny about that). As Jake turned it all off, he whispered to him, “just a small taste of the thanks you’ll get for saving my life,” and he winked.

Initially, Miguel was confused, still a little dazed, his brain struggling to process so much pleasure, all at once. Needless to say, he was rock hard. But as the elation faded, he realised - Jake’s cum! - his ability must be back. Fuck, he thought, that was mind-blowing, and he said it was just a taste.

Jake watched Miguel’s face, as realisation hit him. He also noticed his tented bulge, so Jake helped it along a bit. He amped up his testosterone, instructing Miguel’s balls to produce a supra-natural torrent of the magical elixir. Miguel’s cock twitched, hardening even further as his balls began seething and effervescing, struggling to produce the masses of testosterone Jake demanded of them. He also set other physiological parameters, ensuring the masses of testosterone would remain free in his bloodstream. Remembering their deal, he set an expiry of around 24 hours. But something told him Miguel wouldn’t need 24 hours, he’d be back giving Jake whatever he wanted, anything, everything for more.

Jake’s own cock swelled, his arousal increasing, though it was all muted and subdued. Jake couldn’t wait for his body to restore itself back to normal. Is this how those with erectile dysfunction felt? Poor bastards.

Now… what to do with Johnny.

[mmvmgo2011]

~~FORTY-NINE~~

“Well?” Johnny asked. “We’ve still got a competition to complete.”

“Sure. It’s your turn, Johnny.”

So it was.

Johnny lay back on the bench, setting himself for the 180kg lift. Jake didn’t want to make any changes to Johnny that were too obvious. This was not the time or place for that. He could’ve had Johnny suck him off - nnnnnggghhhh, yeah, just the thought had his arousal in overdrive - but he didn’t want anything too obviously linked to him. Not yet, anyway.

Jake did the same for Johnny that he did for Miguel, triggering all his erogenous zones.

Johnny groaned as his cock swelled, his jumpsuit impressively tented. And he writhed on the bench as Jake amped up the sensations, the pleasure. Johnny had no idea what was happening to him, but fuck it felt good.

“What’s the matter Johnny?” Jake asked mockingly, “is the competition too much for you?”

Johnny growled, deep and low, setting his hands on the bar, determined to make this lift, in spite of the intense feelings of pleasure washing over him. It was impossible to ignore them, but he was going to work through them. There’s no way he was giving that cunt the pleasure of seeing him fail.

As his knuckles whitened with his grip on the bar, Jake triggered an earth-shaking orgasm. Johnny’s entire body flexed and pumped with the ejaculation, his cock bouncing wildly as it fired off blast after blast of cum. His jumpsuit was soaked with his cum, the aroma of sex permeated the yard. Johnny groaned, the feelings indescribably good. He wanted to grab his cock so bad, to extend the feelings, slide his foreskin along his glans. But he’d already touched the bar, started the lift, if he let go now, it would count as a failure.

The onlookers didn’t know what to think, some found it funny, many were aroused, some wondering what the fuck Johnny was playing at, why didn’t he just get on with beating the upstart?

Jake continued to find ways to stall, giving his body time to absorb more fluid and electrolytes, his clots time to strengthen. If his plan worked, he would only needed to make one rep.

***

JAKE! Nooooooo! Brad sensed the piercing pain that Jake felt, could sense Jake bleeding out, his lung collapsing.

FUCK! He sensed Jake furiously making changes to his body, amplifying and focussing his healing abilities. There was nothing more Brad could do. By the time he got there, if they’d even let him in, he’d have long-since bled out. He could only hope that Jake’s strong body, his strong will, was enough for him to pull through.

He cursed himself for not getting Felipe’s number when they visited. He called Diego.

“Diego! Jake’s dying! He’s been attacked. He’s bleeding out! Please, you have to call Felipe, make sure he gets medical attention.” The anguished cry on the other end of the line was uncomfortable to listen to. “Diego! Please! Hurry!” He hung up.

***

Diego gathered himself and dialled Felipe. He answered.

“Felipe! Jake has been attacked! Please, he’s dying! You have to get to him, get him medical–” his voice cracked, a lump in his throat making it difficult to speak - JAKE! NO! - “Please, ese, Hurry!”

Felipe was on break, but he raced out to the yard. He was already paging the nurse.

***

By the time Felipe made it to the yard, the emergency - though still critical - was over. Fucking Galloway! he thought. He thinks he’s top shit, talks a tough game, but is actually a shit guard, thought Felipe.

***

Johnny’s entire body itched intensely. He had tried to ignore the feeling, at first. It started in his feet, the soles of his feet itching mildly, but the feeling spread, and as it spread the intensity increased - finally to a point where he could withstand it no longer, he had to scratch. He writhed around on the bench trying to get relief. He wanted nothing more than to get up and roll around on the ground, scratching his entire body at once.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying desperately to ignore the intense itching. He was about to lift the bar from the rack when a shout rang out across the yard.

“GALLOWAY!”

It was the nurse.

“Galloway, you need to lockdown the yard! Get these inmates out of here! NOW!”

If looks could kill, Galloway’s stare would’ve taken out Ralph. “You heard the man! To the cells, GO!”

The crowd grumbled and complained, some even booed, but eventually most of them complied. Probably something to do with the dozen or so sniper battlements around the yard. Nah, couldn’t possibly be that. Though none of the inmates realised that there were only ever two, maybe three snipers actually ready to fire. The prison was run on the cheap in every respect, this being no exception.

The only inmates remaining were Johnny and Stevo and the other Aryan that had been loading up the plates, Miguel and, obviously, Jake.

“You too Johnny, MOVE IT!”

“The competition is on hold, right? Force majeure?”

“Agreed,” said Jake. As soon as Jake agreed, Johnny let go of the bar and began scratching all over. Relief washing over him. He headed to the cells, the other two Aryans following close behind. Jake could’ve been extra malicious and made the itching permanent - at least until the next time his sperm gave him access to Johnny’s subconscious - but he reset all changes as Johnny left the yard.

“Quiet, don’t speak,” said Ralph, who had already called for an ambulance. Jake smiled as he looked upon Ralph’s gorgeous face. Even as concern marred it.

“It’s okay, Ralph. I have a collapsed right lung, hypovolaemia, secondary malignant hypotension," he stopped to breathe, "and arterial breaches, currently clotted, from five puncture wounds at my posterior lower thoracic. The hypotension is easing as I’ve had 6L of water," another breath, "2L with dissolved electrolytes. But I have grade 4, life-threatening anaemia, making it difficult for me to stand without syncope," breath, "though my body is producing RBCs at about four times the average rate.”

As he finished speaking, his stomach rumbled, long and loud. His body was craving protein. It needed protein to finish repairs, and to produce new red blood cells.

Of course, thought Ralph, his ability. He was impressed, amazed, and concerned all at once. Those were severe issues. “Turn around, let’s see the wounds.”

They were DEEP, he’d need broad spectrum antibiotics to prevent sepsis. Ralph worked quickly, cleaning and dressing the wounds. By the time he was done, the ambulance officers were bringing the stretcher over.

“Miguel, thanks. My brother – please. At least hold off until I’m back.”

He looked uncomfortable, “I will try, ese. But I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I can ask. Thank you.”

They loaded Jake onto the stretcher and took him to the nearest hospital, Galloway and Ralph along for the ride.

***

By the time Felipe returned to the break room, his phone was blowing up with notifications. All of them Diego, desperate for news.

Fe: He’s alive. Was attacked. Severe blood loss. Collapsed lung. Off to hospital. He should pull through.

Di: Fuck, thank you!

Fe: I didn’t do anything. By the time I got there, it was basically over. Seems like one of the Hermanos helped him, Miguel the 2IC. He’s certainly something - an all-but-Aryan’s life being saved by a Hermano… unheard of. Have to get back to my shift. He’s at Alpha Memorial, but I doubt they’ll allow visitors. I’ll keep you posted.

Di: Thanks, mate. I owe you, again.

The Hermano, again! Diego's emotions were mixed. Thankful that he was there to save his Jake, but seething, wishing that he was the one to save him.

***

But mostly, Diego felt relief. If something had happened to Jake… he didn’t want to think about that possibility.

He messaged Brad, even though he’d already know -

Di: He’s okay. Lots of blood loss, collapsed lung - but should pull through.

Br: Thanks, mate. He’s already feeling stronger. Will keep you updated. Do you know which hospital?

Di: Thanks, much appreciated. Alpha Memorial.

***

What Brad didn’t tell Diego, what concerned him almost as much as the life threatening injuries, was the fact that Jake seemed to have regained the sperm ability. He wondered if he also regained his memories.

He headed off to Alpha Memorial, prepared for the worst. On the way, he messaged HIM and Amber, giving them a heads up, and preparing them for battle, should it come to that. He didn’t tell Scott anything, yet. He didn’t want him to see his uncle as a megalomaniacal sadistic berserker if he could avoid it. None of them did - want to see that, that is - but he had to do what needed to be done.

[Ripped]

11 hours ago, mmvmgo2011 said:

Nonna was incensed. ... She gingerly climbed down the front steps, her arthritis flaring up, as she planned for le conseguenze.

ooooo, this should be good.

Reminds me of another Sicilian.

Quote

You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders - the most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia" - but only slightly less well-known is this: "Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line"!

[panama]

Impressive from every point of view ! What a great story.