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Diego is READY for teh changes and his body is craving that of what it felt when Jake was the one controling but now HE has dopne a better job. Jake wanted his people to be tehre for him whereas HE is working for them to be their best.


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Ralph held the swipe card against the reader, pushing the door open as the lock clicked open. Incredibly, his patient looked completely healed, less than 48 hours after nearly being beaten to death. Jake was still sleeping, his broad chest rising and falling slowly. Ralph could watch him sleep all day, it was mesmerising. He must’ve been dreaming, as he had a slight smile on his face, and Ralph watched the covers tent and his morning wood rise up. It took considerable self-control for him not to take advantage of it. He busied himself with the voluminous paperwork caused by the recent incidents - and that was the sanitised versions of events, he thought - waiting for Jake to wake up.


Scott lay awake, unable to sleep, his mind racing. He still did not know what to make of his uncle’s rampage. It had to be the fault of the vaccine, right? It HAD to be. But then why hadn’t HE gone on a megalomaniacal rampage? And from what the others were saying, he couldn’t even talk to him about it, ask him what he was thinking.

One thing he did know. He was going to become a jacked beast. The best the world had ever seen. His dick swelled, and he groaned as he grabbed it under the covers. The sight of enhanced Assad was seared into his memory. Some people have events or memories that shape their lives, that lay the foundation for their entire future. Assad totally jacked was just such a memory for Scott, reinforcing the path he had already chosen and started on.

Uncle Jake will be proud, he thought, and supportive. Unfortunately, that thought reminded him of Jason’s complete lack of support, his indifference to Scott’s wants, dreams, desires and life goals. And his jealousy and warped sense of his own sickness, he thought. The only reasons he was going after Uncle Jake. He can’t admit to himself what he is, what he wants. Scott would change that, somehow, someday.


 “Good morning, stud.”

Ralph looked up from his paperwork. “Stud, huh? I see it’s definitely a good morning for you,” he laughed, indicating the tenting covers.

“Hey, it’s just a normal, natural consequence of having a dick,” he feigned offence, laughing.

“I’d love to help you take care of things, but a guard is due any moment.”

Jake scowled, for a moment he had forgotten where he was.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. In all seriousness, though, I’m going to have to discharge you when the guard arrives. I’ve left a fresh jumpsuit in the bathroom for after your shower.”

“I suspected as much. It’s fine, I’m ready.”

And, he was. Now that his body was healed, he resumed focus on his muscle, his strength and stamina. The only problem? Increased mass and strength took time, especially with the crap food and limited training opportunities he was currently working with. Maybe he should’ve taken up Ralph on his coeliac idea.

The Hermanos’ attack was a close call, and Jake didn’t want another repeat of that. He was under no illusions that there wouldn’t be further attempts against him while he was in this forsaken place. And, he was yet to confront the Aryans about their branding bullshit. That would go down well, he was sure.

“I wish I could do more,” Ralph said, concern marring his otherwise gorgeous face. “I will call your lawyer as soon as I leave here and follow up what’s going on about your bail hearing. Something’s not right - it’s been a few days now, and still nothing.”

“Thanks. That would be good. Truth be told, I’m not looking forward to the showdown with the Aryans.”

“I don’t blame you. I know this goes without saying, but be careful. If anything were to happen to you…”

“I know, I know.”

“Maybe you should just get the tattoo. There are removal options these days–”

“Fuck off, no way. Removal isn’t perfect, and you know it’s not going to be some discreet thing that will be easy to hide, it’ll be some huge fuck-off swastika-crap. Fuck that. Over my dead body.”

“Jake, don’t say that! If you’re not careful it may well come to tha–”

The click of the door lock interrupted him. A guard, here to transfer his now-former patient.


Jake hadn’t seen this guard before, he was an unknown quantity.

“Morgan, is the inmate ready for transfer?”

“I’m just finalising the paperwork, and he’s changing into a fresh jumpsuit.”

Jake took the hint. He scrambled out of bed clothed only in his briefs, heading to the bathroom. Despite the incandescence of his body on full display, the guard barely glanced at Jake. Ralph purposefully avoided looking at him, studiously considering the papers in front of him - now was not the time to become aroused.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Asked the guard, his hand on his baton.

Fuck. A stickler.

“The jumpsuit is in the bathroom.”

“Stay there and don’t move. Morgan, watch him,” the guard ordered as he went to retrieve the clothing, checking it carefully for contraband as he returned.

“Drop ‘em and bend over,” he demanded of Jake.

Jake nearly rolled his eyes, but quietly complied. He pulled his briefs to the floor and bent over, spreading his fantastic arse cheeks towards the guard. Porn definitely lied, he thought, not for the first time. There was nothing hot about a strip search. Nothing. Whatever arousal remained from his morning wood evaporated instantly.

“Dress. Hurry up,” he barked, throwing the jumpsuit at Jake so he needed to pick it up off the floor. Jake’s anger flared, guards pulled power-trip bullshit like that all the time– No! Do what must be done, Jake. He breathed deeply, and hurriedly dressed in silence. He would need to keep his aggression in check - not easy with torrents of testosterone coursing through his veins.

“You know the drill, wrists and ankles. Let’s go!”

Jake’s temper flared again, but he ruthlessly tamped it down. So he’s a cunt, he thought. He’s a prison guard, imagine the fuckers he deals with day in and day out. No surprise he’s a cunt.

Jake held out his wrists, the shackles closing uncomfortably tightly, because of course they did.

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Chapters 33 to 36 have to be my favorites for now, @mmvmgo2011. Diego and Mark are both goddamn alphas, and I like their enthusiasm/need to grow even bigger. The quick descriptions of their strong heartbeats is just the cherry on top of this gigantic cake (again: thank you for these details.) That might be also why I love chapter 29 hehe. Am excited to see this story unfold. 

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Jake still has a long road ahead of him. He has made some enemies that would love for him to rot in jail. It will be difficult but not impossible to get him out

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Thanks for the great comments. Not to give too much away, but there are many alphas, or alphas-in-the-making - but, really, like Highlander, there can be only one.

So far, that's been Jake, but he does have a tough road ahead, some might say deservedly so, and whether he remains top dog is yet to be determined. 😉

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Nonna was worried. She hadn’t seen her Jake in days now. Hadn’t heard his car or his bike. He hadn’t returned her calls. Something was wrong. It was not like him not to drop by and check in on her. Even if she didn’t have any meals prepped for him, he always stopped in to ask after her, ask if she needed anything done around the house. Forget the house, if only she was forty years younger. Speaking of meal prep, she had a whole week’s worth in her fridge waiting for him to pick up.

She didn’t have any other numbers for him or his family or friends, so she did the only thing she could think of to find out what had happened - she got in a cab and headed to HIS place.


Diego’s morning wood felt incredible, rock hard and throbbing with each heartbeat. His entire body still tingled, his muscles felt ultra-hard and pumped.

He got up, naked as usual, and wandered into the bathroom. Pissing with a raging hard-on was always an exercise in acrobatics, but as his bladder squeezed and a fire-hose torrent of piss shot out his cock, he nearly came then and there. The feeling of the piss pressing out on his urethra was unreal, and just the act of grasping his cock to aim it into the bowl was firing off nerve impulses that were driving him wild. He moaned as he shook the last drops from his meatus.

He stepped up to the mirror to shave, his usually dark 5-o’clock shadow seemingly extra thick this morning, the one-day-growth stubble more like two. And his face looked harder, more angular. He smiled, the transformation from hard-arsed cop about to fuck you up to angelic, boyish, dimpled charm particularly pronounced.

He took his time shaving, enjoying the experience. As he lathered up his stubble, he imagined Jake with a straight razor, expertly and lovingly gliding the blade along his skin. Diego’s hard-on raged on.

He finished shaving and went to have some breakfast, feeling ravenous. He usually didn’t eat much in the mornings, but this morning his body was craving calories, craving the protein and micronutrients it needed to build the muscle demanded of it. He cooked up some sausage, egg, tomato and mushroom, washed it all down with milk and protein powder, and went back up to change into his uniform. Yeah, he had a fry-up naked. He liked to live dangerously.

He would have to hit up Assad for a new uniform. Everything was tight; too tight. Sure, it usually was, shirt-sleeves straining, buttons barely holding it closed over his chest, butt, bulge and thighs stretching seams - but he was sure he was going to tear something today.

He gave himself a once over in the mirror as he clipped his belt, checking and holstering his weapon - and making sure his gun was safe, too. His cock refused to settle, his bulge protruding obscenely, but he liked it. It added to his overall look, to the idea that he would dominate any perp that tried to test him. He thought about flexing - hitting a double-biceps or maybe even a most muscular - but then thought better of it. His uniform was too tight for that - maybe once he’d sized up, he thought, heading for the door.


Ralph called Andrew, Jake’s lawyer, explaining about the attack, and asking about the bail hearing.

“No, nothing. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Smith of tampering with the process, but surely he wouldn’t risk his career like that?”

“I’ve only met him for about a minute, and I got the distinct impression that he’s a total arsehole. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“At this rate, I’ll have to file a habeas writ and force them to produce Jake to the court.”


“Oh, sorry, habeas corpus - literally ‘you shall have the body’ - it’s a writ compelling the authorities to produce the accused to the Court. Sort of like a subpoena compels production of documents, or a witness to appear to give evidence. But it’s pretty rarely used these days.”

“Do it. He needs to get out of here Andrew. They’ve already nearly killed him once. He’s about to get into it with the Aryans. He’s strong, and he’s tough, but even he can’t go up against a whole prison against him.”

“It’s risky though. Depending on the judge, they won’t like us trying to skirt around the system.”

“What other choice do you have if the system is being manipulated?”

“We can’t make that allegation in court - unless we have concrete proof. No judge is going to believe a senior prosecutor is that shady.”

“I don’t know, then. You’re the expert. I just know that the longer he’s in here, the more at risk he is.”

“I’ll file it first thing, we’ll just have to sell it based on the attack, and future threats, though that isn’t much of an argument - if every prisoner came in bleating about threats… Can you be in court to testify about the injuries, the attack?”

“Of course. Just tell me when and where.”

“I’ll be in touch.”


Time was running out, and Jason hadn’t found a way to raise any of the $250k. This was getting way out of hand, he thought. It was time to put an end to it.

He dialled, waiting for an answer.

“Those Hermanos you put me in touch with. They’re out of control,” he said, resulting in a snort from the other end of the line.

“What the fuck did you expect? They’re a criminal gang, known for their brutality and violence.”

“They want $250,000 from me in the next few days! I can’t afford that!” That was met with a long, low whistle.

“All I know is, you better pay up, otherwise you won’t like the consequences.”

“What?! I just told you. I CAN’T pay up. You need to fix this. This is all your fault! It was your idea in the first place!”

“I told you beforehand, once you set that train in motion, there are no brakes, no way of controlling what happens. You were too blinded by the hard-on for your brother to think about the potential consequences. You’re on your own, pal.” The call terminated.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

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Jason is in deep shit but lets hope they come after Scott and he is not alone, he is with Brad or Diego and can teach a thing or two like Jake thought the Hermanos in Jail but it's hard outside The Hermanos has access to guns and that's a whole different game. Jason would have to come clean to get out of this mess.

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Diego’s new uniform was ordered, but it wouldn’t be here for a few days. He’d have to make do in the meantime.

He had not showered this morning, his manly musk extra potent. It was not unpleasant; far from it. It was intoxicating, the testosterone flooding his system giving it a heady, spellbinding effect to all those around him, male and female alike.

He was in charge of the station today, Assad having the day off, so he had officers reporting to him all day. Some, he suspected, were reporting much more often than necessary, wanting - needing - to be around him. He enjoyed the attention, every single person remarking on how good he looked, how he had put on size, was he cutting, because it was working. It kept his cock at half-mast all day, well, that and the masses of free testosterone swamping his system.

The only thing that could make his day better is getting slammed by Jake. Jake had to change his tune - he WOULD. He messaged Felipe to arrange another conjugal. Diego would blow Jake’s mind, so he couldn’t refuse him.


Smith was waiting in the in-person visiting room. Sure, it was unethical for him to be here - but there’d be no record of his visit, and it’s not like this was the worst thing he had done in this case.

While he waited, his cock chubbed at the thought of Robertson walking through the door. Smith imagined him grovelling and begging, kneeling before him, desperate to be free. Desperate enough to offer anything, in a perfect position on his knees. He clearly did not know Jake, at all.

He heard the lock click. The door opened, and there he was. He was even hotter than Smith remembered, even with the garish orange jumpsuit. Had he put on size? He looked bigger, more intimidating than the last time Smith saw him. And the jumpsuit did nothing to hide his bulge. All the better, Smith thought, the more intimidating he looked, the easier it would be for him to sell his thuggery to the jury. His cock hardened as he imagined his victory.


Jake could not believe Smith was sitting at the table. What the fuck was he doing here? This should be interesting, he thought.

“Smith. You could be disbarred for this. You know I’m represented.”

“Mr Robertson, sit. I take it your stay here has been an unpleasant one?” He didn’t bother waiting for a response. “Well, you’d best get used to it. I’ve personally bumped your bail hearing three times now. You’re not going anywhere.”

Jake sat, stony faced. If Smith thought he’d get a rise out of him, he thought wrong.

“Nothing to say?”

He was greeted by a wall of silence.

“Well, perhaps the Hermanos might get you talking?” He noted a fleeting look of surprise on Robertson’s face, only there for an instant before he re-established his poker face again.

“You didn’t think your fat, useless lump of a brother could arrange such a thing on his own did you?” Smith’s cock surged as Robertson’s face registered a mix of shock, despair, hatred, an entire panoply of emotions crossed his face as he struggled to regain his composure.

Smith smirked, “Seems brother-dearest isn’t so dear after all. Imagine paying to have one’s own brother taken out. Of course, that’s a heinous crime in and of itself. Not only that, but he was aroused at the idea! Did you know that? Seems the whole Robertson clan are a bunch of degenerate criminals. Why just the other day your nephe–”

Smith nearly dove for the exit as Robertson suddenly stood, his presence menacing, threatening. “What the fuck did you do to him, Smith?!”

Once he’d recovered from his shock, Smith smiled broadly. Ah, the nephew. He knew everyone had a button, a sore spot. He just had to find it, know where to plunge the knife in. His cock throbbed painfully, it took every fibre of his being not to touch it, to explode right then and there.

“Sore spot for your nephew, I see. Well, that’s really a shame,” he said, condescendingly. Jake did not fail to notice that his tone was gleeful, he may have said it was a shame, but he was looking forward to whatever it was he was talking about.

“You see, your brother seems to have gotten himself in deeper than he knows how to handle. The Hermanos don’t take too kindly to being stiffed. One suspects they might find ways of encouraging him to pay up. Ways that may not be too comfortable for poor young Scott.”

Smith revelled in the look of hatred in Robertson’s eyes, a massive glob of pre made its way up his shaft as his arousal peaked.

“With any luck, the Hermanos will take care of your entire sorry bloodline.”

Smith was shocked, as Jake laughed. A deep, hearty belly laugh. Not exactly the reaction he’d expected. Jake had his hands hidden beneath the folds of the jumpsuit.

“Are you done?” Jake asked, bluntly. “You call yourself a prosecutor? You’re a fucking disgrace. But you’re finished Smith. And once I’ve finished taking you down, figuratively and literally, I’m going to fuck you into oblivion.” Jake’s bulge swelled as he spoke, and he rubbed himself with one hand, emphasising to Smith that he literally meant what he was saying. And he did. He was enjoying these ‘figuratively and literally’ scenarios - they seemed to work out in him getting his rocks off.

The way he said it, in a cold, monotone, soft voice, was disquieting to Smith. It was more threatening than if he had yelled and screamed. But Smith was a seasoned prosecutor, he knew how to hide any feelings of fear or alarm.

“Oh, yeah? By the time you get out of here Robertson, you’ll be a withered old man, that body of yours that you’re so proud of, atrophied and shrivelled.”

Jake’s stare bore into him. He sat silent for a long, long, uncomfortable time - his stare drilling into his soul the entire time. “If you weren’t so busy getting horny over threatening me, you might have noticed this,” he said, revealing the mobile phone.

Smith’s smirk dropped, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. That FUCK! How the FUCK did he get that in here?

It was Jake's turn to smirk, “What’s the matter, Smith? You were so chatty before.”

Desperate, Smith lunged for the phone. Jake was half-expecting it, and easily overpowered him. He brought him to the floor, straddling his chest, his knees pinning Smith’s arms, his bulge in his face. Smith didn’t bother struggling, he knew when he was outgunned. He could shout for a guard, but what would that achieve? He had to hear the fucker out. He cursed himself for his carelessness.

Jake tapped some buttons on the phone, and a moment later, it beeped a confirmation. He put the phone in Smith’s hand - not that he could do anything with Jake pinning his arms.

“Take it, Smith. I’ve uploaded our very interesting conversation to an encrypted cloud service. Do what you want with the phone.”

FUCK! He thought. FUUUUUUCK!

“Oh, and don’t think your Hermanos buddies can off me now and you’ll be home free. Quite the opposite. Anything happens to me and that recording will be released.”

Jake smiled at the look in Smith’s eyes, like a caged animal. Desperate, trapped, nowhere to escape. He bent over and whispered into Smith’s ear, “Now, the real fun can begin.”


“Jake, you’ve got an… interesting visitor,” Felipe said as he unlocked the cell.


“It’s the prosecutor, Smith.”

No way, thought Jake.

“Take this,” Felipe said quietly, handing Jake the mobile phone he’d used in the infirmary.


“Sssshhhh… just take it. If I know Smith, he’s here to gloat, to rub it in. Use it to protect yourself.”

Jake hugged him, beyond grateful, “Thank you.”

Felipe pushed him away, frantically looking around, “Remember what I said to you,” he hissed. “Do you want to be killed?”

“Relax, there’s no one around.”

“There’s ALWAYS someone around. Now, go.”

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58 minutes ago, Wrestlejock646 said:

Particular love for this chapter!

Very glad to hear it... but don't celebrate just yet. You didn't think I'd make it that easy, that obvious? There's gotta be a twist in there somewhere, right? Or will there? 😘

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