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“What’so funny about being sent back here for six months on remand?” he growled, “young prick,” he added and leaned lecherously towards Kenny, “mind you I wouldn’t mind six months locked up with you. I’d soon make you sing in Sing Sing. You look like you’d make a good flute player,” and he deep belly laughed at his black humour. The other’s cramped in the small holding cell laughed with him. So too did Kenny until faltering he looked round the cell at his companions. He was not sure of them and felt himself under scrutiny as they soul searched him back. A very uncomfortable shudder made it’s way down his back and for some reason he felt his balls retract inside his groin and a bead of sweat, dribbled into his arse crack. He shifted even more uncomfortably.
“What’yre in for?” asked the thin man sitting next to him, smiling thinly through a scratch of a mouth.

Kenny gulped, he’d been warned about this. “Nothing much,” he replied trying to keep low key and failing with his voice by about a half quavering octave. He could hear the social workers advice now.

“Kenny, “ I’m so sorry it’s turned out this way,” he smiled hopefully at the despondent youth that sat before him. He had entered the cell with his solicitor who has stood stiffly unable to make eye contact.

“You could go down,” his solicitor had said, “but I expect a suspended six month sentence with a need for Social Rehabilitation. Possibly Community Service, you may even get off,” and laughed grimly. Since Kenny had taken his advice and already pleaded ‘guilty’ there was little hope of that and now here he sat, shaken to the core at the year’s sentence he had been handed. Not for the first time he cursed his so-called mates who had strung him along about the job.
“All you have to do Kenny, my old mucker, is stand at the corner and whistle if anyone comes along. We’ll do the hard bit. The old guy’s ancient anyway and will fold immediately, he’s got a fortune tucked away in that lock up, we’ll be rich,” his special mate Sputs had said holding with one bear arm by the shoulders and crushing him gently.

Who’s have thought the old guy was going to fight back, not only that he pressed some sort of alarm and managed to wrestle the knife Sputs had threatened him with away and began to run for it. Kenny after hearing the alarm had run back, only to charge right into the old guy who had gone flying and stupidly he’d picked up the knife. Lucky for him the police running down the street had seen him running into the old man and had worked out that despite Sputs" denials and the old man’s vagueness after being knocked senseless when he had cannoned into Kenny, as to whose knife it was. The old guy knew one of them had had a knife but could not remember which one. So the police had backed him up but the judge had decided it was time to make an example and Kenny was it.
Mr Masters the social worker who had worked closely with him and his solicitor rubbed the boy’s trembling back reassuringly. “Don’t worry Kenny. It will be over very quickly, with good behaviour you will only have to do nine months anyway and I am sure that a good boy like you will have no problem. My best advice is not to let anyone know what you are in prison for. Other not so nice people may use it against you, hurting a poor defenceless old man.”
At this Kenny looked up concerned, “but I didn’t..” he began to say.

“Yes, yes,” I know,” reassured Mr Masters, “but inside prison people will use anything they can against you. A nice young lad like you could so easily find yourself in all sorts of trouble. In fact,” his voice sunk to a conspirational whisper, “I think it might be a good idea if you opted to be kept separate from the other prisoners and asked for special treatment under ’Rule 43’.”

Kenny could see his solicitor nodding in agreement, “but won’t that put me in with those child molesters and the like?” he asked concernedly.
“But Kenny, “ Me Masters patted him gently on the back, “they’re not going to go after a lad like you. You know where they are coming from. You might be lucky and get banged up with,” he sought for words to help the boy, “ a policeman, or an accountant whose down on his luck, maybe even some poor soul who was not able to pay a fine.”

“Oh,” said a slightly brightened Kenny. “I see what you mean.”
‘Poor sod’, thought Mr Masters, ’shame it went the way it did. Bloody typical of that bastard Jenkins to put the lad away and I had such plans for him. Still I’ll have a word with some friends and make sure he gets looked after and gets some proper training. I am sure I will be able to put him to good use when he gets out,’ again he stroked the depressed boys shoulders and caressed his hair, ‘well at least when I get him back he’ll be trained, pity really as I wanted a hand in that myself’ and he chuckled darkly inside.

So Kenny after pleading ‘Rule 43’ found himself locked away in the small holding cell with the other Rule 43’s; they would be processed once the normal prisoners had gone to their fate. Again he surveyed his companions and the sense of dread and foreboding deepened along his spine. In the distance he could hear noises, people moving, keys clanking, voices now loud now quiet.
It was then with some relief that the door opened and a cheery voice shouted, “ Right you wankers, out you come.”
The inhabitants of the cell slowly exited.

The prison officer appeared to know several of the gathering and they were divided into those who were going to be on remand who were duly split from the main group. Kenny was not unhappy to see the back of the hook nosed man or ‘the Bish’ as some had called him. They followed the officer to a brightly-lit room with a counter. On the counter were a number of cardboard boxes.

“Right lads,” smiled the cheery officer, “now strip please. All your personal effects are to go into one of those boxes and once you are cleared by my colleagues, we will take you to get your uniform and to see the doctor.”

Kenny watched aghast as the others did as they were told. Slowly he followed suit, surely they did not have to take off.., ‘Oh my god,’ he thought as the first two ‘old lags’ as the officer had called them did exactly that. Naked they were taken to the counter and a form was filled in with their details. Kenny could not believe that they could stand there naked as the day they were born. The ‘old lags’ however appeared unconcerned and soon disappeared into the next room.
“Come along you tossers’,” the cheery officer boomed, “we can get you inside in time for a bit of tea if you hurry it.”

Kenny suddenly realised he had not eaten since breakfast and as it was now seven o clock, he found he was starving and the thought of food appealed to him. Like the others he speeded up and watched his personality drop item by item into a cardboard box.

“Right Prisoner, C0C5UK3R 69,” the officer spoke sharply at him and added, “First time son?” Kenny nodded, “Well take it from me son you’re going to find it blood hard if you can’t remember your number, SO BLOODY WELL LEARN IT NOW AND GET A FUCKING MOVE ON, the man’s voice rose to a square-bashing sergeant majors parade bellow. Kenny looked at the officer who pointed to the card he had handed Kenny. In the top right hand corner was the number C0C5UK3R 69, he began to memorise it.

The other’s taking their cue grabbed their cards and followed the naked boy to the next room. It looked exactly the same as before except this time there were piles of clothes on the counter.

“Right lads,” Mr Cheerful sounded out, “walk up to the counter, hand over your cards, in return you will get, one pants, one vest, one trousers, two pairs of socks, 2 shirts, one jumper, one coat and when asked ‘SIZE’ you will state your shoe size and then your card will be handed back to you with those items ticked on. Check you have everything and then I want you to carry them to that bench over there and wait until your number is called for the doctor. Is that clear, say Yes Mr Osbourne in reply. IS THAT CLEAR?”

“Yes Mr Osbourne,” was the half-hearted reply.
Kenny sat dispirited. The man next to him said, “you can put on your shoes you know, but not your socks that’s in case the doc want to look at your feet.”
Kenny noticed that the others were doing this.

“What happens next?” he whispered to the man, A couple of other men looked at him, like Kenny they were First Timers.
“You see the doc, you go out the other door and in the corridor you dress and you wait for the rest of us. Then we get marched off to the holding wing, where we will get a bed for the night and some food and then in the morning after we’ve had a wash and some breakfast, we get processed and taken to A wing to be relocated.” The man explained briefly.

“Why A Wing?” asked one of the others.
“A stands for Arseholes, which is what we are if we are on Rule 43, we’re all nonce’s mate,” the man replied matter of factly, “ lover of girls, boys, both, rapists, muggers,” he added, “and for some reason accountants.”

They smiled at this, except for one older man who looked distinctly uncomfortable at this gibe. Kenny watched the others go in one by one until he was the only one left in the cold windy corridor. He had worked out how long it would take by mentally timing the others and was busy counting when a different prison officer came past.

Kenny was rudely awakened from his mental task by the abrupt, “You, your card,” which came in a distinct clipped authoritative tone. He looked up to see a tall, athletic man, dressed in prison officer uniform looking at him and holding out his hand. Kenny passed over his card with alacrity; this man looked and meant business.

“Number?” the officer, asked.
“C0C5UK3R 69,” Kenny replied proud that he had remembered the number so quickly.
“In future you will say ‘Prisoner C0C5UK3R 69’ and then follow that with ‘Sir’” the officer said and added, “Have you got that?”
“Yes Sir,” replied Kenny remembering to add the ‘Sir’ after a stupid moment.
“Good,” smiled the officer, but Kenny did notice that it was only the lips that actually smiled, the man’s body language didn’t say anything, but it did not smile. Kenny’s sense of unease returned.

“I am the Chief Senior Warder in charge of the A Wing special prisoners,” the man said, “ I am to be addressed as ‘Mr Carter, Sir,’ by prisoners like yourself. I normally come down about this time to pick up the papers relating to my new charges around this time, they must be running late today as I do not normally see you until tomorrow,” Mr Carter explained.

Kenny nodded and then became worried in case he should have said something probably ending in ‘Sir’ but Mr Carter appeared not to notice his omission.
“Stand up lad and lets have a look at you,” Mr Carter ordered.
Kenny stood up.
“Leave the clothes on the bench and turn around slowly please,” Mr Carter instructed.
Kenny stood up and did as he was told.

Mr Carter observed a very young looking youth, fair-haired, blue eyed with a small bit of ‘puppy fat’ around his stomach. He was an athletic looking boy who looked fairly physically fit who could do with a bit of toning up. He could see the fear and apprehension clouding the boys’ eyes and tensing his facial skin. The lad had a stub of a cock, uncut and a tight set of ginger gold furry balls, his pubic thatch was similarly ginger gold but sparse and his chest completely hairless. Mr Cater noted the large nipples, which hardened slightly in the breeze from the corridor. Mr Masters had been correct, the boy looked like he would respond to the correct sort of training and he would do all he could to help his old friend in his aims for this youth.

The door opened and they both looked at Mr Osbourne who all but saluted when he saw Mr Carter.
“Mr Carter Sir,” the cheery man said, “What can I do for you?”
“I just came down to pick up the usual folder Robert,” Mr Carter replied and turned to Kenny smiled and added, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and walked into the room. Kenny noticed his eyes once again did not smile and he involuntarily shivered.
Mr Osbourne, the cheery officer noticed this and said kindly, “Sorry, won’t be a moment, the Doctor will see you in a trice, just need to make the Chief comfortable.”

“Bring him in Robert,” a strange voice cut him short, “ I don’t know about him but I want my bloody tea, show the prisoner in and then we can both get out of here. I’m sure Mr Carter is comfortable enough.”
“You heard the Doc,” smiled Mr Osbourne grimly, “get in there.”

Kenny now found himself being acutely observed by Mr Carter who stared at him throughout his medical examination, and Mr Osbourne who also watched intently. Finally after answering a series of question the doctor put on a clean pair of rubber gloves and proceeded to examine Kenny’s genital area. As his rectum was none to gently probed he was surprised by the doctors’ question of, “Are you suicidal, or are you likely to become suicidal?”
“No,” replied Kenny, taken aback.
“OK,” said the doctor, “Robert you can take him away now please.”

Kenny was shepherded out through another door where he found his previous companions, now dressed waiting for him. As the door closed he could just hear the doctor say, “Well Jack, I think he’s in A1 condition and mentally sound.” The rest of the conversation was drowned by the closing of the door and the need for Kenny to get dressed quickly. He hurried after the group to a welcome meal of sausage and mash and a large cup of tea. He was then put into a cell and as he stared at the door it was locked, an eye was seen though the peephole and a disembodied voice said, “Strip, into bed; lights out in ten minutes.” The peephole slammed shut and Kenny was alone. He recalled what the man in the corridor had said and the man proved to be perfectly correct. In fact they had all lucked in and each had separate cells with working toilets. Kenny even managed to get some sleep despite the unfamiliar and inhospitable place he found himslef in.

He awoke groggily to the unfamiliar surroundings and the monotonous noise of doors being unlocked and a disembodied voice saying, “Slop out, Wash up, Breakfast, Lock up.” The overbearing closed metal door finally opened and the phrase was repeated for his benefit. Kenny glanced outside; he could see a line of men with buckets by the entrance to the communal washroom area. The stench suddenly hit him and he remembered what ‘slop out’ really meant, these were the prisoners who did not have toilet facilities and had to use buckets for overnight. As he watched the line of nameless grey people file past his cell door his depression grew blacker.

The prison officer, who had opened the door, re-appeared with a list in his hand. “Prisoner C0C5UK3R 69?” he queried and Kenny about to nod suddenly remembered the instruction from the previous night.
“Yes Sir,” he replied with alacrity.
“First timer eh,” the officer spoke answering his own question, “Right you wanker, grab your tray with your bowl and plate and mug and follow me.”
Kenny grabbed his stuff of the corner table and followed the officer, he found there were others waiting outside and he joined the line as the officer picked up his new charges and took them down stairs to the central area where there was a food serving trolley.

“Now you bunch of tossers’,” the officer spoke, “as you are all first timers, this is what happens. AT ALL TIMES DO AS YOU ARE TOLD, DON’T WASTE A WARDERS TIME WITH QUESTIONS WHICH WILL NOT BE ANSWERED. Now today we go easy on you so you can get your breakfast now and then back up to your cells where you can eat in peace and then get washed up. At the end of the trolley by the Tea Urn is a pile of safety razors that I will be handing out and marking down your issue. If you lose it, and that also means if someone else steals it as it’s your responsibility then you lose a weeks remission on your ERD, which to avoid stupid questions is your Earliest Release Date and you will learn to love that date which will be posted up outside your cell today. NOW GET TOO IT.”

Kenny joined the line and scooted back to his cell. He did everything he was told and then later that day as he was sitting looking into space the cell door opened and the morning warder looked in. “You,” he said curtly, “ASSESMENT, now MOVE IT.”
Kenny followed the warder down to the ground floor where he was taken to an office. Inside was Mr Carter, the Chief Warder from the previous night. Kenny was almost beginning to think of him as an old friend after the attitude of the other warder.

“I’m transferring you shortly to my A Wing with the other Rule 43’s. This is a holding wing for newly convicted prisoners which is why you have been locked up most of the time or been guarded. We can"t have problem prisoners mixing with the usual scum as it only causes damage usually to the Rule 43 man. When you leave me you will go back to your cell and you will take with you only what you were given last night, everything else will be washed. Is that clear?” he fixed Kenny with a baleful glance.

“Yes Sir, Mr Carter Sir,” replied Kenny remembering at the last minute how this man had told him to address him.
“Good lad,” Mr Carter almost smiled, “by the way what are you in for?” he asked agreeably.
Kenny opened his mouth to reply and then the warning bells went off again, “ I, I, I’d rather not say,” he said feebly wondering if he had done the right thing.
“Good, very good,” Mr Carter nodded, “make sure you keep it that way. We only know you are a prisoner, that you have been sentenced to whatever period you are in our charge. Any other knowledge is up to you, but remember such knowledge is valuable to others who may use it as a hold over you. So keep quiet, keep your head down and with luck you will be out of here in an easy nine months.”

Mr Carter noted the boy’s reluctance to tell even him his crime; Alan had done well in getting such a hard response from the boy so far, he would be glad to let Alan Masters know the boy had sort of passed a character test. It remained to be seen if the boy responded to his training as well. It would be a pity if he broke the wrong way. Mr Carter resolved to keep a personal eye on this one, if only for Alan’s sake. He sent Kenny under escort back to his cell to prepare for transfer.

Two long hours later Kenny walked with the other four people who had come in with him last night. In front of them was a warder, his keys jangling as he strode along and behind them was another, who twirled his keys in his hands as he kept them up with the pace set. They passed through many locked gates and similar set ups to where they had spent the night. Everywhere they went the ground floor was cleared and abuse rained down on them from the prisoners who had been moved above. Kenny was getting an idea of what he had let himself in for by opting for special treatment. At last a final door was opened and beyond that was a hurly burly of noise and men. Beside the door was painted a large Black A on a white background and beside it added in felt tip was the extra words ‘rsehole lovers and nonce’s.’ Kenny had arrived in his new home.

They were now led to another office and told to wait. Kenny looked around at his new companions to be, who were also staring at the new recruits. It looked very much like all the other wings; except this one ended here, the only way in was the door they had come in by. This was the end of the line. Mr Carter now appeared with a list in his hand and the line now followed him up the stairs. As they approached each landing Mr Carter turned off the central staircase and led them to different cells. One by one the others were disposed of and sent in to make themselves at home. Kenny wondered what was going to happen to him.
As they approached the topmost landing, the fourth, Mr Carter’s radio went off. He spoke into it and an annoyed look crossed his face. He told Kenny to stand close to the wall and leaned over the landing railings.

“Jones,” he called to the warder on the next landing down, “ Go to Cell C39 and pull out the new one and take him to my office. The silly bugger’s only walked the entire length of the prison with a razor blade on him. If you can’t find the blade on him strip-search him and the cell if need be.”
It was the first time Kenny heard the phrase ‘strip search’ he would learn to dread that term in time. Mr Carter motioned him along to the end of the landing and opened the last cell door.

“This is yours,” he told Kenny and added, “your screams won’t be heard up here.”
The cell was occupied by two beds, two tables and a toilet area. Kenny would learn that there were few cells on the block with toilets inside. On one of the beds lay a muscular thick set, brutish looking, bald headed man, wearing only a pair of white bulging briefs which were yellow stained and a number of tattoos. The man was smoking. He looked up with annoyance in his eyes and as Kenny entered a furious look blackened his unhandsome face.
“I don’t share,” he spat out, “get the fucker out of here.”

Kenny shivered as the man spoke; he wildly appealed to Mr Carter with his eyes not to leave him in this place with this deranged brute.
“Bollocks Barker,” said Mr Carter, “you know the score, there are only three singles and they are for the Trustees and it will be a long time in hell before you make the grade as a Trustee. So fuck it or get fucked, either way this lad stays.”

At this Kenny felt a little relieved, especially as the man Barker, grimaced and lay back on his bed smoking and looking up at the ceiling. Kenny did not however see the look the two men exchanged and if he had he would not have noticed it. Such an overlooked exchange would take years of prison life to interpret and anyone with that experience would have hit the warder; that would have guaranteed the prisoner the months solitary twenty-four hours confinement, which would be infinitely preferable to the deal which had just been struck. The door to the cell closed but Kenny noted it was not locked.
It would be some time before Kenny would learn that unlocked doors stayed open in prison so warders could see what went on. In Barker’s case the closed door was ignored and Kenny would soon find out why.

He moved to the other bed.
“What the fuck ddya think y’re doing?” Len ‘the Prick’ Barker looked at his new plaything, thinking, ‘better get the cocksucker in line straight away.
“I I I thought since you were on that bed that this is my” Kenny stuttered, aghast at the man’s attitude.
“You don’t have a bed, mate,” snarled Len, “that is my sleeping bed, this is my day bed. Y’can sit on a chair for the time being,” and he scratched himself between the legs, by pulling down the front of his briefs and exposing the thick tube of his cock. Not for nothing was he known as ‘the Prick.”
Kenny sat, he was appalled at the sight of the man and now he was even more sickened by the sight of the mans base habits. He felt very, very frightened and vulnerable but resolved not to antagonise the brute and wait until he got a chance to speak to Mr Carter. He was sure the Chief warder would be able to put him somewhere else once he explained what had happened and then he recalled what had been said as he’d entered the cell. “Your screams won’t be heard up here,” the phrase swirled round and round inside his brain, like a persistent wail of a banshee. Kenny sat trembling, sweating with fright as he waited for, for what? and a first silent tear, slid down his cheek.

Len got up and moved to the toilet, pulled down the stained briefs and holding the impressive tube of flesh peeled back the thick foreskin and pissed into the pan. The strong smell of the man’s urine wafted over Kenny, even the cigarette fumes could not cover the sour smell as Len finished his bodily function. With horror Kenny realised he was going to have to share the toilet with this man and he dreaded what it would be like when he had to, had to. The very thought made him feel sick and a second tear joined the other.

“Dy’a like it?” Len’s question brought Kenny back to his current hell.
The man was standing in front of him, his briefs still halfway down his thick, hairy muscular legs and he was playing with the thick tube of his cock, stroking it, caressing it and exposing the dimly gleaming pink bell end. His cock was almost face to nose with Kenny.
Kenny started back in terror.

“What the fuck is going on here,” he thought frantically.
“Nice ain’t it,” mused Len oblivious to the effect he was having on the boy. The tube of flesh thickened and began to grow, right in front of Kenny’s fearful eyes. Len looked down on the lad noting the fright in the boys’ face and thought to himself, “he’ll learn.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” growled Len and a young man entered.

“I’ve got the smokes,” he was saying, “five you said. Here can I,” and stopped short as he saw Kenny. “Oh you’ve got company,” he said slightly annoyed.
“Don’t mind him,” said Len, “lets see the snout. Good tailor made, that’s acceptable.”
Kenny did know that tobacco in prison was known as snout and as he saw the cigarettes passed over he worked out that tailor made meant they were commercially rolled and not the ones made up, the ‘rollups’ as they were know as.

“What about him?” asked the youth impatiently.
“You,” snarled Len in his politest way, “get outside and stop anyone coming in until I tell you.”
Kenny startled like a frightened rabbit and did as he was told.
As he left he could hear the youth say, “Oh god look at how big it is. I’ll never” and the door closed.

Kenny stood outside glad to be away from his cellmate. He did not know what was going on and to be truthful he did not want to. He stared around his new home. He could see people moving around in and out through open doors. There were several warders on duty and they walked around, but he noticed they did not come up to the fourth floor. He could see across the well into the cell on the opposite landing, the door was wide open and, he rubbed his hands across his eyes. He could see two men on one of the beds. One was on top of the other and he was moving, moving. Kenny could not believe it; the man on top was fucking the other man in the arse. Kenny felt time had stood still except for the movement of the men’s buttocks in the cell across the landing as they fucked. Between Kenny and the cell the noise of the wing echoed around the open space, down the landings to the ground level he could see people just walking around but up here, ‘where your screams can’t be heard’ there was a different world. A terrifyingly different alien world to any that Kenny had experienced in his short eighteen years of life.

Unable to look away Kenny watched as the man on top began to thrust harder and harder, grinding into the man underneath him until. Behind Kenny distracting him from the other side, the door to his cell opened and the young man came out. Swiftly Kenny turned back to watch the boy leave. He was licking his lips and Kenny thought his lips looked swollen, he also looked satisfied and had a Madonna like smile on his face. Kenny noticed the boy’s eyes glittered with some sort of emotion and he was aware of the lump between the youth’s legs that tented his tight fitting prison trousers.

“Like what you see?” the boy spoke to him, “want a closer look?” and the boys’ hand began to move the zipper downwards.
“Er oh God NO,” said Kenny almost shouting and backing away.
“Shame.” smiled the youth and added darkly almost jealously, “he’s all yours now, but he won’t be much use for some time – if you get my drift,” and pouting the boy swayed away down the stairs to the next landing. Reluctantly Kenny re-entered his cell.

“Leave the door open,” Len snarled at Kenny, “let’s get rid of that prick teaser’s perfume and Kenny pushed open the door. He sniffed, he agreed there was a perfume smell but he could smell something else, he was not sure what it was, sorta musky, suddenly Kenny recalled the cell opposite and looked out the door. The opposite door was still open, only this time one man lay on the bed and the other knelt beside him. Fascinated Kenny watched trying to work out what was going on and then as the man on the bed jerked upwards and the man kneeling down relaxed he realised that the kneeler had been wanking the other man, and as he watched they, they they kissed, Kenny felt revolted.

He turned to look at his cellmate. Len was lying on his back, again he was smoking, one of the tailor mades in fact Kenny noted and then the next sight he saw caused him yo suck in his breath sharply. Len was now naked, the thick tube of flesh between his legs gleamed slightly and a glob of sticky, pearly liquid detached itself from the head and slid slowly down Len’s right thigh. Shocked Kenny now knew what the other smell was, it was cum.

Len smiled, “Not a bad cocksucker that one, but these fags are better. I think I’ll have to put my price up for that one if he can get me these,” and he swirled the cigarette through its own smoke trail. Kenny looked at the satisfied man and ran to the toilet where he wretched. Len smiled contentedly, stroking once again his favoured cock and liking the line of Kenny’s’ arse outlined in the air as he bent over the crapper. He squinted and slid down the bed slightly so he could line up the end of his cock with the tip of Kenny’s arse, ‘Looks a good tight fit’, he thought pleasantly and began to work out his plan of action.
At last the noise subsided and Kenny knelt up and began to take deep breaths. His strength returned and he managed to stand up, enough to wash his face in the sink. Blinded by water, he found the towel and began to dry his face, feeling better he started to dry his hands and shrieked when he realised he was not holding a towel but the stained briefs Len had been wearing earlier. Len laughed at Kenny’s discomfort, “Stupid Fucker,” he thought.

He stood up, “Y’kin lie down now,” he told a white faced Kenny and moved to the other bed. Tired and exhausted Kenny moved towards the bed, he looked down to see the slight trail of Len’s dribbled semen where it had landed on the blanket and then looked back at the naked hulk who was watching him intently through half-closed glittering eyes. Kenny hesitated a moment, straightened up almost rebelliously then his nervous exhaustion got the better of him and he fainted onto the bed. Len left him there, "he’d strip him later", he thought, "the boy would learn soon enough". He turned his thoughts to the cocksucker who had serviced him earlier, he felt his balls, they were still full. He ambled to the doorway, stepped outside and rested the tip of his knob on the railing. There was a rush of feet on the stairs and he looked at the five men that made it onto the landing. He didn’t like freebies but occasionally it helped to keep the interest flowing. ‘Fucking nonce’s’ he thought, but most of them could blow good, he looked over the trembling group and decided on expertise rather than good looks.
“You,” he pointed at the older of the men, who stepped happily forward and followed him inside the cell. “ Hold it,” said ‘the Prick’ before the man stepped inside. “Strip,” he commanded. The man obliged and left his pile of clothes outside the door, they would be safe there. Len looked at the rest of the group, “Ok,” he said grudgingly, “If you want to watch, then strip but no cum in my cell. There was a flurry of activity and four more from the steps joined the throng on the landing.

“the Prick must be giving a freebie,” said one of the warders’s below who was standing outside one of the new boy’s cells. Inside his colleague who was fucking one of the new prisoners who had come in with Kenny remarked, “In that case Cocker, we don’t have to rush it, you can move it a bit slower, more nicer.”
“Yes Sir,” grunted Cocker,” relaxing the speed of his rectal muscles, it was nice to have Mr Bane’s cock back up his arse and to make it more pleasant began to think about what had got him back inside this time. Again he heard the squeal of delight as he’d sucked the young boys cock for the fourth time that week in the bike shed, It was still a shame that bastard of a caretaker had caught them. Above him Mr Bane began to grunt with his impending climax and his colleague began to strip down ready to take his place. They knew they should have really taken him up to the fourth floor but with Len ‘the Prick’ giving it for free most of the size queens would be too busy to notice the breach of practise.

Back on the fourth floor Len’s choice was proving his worth and a silken sheen of sweat had started to cover Len’s tattoos, he began to breath deep, the man had managed to get all the massive head of Len’s cock in his mouth and was struggling to try and get even more in and it was having the desired effect. Len glanced over the naked audience and the latecomers trying to get a glimpse through the doorway. His cellmate was completely hidden from his sight but he was the last thing on his mind.

“Len, Lenny baby please,” one of the queens who had joined the throng at the door pleaded, “bring it out on the landing, give us all a bit of happiness.”
Len squinted and giving his sucker no warning stood up. The man nearly fell over as he tried and failed to keep that massive glistening purple headed monster encased in his over-stretched mouth.

“Awright,” grunted Len and shambled to the door. Standing outside he gave them a minute to arrange themselves and then he let the cocksucker begin his work again. A third of the wing had gathered naked on the fourth floor landing and a lot of cocks were furiously being stroked as Len ‘the Prick’ put on his show. “Suck faster,” he told the man, he could not recall his name, Len was no good at names, but he could put faces to suckers and he knew this man was an expert. As he speeded up the various hands also increased their respective paces and as Len delivered his long awaited load, that spurted out the side of the man’s mouth, a rain of glittering, pearly white strands began to fall into the well of the wing, dripping down to the ground floor below.
“What the fuck,” said Chief Senior Warden Mr Carter as he just missed being splattered by the sudden rainstorm of cum that had appeared from above. “The Prick’ he thought and called out, “Bane, where the fuck are you?”

Warder Bane appeared from the second floor cell where he had just removed his cock from Cockers eager mouth whilst his colleague had worked through his fuck. “Coming Sir,” he called as he hid his zipping up action from the boss who he knew would not take kindly to the breach of practise. Behind him Warder Reynolds was just cumming and he reasoned he could give Andy time to finish off proper and get dressed. As he packed his new hard-on away he knew he would have to take Cocker upstairs to finish him off; after all he was supposed to welcome back the old lags and what better way to welcome back Cocker than with an arsefull and a mouthful of Bane spunk.

“Just get ‘the Prick’ back inside his cell and the others back to theirs, they’ll be fucking on the landings next’ and for fuck’s sake,” he added looking at the steadily joining pools of cum on the floor, “get that mess cleaned up. If the Guvno’r saw this, its us who’d be inside rather than this lot.” As an afterthought he added looking at the sea of semen, “and send that boy from C30 to me. I think I want some cream for my coffee.”

Warder Bane surveyed the mess and began to bark orders. The Trustee’s emerged from their ground floor cells and naked began to clean up the mess. He told them to stop the mad prisoner from licking up the cum straight from the floor and put him to licking clean the railings which were likely to be more clean to start with. The boy from C30 was summoned and sent on his needy errand. Warder Reynolds appeared from Cockers cell and as he finished dressing he was despatched to get the group back inside their cells and just managed to stop a three way from developing on the landing. Warder Bane deciding that order had now been restored returned to Cockers cell to finish welcoming him back to A wing.

Upstairs on the fourth floor Len ’the Prick’ lay on his bed; his balls actively preparing someone’s next meal and waited for Kenny to revive. He hoped the boy would be very, very hungry. In cell B12 the man who had sucked Len, was massaging his throat carefully whilst his cellmate sat on his cock as a thank you for the pleasure his talent had brought to an otherwise fuck of a day. In Mr Carter’s office the coffee cream boy was obliged to reload from Mr Carter’s more than adequate supply of man cream as life in A wing returned to normal.
In the world outside a twelve year old boy began to first of many letters which delivered by an enlightened solicitor would keep the recipient in fags for months. ‘Dear Mr Cocker’ it began, ‘I miss you so much. My cok thinks of you often and my bruvver dos to. We are doing the thngs you shewd us but its not like when you done it. Our nobs hav’t grown any yet but we let the sun at them like you said. My mum tells us we must were our nikers but we take em off as sune as she has gone. I promiss I will rite often and let you now how we ar doing. My bruvver has spunct on this paper and it wil be my turn nxt time. It took time to dry.
I luv you Davey’
And underneath was written ‘an so do I Billy’

Inside the prison on the fourth floor Kenny stirred.

To be continued