The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Web of Trust — Chapter 13


  • Peter — Timothy Olyphant
  • Alejandro — Joaquin Ochoa
  • CO Doug Miller — Zach Roerig
  • Dr. Marky Emmerson — Lincoln Lewis

Foreword: This chapter is heavily laced with prison slang. While I’ve tried to provide contextual clues to what the slang means, it may still be a bit disorienting. I believe most of the terms in the story can be found either on this page or on this one. If you don’t see it on either of those, either Google it or ask in the comments. I’m happy to provide clarification.

“See you around, bro!”, I said to my now-former cellmate as he was escorted out to go to his new cell. I hadn’t particularly been friends with him, but as cellmates went, he’d been better than some others I’d had. Despite being a few years older than me, he was still among the younger guys in the prison. Back when he’d been fresh out of the fish tank, they’d assigned him to my cell so I could show him the ropes. It was an unofficial policy, at least here in Low, not to mix fish with OG, who were more likely to be a bad influence.

Of course, it was also unofficial policy to house the known homos with other homos. Somebody had made an exception this time, though, and I knew damned well who it was. CO Miller, one of the correctional officers for my unit, had taken an instant disliking to me after I’d aged out of Garza, the youth facility I’d been in. By the second day, he’d gone total robocop, writing up almost every fucking thing I did wrong. He kept it just at the edge of what other COs might see as abuse, but if he thought he could get away with irritating me, he did. It’d be totally like him to get some grey-haired old homo put in with me, hoping to get under my skin and make me so pissed that I’d do even more stuff he could write up. Fucking prick!

I had no idea when to expect the new guy, but I decided to skip going to the TV room or doing anything else in favor of enjoying the rare luxury of having the cell all to myself. I would’ve loved to do something more fun with my temporary solitude, but it was almost time for count, and if a CO were to catch me beating off, I’d probably get another disciplinary ticket. If it were one of the female COs, I might lose privileges, like being allowed to buy stuff from the commissary or access to the rec yard. Some female COs had been known to take it to court and get time added to your sentence, but I hadn’t heard of that happening to anyone here. Then there was fucking Miller. If he caught me doing it, he’d not only take away privileges, he’d happily pepper-spray me and throw me in the SHU—and I could totally see him trying to get my sentence extended if he was having a bad day.

After count was done, I reconsidered the idea of rubbing one out and decided to go for it. Peeking out my cell door quickly, I didn’t see any staff nearby, so I figured it was probably safe. Usually someone would call out a warning if a CO was approaching, so trusting the other guys in the unit to let me know if there was anything to worry about, I got to work.

Everything went smoothly, and after a few minutes of imagining myself putting one of the bitchier female COs, kitty-kitties as they were usually called, in her place, I spewed all over my stomach and chest. I was almost done cleaning up when I heard the call that a CO was near, so I quickly finished what I was doing and tossed the wad of cum-covered toilet paper down the toilet. As soon as my pants were back up, I grabbed one of my books and hopped up onto my bunk, lying on my stomach and pretending to read in order to hide the partial stiffy I was still sporting. I was in the last cell in my row, so unless it was my new cellie arriving already, chances were that whatever the CO was doing, they wouldn’t make it down this far. But, if there was one thing prison taught you very quickly, it was not to take chances with anything you didn’t have to.

It was just as well that I had taken precautions because only a minute later, a CO showed up with the homo in tow. “Hi there! I’m Peter”, the guy tried to introduce himself after the CO left. “I’ve seen you around, but I’m not sure I caught your name.”

Was this guy for real? “Fuck off, fag!”, I replied. “Let’s get a few things straight. I am not your friend and I don’t want to be. I can take a pretty good guess how you got assigned to this cell, and it sure as hell wasn’t my idea. I had a perfectly good cellie before you got here and now I’m stuck with some grey-haired old homo.” In truth, only parts of his beard and temples were greying, but that still put him at probably more than twice my age. The thirst in his eyes told me that the age difference didn’t bother him in the least. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the perv got off on it.

“Speaking of homos”, I said, continuing my train of thought out loud, “a lot of you guys seem to like me, and it’s obvious you’re one of them. Just so you know, I know Brazilian Jiu-jitsu, Krav Maga, and a fair bit of 52 Blocks now, so if you so much as think about trying to touch me, I will put you six inches into the wall on the other side of the room.” I saw his eyebrows furrow momentarily in puzzlement when I’d said “52 Blocks”. I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t have heard of it, since it was designed for, and mostly practiced in, the limited confines of prisons, and he was still fairly new to the place. His look quickly took on a satisfactory note of caution, though, as the rest of what I’d said started to sink in. “The last guy who tried to hit on me accidentally tripped, bumped his head on the floor, and got in the way of my foot—several times—just for trying to put a hand on my shoulder”, I informed my new cellie. “I did a minute in the SHU for that, but it was worth it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal”, the guy replied seriously.

“Good! Don’t forget it. To answer your question, my name is Alejandro. Do your best not to use it…or to talk to me at all, preferably.” As hostile as I’d been to him, I had to bow to the simple practicality of him knowing my name. “Hey, you” was not a tremendously helpful name, and I didn’t trust someone who looked at me the way he did not to come up with something more creative, like “sweetie” or “darling”. If he tried something like that, I’d have to respond to it physically, but there was always the chance of that getting back to a CO, even if I didn’t hit him hard enough to leave a mark. Pretty much everything in here came back to making sure COs didn’t find out about anything you didn’t want them to—especially not CO Miller, in my case. Somehow, it was always about fucking Miller!

“Cell rules”, I continued, now that I had his undivided attention. “I’m on the top bunk, you’re on the bottom.” I knew what he’d be thinking from the words “top” and “bottom”, but in a way, it wasn’t far from how I meant it. Best he knew right from the start who was in charge around here. “There’s a sheet near the toilet. I’m sure by now you know what it’s for. Make sure you use it. Every. God-damned. Time. I don’t want to see no old-fag dick takin’ a whiz.” It went without saying that I intended to use the sheet every time myself, cuz I sure as hell didn’t want the old fag looking at my dick, either! “Last, no beating your meat in here, even if I’m not around. Leave that shit for the showers. If I come back and smell your fag juices wafting throughout the cell, I’m gonna puke all over your bunk.” I fully intended to ignore the rule when I wanted to beat my meat, although certainly not when he was around.

I didn’t bother to ask if he was clear on everything this time. The hostile almost-challenge in his eyes told me he’d heard and understood every word I’d said. The fact that he remained silent, though, and even dropped his gaze first, confirmed that he understood his position in our little hierarchy perfectly. It probably galled him to be talked down to by a nineteen-year-old, but that was his problem.

He remained quiet after that, and I went back to my reading for a few more minutes. I didn’t feel like dealing with the oppressive silence, though, so as soon as the next controlled movement came around, I went to the recreation yard and worked off some steam. It wasn’t completely effective, but I felt at least a bit better afterwards. Returning to my cell during the next move, I grabbed my shower stuff. I was convinced I could feel Peter’s eyes on me as I dug in my locker, but when I turned towards him, he seemed intent on writing notes in the margins of what looked to be some kind of legal book. I thought I felt him staring at me again as I left the cell, but despite whipping my head around just at the last second, his eyes were apparently still on the book in front of him. If I wasn’t just being paranoid, he was going to make me feel like I was soon enough! All it’d take was for me to catch him looking at me the wrong way—just once—and I’d show him who was boss.

The utter silence continued for the rest of the afternoon. It was honestly a relief when CO Miller came to get him—I didn’t know what for and I didn’t care. He got back about an hour or so later, looking very pleased with himself for whatever reason. The oppressive silence between us continued right up until lights out. After that, it seemed I could hardly get him to shut up! He was obviously talking in his sleep as he dreamed, because most of it was incoherent. I yelled at him the first couple of times, which shut him up temporarily, but each time he drifted off to sleep, he started talking again. The last time, I sat up and kicked the frame of the bed as close to his head as I could reach without getting out of my bunk. He shut up for quite a while after that, finally allowing me to get some sleep. That was the last of his dreaming for the night, at least that I was awake to hear. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he stayed awake half the night, just to avoid any further outbursts from me.

The silence continued throughout the entire next day, to the point that I became comfortable with it once again. Several times throughout the day, I was sure I felt his eyes on me, yet each time, he managed to appear to be doing something else by the time I looked. Once, I almost thought I’d caught him, but I wasn’t sure. Still, it was the closest I’d come so far, so I gave him a piece of my mind. “Look, queer-boy, I know for a fact you’re eyeing me when I’m not looking! You’d better start keeping your eyes in your head from now on, or I won’t even wait for you to touch me. Got it?”, I demanded.

He raised his hands placatingly and went back to reading, though his face was slightly flushed. Yeah, I’d definitely caught him looking at me, or if he hadn’t been this time, I’d at least been right in accusing him of doing it at other times. Next movement cycle, he got up and left our housing unit. I couldn’t have cared less where he was going, it was just a relief to not have him here.

When he got back, it was obvious where he’d been. He had several books with him now, most of them either to do with law or psychology, though he did have one science-fiction book as well. When it came to legal stuff, inmates mostly used the computers in the law library, but some guys just preferred paper—apparently, Peter was one of them. Noticeably, he had that same self-satisfied look on his face as I’d seen the other day. I wasn’t sure what that was about. Was he that into reading?

I enjoyed books well enough myself, though I was no bookworm by any means. I didn’t get into non-fiction much, so I wasn’t even aware we had any psychology books, but obviously we must have. I did go for sci-fi and sometimes fantasy, though, so after Peter had settled down on his bunk with one of the other books, I hopped down and casually picked up the sci-fi book to read the back cover. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull, and for once, I was quite certain it wasn’t because of his thirst. You absolutely never touched another inmate’s stuff without permission, not even a library book, except as a show of dominance.

This time, when I turned to look at him, there was no pretending that he was reading. Peter just stared back at me. It wasn’t exactly a hostile stare, but neither was it friendly. Even if he was fairly new, he’d been around long enough by now to know the meaning of what I’d done. I stared back challengingly and was quite satisfied when he once again broke eye contact first. While the book looked interesting, I decided not to push him further by taking it back to my bunk. Better to acclimate him slowly than to have him complain to the unit manager or something. Probably nothing would come of it even if he did, but word might get back to Miller, and he would do something, just because he could.

Like the day before, we each remained quiet until lights out. I didn’t consider the ongoing awkward silence to be ideal, but it was better than letting him think he had any chance at me, not to mention that I didn’t dare appear to be too close to him or else my status with the other inmates would probably crumble. It was possible to be friendly to the homos, or even be one, and still have some kind of status among the other inmates, but it sure as hell wasn’t easy!

After lights out, I was treated to another round of Peter’s chatter. I silenced him a couple of times, but thankfully, he stopped much sooner tonight than he had the night before. I woke up briefly during the middle of the night when he started talking again, shifting in my bunk in case I needed to yell at him or kick the bedframe, but he stopped after a few sentences without starting again, and I drifted back to sleep.

Miller showed up the afternoon of the next day, seemingly only to pick a fight. A fist fight would’ve ended badly for him if I’d dared to retaliate, but ultimately even worse for me. It seemed like that’s what he was hoping for, though. I’d struck a CO once while I’d been in juvie, and I’d paid for it with time added to my sentence, so I was determined not to let it happen again, no matter how much Miller tried to provoke me. When I didn’t react to his taunts, Miller started tossing the cell, claiming that there was a report of contraband in here. In reality, I knew it was just an excuse to mess up my cell and piss me off. To my surprise, though, Peter actually calmed him down, and surprisingly quickly at that.

“Hey Doug, can we talk for a minute”, Peter asked. The moment Miller turned to look at Peter, the confrontational look dropped from his face and he smiled as though Peter were his best friend in the world. “There’s no reason to pick on Alejandro, at least not today. All this stuff is mine”, he told Miller, his gesture including his own stuff as well the book I’d left out and both of our lockers. “There’s nothing of any interest to you here. Why don’t you just relax and go back to your regular guard duties”, Peter suggested quietly. “It’s been good talking with you.”

It took a few seconds, during which the smile half-dropped from the CO’s face, but after that brief pause, Miller stood up and left our cell with only a quick “Yeah, you too!” in response.

My jaw dropped at just how fucked up that whole thing had been. You never called a CO a guard, for one thing. The correctional officers were to be addressed as such, or more often just CO. The first time or two you called one of them a guard or jailer or anything like that, you’d get a lecture about how they did a lot more than just that. If you did it after your first couple of days, the CO would take it personally, and I knew full well just how bad things could get if you got on a CO’s bad side. Same thing went for calling a CO by their first name. Hell, even using their last name without the “CO” in front of it usually wouldn’t go over well. But then to tell a CO what to do—especially someone like Miller—that just floored me completely! All the more so when Miller had smiled and agreed with what Peter had told him to do, not to mention him accepting the outright tone of dismissal. That should have earned a swift and extreme retaliation from an asshole like him.

“Uh…thanks, man, but seriously, what the fuck?”, I asked Peter incredulously. He just smiled back at me mysteriously, which came off more as creepy than anything. Then, he hopped into bed with his science-fiction book and began to read, looking quite pleased with himself. Yet again, it was another silent evening, but this time, there was a whole new reason for it. Feeling warier than I had since I’d first been put into juvie, I left the cell and went to find something—anything—else to do.

Rumors had surrounded Peter since he’d first been in the fish tank, but I’d dismissed a lot of them as the kind of superstitious nonsense that tended to spread around prisons. Most guys in prison tended to exaggerate their own or a respected inmate’s abilities—when they didn’t outright invent stuff—but after what I’d seen today, I wasn’t so sure all of them were stories in Peter’s case. The library would be closing by the next movement, and I couldn’t leave the unit without an escort until then anyway, so I decided to go to the unit’s TV room.

“¡Hey hermano! ¿Cómo estas?”, one of the other Hispanic guys from our unit, Ricardo, greeted me as I sat down.

“Extraño”, I replied simply.

“What’s wrong, bro?”, Ricardo replied in English, knowing that my Spanish was poor despite my heritage. My parents had been fairly strict about speaking English as much as possible after we’d moved to the US, supposedly to help me fit in, so I had a strange mix of a child’s Spanish along with whatever else I’d picked up over the years from friends, the streets, and prison.

“What do you know about my new cellie?”, I asked.

La loca? Just what I’ve heard. Probably the same stuff you have. Why?”, he queried.

“Just a really weird encounter with CO Miller. Almost like they were best friends instead of CO and inmate”, I explained. “It really was loco!

“Well, some of the rumors say he drugged an FBI agent and raped him. Others say he used some kind of mind control or some shit like that and raped the agent and his kid—college kid, that is. Whatever else he is, at least he’s no chomo. I heard from my cellie, who got it from his cousin on the outside, that the agent’s speaking out against the story, though, saying it’s all a bunch of bullshit. I dunno, ese.

“Apparently, only the tabloids are even covering the story cuz it’s just so weird and nobody knows what’s going on. Wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI’s hushing it up too. They wouldn’t wanna say one of their own was…subvertido”, he said haltingly, obviously grasping for the English word. I didn’t interrupt with the right word because he was already continuing, seeing my nod of understanding. “…by some greying old maricón. That wouldn’t look good on them if any old psychiatrist or psychologist, or whatever the hell he is, could undermine their whole system.

“Long story short, though, your guess is as good as mine, bro. Maybe he got hold of the same drugs or he’s doing the same shit to Miller? Or maybe Miller’s being nice to the guy, just to weird you out. You know how much he hates you!”, Ricardo offered.

“Thanks”, I nodded to him soberly. He hadn’t really told me much I hadn’t already heard myself, though his information seemed to be at least a bit more concrete than mine was, and his reasoning about why it wasn’t in the news made sense. I hadn’t considered that Miller might just be being nice to the guy to get under my skin. That didn’t seem likely, but I wouldn’t put it past him, either. Inconsistency was a common tactic of his, so he could well have set the whole thing up just to throw me off my game.

I was still busy thinking about it all when we got the warning for lights out a couple of hours later. Heading back to my cell and climbing up to my bunk, still lost in thought, I barely even noticed the old guy’s voice as he fell asleep and started his usual dreaming. He stopped of his own accord after about ten minutes of jumping randomly from one topic to another as his dreams changed, and both of us fell asleep after that.

Things went on like that for another week or so, and I got more and more used to ignoring Peter talking in his sleep. At this point, I easily fell asleep when I needed to, no matter how much he rambled. Tonight was no different apart from the fact that he got loud enough at one point that I half woke up. I was on the verge of waking up fully when he quieted down again. I could just hear his voice at the edges of my consciousness, but I was already falling back to sleep, so I just ignored it. His voice actually became part of my dreams after a while, and in them, I had at least a degree of respect for him. The two of us were hardly friends, but I felt like I could at least listen to him when he spoke—without interrupting or complaining—and show some respect for his opinion. He spoke to me for a long time in my dream, and we talked about a bunch of things, but like all dreams, it had faded by the time I got up for morning kitchen duty.

As usual, one of the overnight COs entered the cell at 3:30 in the morning, calling my name and prodding my bunk until I was awake and moving. I was one of the few who didn’t mind being a brownie, despite the hours. Most inmates tried to move out of kitchen duty as soon as possible, but I was comfortable enough there. The most plum jobs at a prison were make-work jobs and stupidly easy, while the next tier required you to do actual work, but took little time or skill. Working in the kitchen took time, effort and at least some minimal skill, which was why many inmates didn’t like it, but it was still better than some things like cleaning the showers, which all too often got clogged with guys’ spooge. I couldn’t always get kitchen duty—they liked to move inmates around from one job to another—but the unit staff would take your preferences into account if they felt you’d earned it, so despite whatever Miller might’ve said about me, the last couple of months, I’d been rotated back to the kitchens. I’d likely get moved back out soon, though.

I had only a few minutes to get dressed and make my bed before I and the other brownies were escorted to the kitchen. The extremely early mornings were the one thing I hated about being a brownie, and this one seemed worse than usual. I felt like I’d hardly been asleep for more than a few hours. I looked jealously at Peter, knowing the lucky bastard got to sleep for another couple of hours yet. As a remand, he actually wasn’t required to do any work around the prison at all. Unfortunately, that just gave us more time to try and avoid each other in the afternoons when few other inmates were around.

I stumbled as we made our way to the kitchen, fighting off the urge to lie down right there on the floor. I actually did nod off while waiting for the CO to finish frisking all of us before we entered the kitchens, though I managed to stay on my feet despite being half-asleep. Getting frisked was really unusual in Low, but it happened sometimes if they had suspicion that someone was up to something, or sometimes just to throw us off-balance. I hated being this tired. It made me much less alert, and even in Low, that could be seen as weakness if the wrong person noticed. It was going to be a very long day.

Despite a few more cases of almost nodding off throughout the morning, I made it through the day without incident. As a brownie, I was allowed to return to my cell after lunch if I wanted, while most of the rest of the inmates were still working at that time. As usual, Peter was there.

“Hey, Alejandro!”, Peter greeted me. I nodded at him politely, though I didn’t actually say anything in return. I’d seen cellies give each other the cold shoulder the whole time they were together, and it didn’t usually work out well. It made sense to at least be respectful of him, despite our differences. Right now, though, Peter was the least of my worries, just as long as he stayed quiet. I had a couple of hours before next count, and I intended to put them to good use sleeping.

“I didn’t sleep as much as I could have myself”, he chattered as he saw where I was headed. “Before you settle in, though, Alejandro, can we talk for a minute?” I felt a pleasant wave of…something…sweep over me—almost like sleep, but not as relaxing. I was really focused on Peter’s voice all of a sudden. “It’s really quite warm in here. You’re so hot! Why don’t you take your shirt off before you settle down”, Peter suggested.

He was right. I hadn’t really noticed it until I’d gotten into my bunk, but even the thought of pulling the sheets up gave me heat prickles all over. It felt like it was a hundred degrees in here! Dazedly pulling off my shirt, I tossed it towards my locker and lay down once more. I wasn’t all that surprised when Peter got up to retrieve it, holding it close to his face as if he were about to sniff it. “Get some sleep, Alejandro”, he smirked. “It’s been good talking to you.”

A wave of fatigue washed over me and I decided that however I felt about what Peter was doing, it could wait until after I’d gotten some sleep. I was distantly aware of the homo sniffing my shirt as I drifted off, and I thought at one point that I felt his breath on my body, maybe, but I was too tired to care. Whatever Peter was doing, at least he wasn’t talking!

I woke up only a little before the four o’clock count. Hearing me move around, Peter got out of his bunk and handed me my t-shirt, clearly eyeing me as he did. “Listen here, you little faggot!”, I growled, but before I could get any further, Peter spoke into the pause as I tried to brush the cobwebs out of my eyes to give the fucker a piece of my mind.

“You see nothing”, he told me.

“I see nothing”, I all but shouted back at him. It reminded me of a dream I’d had while I was sleeping. I remembered saying that in the dream, but I couldn’t remember anything else that had been happening, just that one line.

Peter just stood there looking at me. I’d been upset with him, but I couldn’t remember why anymore. He wasn’t doing anything wrong that I could see. Whatever had been bothering me, it couldn’t have been important. He kept looking in my general direction as I put my shirt on, though not specifically at my body, so I just continued what I was doing without complaint. I wasn’t quite as ripped now as I’d been when I first went to juvie, but I was still pretty toned. I was surprised that Peter wasn’t trying to sneak a peek.

After the count was done, I slipped out to the shower. Now that it was past afternoon count, we were allowed to wear more casual clothing, so when I got back, I grabbed some stuff out of my locker. I should’ve grabbed it and changed in the shower room to avoid Peter’s gaze, but I was still getting used to having a gay cellie, and I’d forgotten this time. I knew damned well Peter would be staring at me as I got changed, no matter which direction I faced, or at least he’d try to if I wasn’t careful. I was about to hide behind the sheet we used for the toilet when Peter spoke up.

“I see nothing”, I agreed, feeling Peter’s eyes politely drift away as I stripped out of my prison uniform. Knowing he wasn’t looking, I didn’t even bother with the sheet, though I did face away from him. When I turned back, I noticed that he was looking in my general direction, and he had his hand around his midsection, but even though my eyes were drawn to these things for some reason, I knew he wasn’t staring specifically at me, just as I knew his hand was sitting comfortably in his lap and nothing more.

I had intended to head to the TV room after dinner, but I was still feeling surprisingly tired despite my afternoon nap, so I returned to my cell. I wasn’t entirely surprised when Peter showed up only a few minutes later. There were limitations on when and where we could move, and Peter often liked to stay either in our cell or in the library after dinner. Even he noticed how tired I was, and commented on it as I climbed back up into my bunk. “Hey, Alejandro, you look tired. Why don’t you take a nap?”, he suggested as I crawled into my bunk. My head plopped down immediately at his words.

Peter continued rambling for some time after I fell asleep, but by this point, I’d learned to tune it out. I’d long ago gotten used to filtering out the background noise of the prison, which could get quite loud at times, and now that I was used to Peter’s tendency to talk in his sleep, and apparently also ramble while he was awake, it was easy just to fall into a nice, deep sleep.

Ricardo came in to see what I was up to at one point, and Peter stopped talking with me. Even though I was aware that Ricardo was there, my eyes felt far too heavy to open, so I just lay there while Peter spoke with him.

“Did he fall asleep?”, I heard Peter ask Ricardo quietly. “He was reading twenty minutes ago or so”, Peter lied. I was grateful for the lie, since it would hopefully get rid of Ricardo that much sooner. “I just assumed he still was. He said he was really tired from having worked the kitchens today, so I guess I’m not surprised.”

Ricardo tried to wake me up, but I barely even moved. He seemed a bit concerned and tried again. After his third try, Peter joined in, kicking my bunk from underneath and telling me to wake up. I opened my eyes immediately and looked around dazedly, pretending I wasn’t already aware that Ricardo was there.

When I found his face, Ricardo was looking down at Peter in consternation. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”, Peter replied to the unasked question.

“Why’d you wake me up?”, I demanded grumpily, diverting Ricardo’s attention from my new cellie. If thinking straight had been difficult while I was still half-asleep, now it was nearly impossible.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. After our talk last night, I was wondering if…things were okay with you”, he said evasively. Peter had to know that Ricardo was speaking about him—he wasn’t a moron—but he said nothing.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, I assured Ricardo. “I just didn’t sleep well. Now, get the fuck outta here and let me get back to sleep. Still on brownie duty, so I’m up at 3:30 again tomorrow. Let me sleep or I’ma mess with your food tomorrow”, I warned him irritably. Trying to pretend you felt more awake than you actually did was hard.

I wouldn’t have said we were close friends or anything, but Ricardo knew me as well as anyone in the prison did, and it was obvious he’d been looking for odd behavior. Seeming reassured by my threat, even if I’d delivered it more like a turtle with how slow I was speaking, he backed off. After all, if there’d been a problem, I could’ve warned him in any number of ways without alerting Peter, but Peter was the least of my concerns right now. All I wanted to do was to go deeply back to sleep again. Satisfied that there was nothing going on, Ricardo left after I turned down his invitation to join him in the TV room.

I wasn’t known for being social, but I wasn’t about to spend all my time in our cell, either, so after I’d slept a little longer, listening to Peter ramble the whole time, I got up and headed for the TV room after all. On the way, I glanced quickly at the call-out sheet to make sure I was actually still on brownie duty like I’d told Ricardo, and that nothing unexpected had been added to my schedule. Jobs usually only changed weekly or even less, but you quickly learned to check the sheet every single day in prison, because if you fucked up and missed an appointment or work shift, you’d get in shit. To my surprise, a couple of people had had their jobs reassigned, including me. For whatever reason, I’d been shifted to one of the Cadillac jobs, though I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve it. Usually, those only went to the senior inmates and sometimes the suck-ups, if they weren’t too obvious about it. The only thing I had to do tomorrow was mop the hallway near my unit.

Feeling pleased at the change in my fortunes, I continued on into the TV room. After I told him the good news, Ricardo and I talked for a bit, and I made a point of reassuring him that I just hadn’t slept well last night and was feeling fine now.

With my nap earlier, I wasn’t all that tired by the time lights-out rolled around. I stripped down to just my underwear to go to bed, not even bothering to check if Peter was looking at me. He knew better by this point! Besides, even out of the corners of my eye, I saw nothing—nothing out of the ordinary, anyway—as I leisurely took off my clothes, adjusted my junk so it was sitting comfortably, and climbed into the top bunk.

“Hey, Alejandro, can we talk for a minute?”, Peter asked once the lights went off. He got up from his bunk and stood beside me, so he didn’t have to speak too loudly. “You’re starting to feel really horny right now, Alejandro. It’s been far too long since you last masturbated”, he whispered. “Just ignore me and satisfy your need to jerk off, boy. You see nothing—it’s like I’m not even here right now”, he suggested.

I felt a certain warmth at Peter calling me “boy”, and not just in my brain. I smiled happily, pushing down my underwear and tugging tentatively at my cock.

“You’ve been very good at ignoring me, Alejandro, and even hearing me talk to you right now, it’s so easy to pay no attention to me at all. It doesn’t matter what I say or what I do, you know you can just keep doing what you’re doing. You don’t need to worry that I’m looking at you at all. Nice and slow, boy”, Peter suggested as I got started. “You don’t want to cum until I say so.”

Despite the fact that he was talking, I kept my focus on my dick. It was firming up pretty rapidly as my foreskin flowed smoothly over the head and then back again. I was distantly aware that Peter was closer to me now, but I paid no attention to him whatsoever. In a strange, dream-like way, he was there and yet he wasn’t. The important thing right now was to stroke my dick, no matter what else was going on.

I felt Peter’s finger trail down my left arm as I lay on my bunk. A part of me was thankful that that wasn’t the arm I was jerking off with—that would’ve been kind of creepy. The thought lasted only a moment, though, then faded as Peter whispered into my ear some more. He wasn’t actually there, of course. I could just relax and keep stroking, listening to his disembodied voice. Even feeling his tongue on my ear, I ignored him—aware of it, yet not aware. The sensation of him not being there was surprisingly sensual, and I had to slow down so that I didn’t cum before he said I could.

“You’re doing excellent at ignoring me, boy. It’s so easy to pay me no mind at all, even as you listen to my voice and follow my suggestions. Just relax, Alejandro. Relax and let yourself focus completely on rubbing your dick and listening to my voice, knowing that I’m not really even here right now. Good boy. Just listen to my voice and relax”, Peter’s voice suggested in my ear.

His hand was on my chest now, one finger circling a nipple…except that it wasn’t, because he wasn’t really there. He was breathing raggedly in my ear, which I was very aware of, since I was so focused on his voice. There was a certain rhythm to his breathing—whether he was breathing in or out, his breath was pulsating. I had to fight to keep the hand that was on my cock from speeding up to match his rhythm.

“Relax, jerk off, and ignore me”, Peter’s voice encouraged me. He was sniffing me, I thought, and something was giving me goosebumps all over my upper body. “That’s a good boy…you can cum now”, he said out of the blue.

I didn’t feel like I was going to cum when I heard his voice say so, and yet it was only another dozen or so strokes before I did. It was profoundly relieving! “Good boy, Alejandro!”, Peter’s voice complimented me. “Now just relax and go to sleep. That’s it, just focus on my voice and fall deeply asleep. Deeper than ever before!”, he encouraged.

As I slept, I ignored the sensation of a hand on my stomach and instead let myself focus on sleeping more deeply than ever. I was only vaguely aware when another hand pried my mouth open, a slightly sweaty smell coming from it before Peter’s ragged breathing resumed. There was something in my mouth now, something pasty that needed to be swallowed. I did so and kept sleeping.

Continuing to ignore Peter, I swallowed again when more of the pasty stuff entered my mouth, but that pleasant relaxation was interrupted when I suddenly felt a hand peeling my foreskin down. What the fuck? I let out a plaintive moan as I tried to wake up from the depths of my slumber, but Peter reassured me that he wasn’t there. There was nothing there. Nothing to feel. I felt nothing as my foreskin slid up and down a few times. Nothing wiping the cum from underneath it just before more pasty stuff appeared on my tongue and I swallowed.

I couldn’t believe how deeply asleep I was now. Any deeper and I’d be in a coma! And yet, I was aware of just how deeply asleep I was, and how much I enjoyed listening to Peter’s ethereal voice as he growled rhythmically next to my ear, occasionally licking or even biting it—or at least he would’ve been, if he’d actually been there.

He gave a loud, satisfied groan at one point, reassuring me just beforehand that it was nothing I needed to pay any attention to. I could just sleep and swallow the large gobs of pasty stuff that were once again appearing in my mouth from out of nowhere.

It was a very strange dream that I was having, but knowing that Peter wasn’t around right now, that was obviously all it was. What else could it possibly be? I drifted even deeper as I listened to his voice, finally dropping off completely as he finished by telling me what a great nap I’d had and suggesting I continue on into a deep, natural sleep.

I had a stiffy when I woke the next morning and quickly noticed that my underpants were pushed part-way down. Holy hell! If Peter had seen me like that, he would’ve had a field day. I pulled them up quickly, and then, careful to face away from Peter’s prying eyes, I hopped down from my bunk and pulled the sheet near the toilet closed while I took a leak.

Just waking up himself, Peter came over to chat while I pissed, but I mostly ignored him. I couldn’t quite seem to make myself go, not even when Peter stood beside me and relieved his own bladder. He had a bit of morning wood, but not enough to prevent him from going. Like mine, though, it actually got harder the longer we stood there together, Peter keeping up his monologue the whole while.

After we’d been talking for a few minutes, Peter suggested that I go before morning count, putting his arm around my waist and using his other hand to help me aim my penis. Both of us stood there waiting as I did my best to relieve my morning wood, but with Peter’s hand on it, I just couldn’t seem to go. I wasn’t concerned about him touching my cock while I had a hard-on, of course. I saw nothing and felt nothing…at least nothing unusual…and I was quite impressed at how respectful Peter was under the circumstances. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d tried to grope me if he’d seen me with a hard-on, or even taken it as an invitation to do more than that, but he did nothing more than stand there holding and slightly stroking my penis for me as I tried to make it go down.

Eventually, I had to give up and just get dressed. My morning wood refused to go away, so I did my best to hide it in my pants as I stood by my bunk waiting for count to be over. Just my luck, it was CO Miller who was doing count this morning. Peter whispered something to him that I couldn’t quite hear, and Miller’s eyes dropped almost immediately to my midsection.

“Fucking fags!”, he muttered under his breath, though easily loud enough for both of us to hear. “I always figured you were one of them and just staying closeted. You two deserve each other”, he snorted, even as Peter groped Miller’s crotch. It was pretty obvious that Peter still hadn’t gotten rid of his morning wood, but Miller was so engrossed in mine, he never even noticed that Peter was having the same problem. After fondling Miller for a few more seconds, Peter whispered in his ear again and Miller turned around to leave.

I started swearing at him as soon as Miller was out of range. How dare he suggest that I was gay! Just because I had a hard-on that I couldn’t get rid of? If he weren’t a CO, I would’ve happily planted my fist in his face.

“Calm down, Alejandro!”, Peter suggested. Fuck him! No fucking way I was going to calm down. Except, I was already calming down. I got calmer the longer I stood there. While I’d been intending to spend most of the day outside the cell block, since I effectively had a day off apart from the mopping I was expected to do, I realized that it would be a lot better if I came back here after breakfast and spent the day with Peter, instead. I was looking forward to it, actually. The two of us could spend the day talking and getting to know each other better.

Suddenly, I felt more alert and aware of my surroundings than I had. It was like I was snapping out of a daydream. I could almost have believed that Peter had hypnotized me, given how I was feeling and what I knew about him, but if there was one thing I knew about Peter, it was that he’d never even try to hypnotize me. If I suspected even for a moment that he had, I would’ve bashed his head into the prison walls until it was pulp. So, it only made sense that he’d never even try something like that.

Breakfast tasted like crap, as always, though I barely even noticed it, spending most of my time thinking about how much I was looking forward to spending the day with Peter. He really had turned out to be a great cellie—far better than I would’ve ever thought someone like him could be.

When I got back to our cell after breakfast, Peter wasn’t there yet, but there was a pack of ramen noodles and a banana sitting on Peter’s bed. Both were common enough currency in prison, typically given in exchange for services like doing someone’s laundry or sometimes sexual favors. Despite Peter being gay, I couldn’t imagine him performing any kind of sexual acts for anyone—that just wasn’t his style. Like me, he liked to feel like he was in charge, and he was good at making sure people knew it. Hell, from what I’d seen of him, I was kind of surprised he’d accepted my dominance so easily in the beginning.

It seemed more like these were just gifts, all the more so since they’d been left out in the open, where anyone could steal them. Typically, that was something reserved for prison bosses, since nobody would dare steal from them. Sometimes, in higher-security prisons, it could also be someone higher in the food chain softening a newbie up, either for sexual conquest or to join a gang. Both were unlikely here in Low, though. Typically, there was a lot of trading of things people wanted, but very little hostile manipulation or gifting.

I was briefly tempted to take one or both for myself, but if they were something that Peter was expecting, he’d find out pretty quick that they’d been delivered but not received. Suspicion would fall on me first and foremost, and if Peter actually found out that I’d taken them, he’d be pissed, which was more of a concern to me than I cared to admit. So, instead of taking them, I stayed and played guard dog until Peter returned from breakfast a few minutes later.

“I know you got yourself a plum job, Alejandro, and you probably figure you can do it anytime, but why don’t you go and do it now, so it’s out of the way and we can spend the rest of the day together”, Peter suggested peremptorily. Despite his tone, I had to admit he was right, so I went to fetch the mop and bucket. It truly was a plum job, as he’d said, and I was on my way back to our cell twenty minutes later, happy that I had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day. As much as I wanted to get to know Peter better, I didn’t figure we’d spend the whole day together, and I was look forward to getting some sun in the yard, or maybe get a bit of computer time later.

As was often the case, Peter was engrossed in a book when I returned, but he put it down as soon as I entered our cell. “All done?”, he asked.

“Yup”, I confirmed.

“Anyone around besides the guards?”, Peter asked.

“There’s always someone around the unit! There doesn’t seem to be much going on, though. A couple of people in the TV room and a few in their cells”, I elaborated.

“Good enough. Why don’t you hop up onto your bunk and we’ll get started.”

“Started doing what?”, I asked, even as I climbed up.

“You’ll see. Just lie down on your back comfortably. There you go. Seeing as you have nothing else to do for the day, why don’t you take a nap?”, Peter suggested. Almost before he finished speaking, I found myself nodding off. Peter continued talking, despite the fact that I was sleeping, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed listening to his voice as I slept, going deeper and deeper the longer I listened to him.

The only time I woke up was when he stopped talking and started eating his banana. Or rather, he started tonguing his banana and half-heartedly deep-throating it. He didn’t seem to be able to take it down very far, though a part of me felt sure he must’ve had practice at that sort of thing if he was gay.

After he’d been doing that for a minute, he passed the banana to me and suggested that I take a turn. I was distantly surprised that he was handing me fresh fruit—quite a commodity in prison—but I sure as hell wasn’t about to say no. To thank him for giving it to me, I followed his example and showed him how I could tongue it without biting, especially right around the top of it. Once he was satisfied with how well I did that, I showed him how good I was at deep-throating it. With only a few tries, I was soon taking it even deeper than he had, and I glowed as he complimented me on my talent at it.

We moved to the far side of our cell after that. Despite being wide awake, the movement seemed somehow jarring, so Peter spent a few minutes reassuring me that I could stay completely relaxed and just listen to his voice. He had such a pleasant voice! Once I felt a bit calmer and less perturbed from having had to move, Peter went back to talking about the banana. I really enjoyed eating bananas! I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed them until I’d wrapped my mouth around the one I’d just had. We sometimes got fruit in the cafeteria, but it was often the cheapest shit they could get their hands on, sometimes even going bad already. This banana had been good! I kind of wished I’d gotten to actually eat the banana, but even just licking it and deep-throating it had been enjoyable enough. The next time Peter offered me a banana, even if he didn’t want me to eat it outright, I’d be more than happy to lick it and deep-throat it like I’d been doing.

I stayed on my knees in front of Peter for quite some time, closing my eyes and enjoying the sound of his voice as he continued talking about bananas. My mouth was absolutely watering with how he was going on about them. I so wanted a banana in my mouth! The next time I opened my eyes, though, I was instead greeted by the disgusting sight of Peter standing in front of me, leaning back against the wall of our cell, holding his massive erection right in front of my face! I could almost have admired how big it was if it weren’t for how disgusted I felt that it was only an inch or two away from me.

“Fuck right off, buddy!”, I bitched at Peter. “You get that fucking shit outta my face right now!”, I ordered. It was only the respect that I’d developed for him in the weeks he’d been with me that made me stay on my knees in front of him instead of cracking his skull against the wall, consequences be damned.

“What’s the problem, Ally? It’s only a banana”, Peter asserted.

What the fuck was he on? Only a banana, my ass! It was clearly a co— For just a second, I thought I saw a banana. No, no, it was definitely his cock. Except, the minute I took my eyes off of it and looked back, it was a banana again. This time, I forced myself to remember it was his cock, but even without taking my eyes off of it, it started to look like the banana that Peter claimed it was. With his repeated reassurance that it was just a banana, I realized he was right. It was indeed just a banana—one of the largest bananas I’d ever seen, actually. It was probably a good seven or eight inches long and very thick for a banana. I stared at it vacantly, licking my lips. I loved the taste of banana!

“That’s right, Ally. It’s just a banana. And what do you do with bananas when they’re offered to you?”, Peter prompted.

“I lick them and suck them and deep-throat them!”, I responded mechanically.

“Right again, Ally, so why don’t you help yourself. Really enjoy that banana in front of you”, he suggested.

At first, it didn’t taste quite as good as the previous banana had, but I kept at it anyway. Even if it didn’t taste all that special, it was still the best thing I’d ever had in my mouth. Taste wasn’t everything, after all. It was just so satisfying wrapping my lips around such a nice, large banana. Peter even helped me by holding on to it for me and guiding it deep into my mouth, sometimes rubbing the outside of the banana almost phallically. Even when he pretty much appeared to be jerking it off, though, I remained quite certain it was a banana.

There was a noise just down the row from our cell, causing both of us to look towards it instinctively, though it sounded like it was probably just someone leaving the TV room and scuffling along the floor slightly. When I looked back, I had Peter’s large, erect cock in my hand, and it was covered in saliva and precum. No, no, that couldn’t be right. It was a banana, I insisted to myself.

“Something wrong, Ally?”, Peter asked, a false note of concern in his voice.

“No, nothing. I just thought I saw… No, it’s a banana!”, I insisted.

“It’s a banana”, Peter agreed.

“It’s a banana”, I confirmed, quite sure that it was now that Peter had said so himself.

“That’s it, boy. Now that you’re quite sure it’s a banana, why don’t you get back to work sucking it. You like sucking a banana, don’t you, boy?”, Peter demanded, a satisfied tone of dominance coming through quite clearly in his question.

“Yes, I love sucking bananas”, I agreed monotonically, opening my mouth for Peter to stick his banana into once more. He was quite vigorous about it this time, holding my head and pumping his banana as deep into my throat as he could get it. Peter moaned quietly as I felt the banana release some kind of slimy pulp or something into my mouth. It tasted vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place where I knew the flavor from. It tasted good, though, like all banana-related flavors did, so I swallowed it eagerly, enjoying the feel of it as it clung to my throat.

“Hey, Ally, it’s almost time for lunch!”, Peter said, shaking me to wake me up.

“Since when…”, I coughed hoarsely, the words barely audible. Fuck, my throat hurt! “Since when—do you—call—me—Ally?”, I glowered.

“Since I let you eat my banana”, he said, proffering the smaller of the two bananas I’d been tonguing earlier. It was all slimy and disgusting from how much I’d been licking and deep-throating it before, and it had a few fibers on it from lying on my bed while I’d been sleeping, but I couldn’t resist a banana, and I began to suck and deep-throat the banana some more until it truly was a slimy mess and I had little choice but to swallow the pulpy crap that went into my mouth.

This wasn’t the first time I’d eaten pulpy banana juice—I was sure I’d done it fairly recently, in fact, though I couldn’t think when—but whatever state it was in, this was one fantastic banana. Despite how slow I took it, I managed to finish it just in time for lunch, though I kind of cheated and swallowed the last bit whole, despite how much it hurt. I kind of liked the pain, in a way, but only because it was a banana.

As Peter and I walked toward the dining hall, I looked over at him, feeling a certain gratefulness towards him for sharing his food with me. Looking around quickly to make sure nobody was in hearing range, I spoke quietly, though that was only partly by choice, since my throat still hurt like a sonofabitch! “Fine, you can call my Ally just as long as no one can hear, and you keep giving me your bananas.”

“Not to worry, Ally, I intend to!”, Peter chuckled as though he knew something I didn’t.

When I got back from lunch, I noticed Ricardo leaving our cell as I returned from the yard. Nobody was around, but there was an apple on Peter’s bed. Had Ricardo actually just left Peter a gift? What on earth was going on? I didn’t even know the two of them had been talking, much less that they’d become friends. Still, even if his behavior was a little unusual, I was happy to see that Ricardo was getting along with Peter.

Now that Peter was sharing his bananas with me, things got a lot better between us and I really started to feel closer to him. I couldn’t help but notice that Ricardo was stopping by our cell more often now. Like me, he really seemed to like Peter now that he’d had a chance to get to know him better. Often, the two of them would talk for half an hour or more, and sometimes, it looked like Ricardo was about to nod off while they spoke, but invariably, he stayed awake. I saw nothing more than two people chatting.

Despite all the napping I’d been doing recently, and the make-work job I had now, I often felt really worn throughout the day, so no matter what else I might have had planned, I always returned straight to our cell after meals. It was funny how I’d perk up after getting back to my cell, no longer feeling worn out at all, and yet most of the time, I fell asleep within moments of Peter arriving.

Today was different, though. At lunch, one of the other inmates got up in Peter’s face and without even thinking about it, I told him to knock it off. When he didn’t, I stood up and gave the guy a warning jab just under the ribs. “I said, knock it off!”

“Fuck you! You his bitch or something, Alejandro?”, the guy asked. “Since when do you care what happens to a fuckin’ chomo?”

“He’s not a fucking chomo, and if I see you go anywhere near him again, I’m gonna kick your god damned ass! And you know I can fucking do it, too!”, I told him, aware that things had gotten to the point where we were starting to attract the wrong kind of attention. I could see one of the COs heading in our direction, waving to the others that there was a problem. “Sit the fuck back down and eat your lunch, and so help me, if you say anything to the guards, it’ll be the last thing you say for a month!”, I threatened.

Clearly confused by my defense of Peter, but knowing full well that I was capable of carrying out everything I’d threatened him with, the guy sat down. I didn’t even know what his name was, I realized, though I had enough of a reputation in the prison that he knew mine, it seemed.

“Everything okay over here?”, the CO I’d first noticed demanded menacingly.

“Yeah, it’s fine”, the guy replied abrasively. “Just a little disagreement. We’re good now.”

“Be sure it stays that way!”, the CO said, looking squarely at me. All the COs knew my skills, since there were only a few guys in Low who were potential physical threats to them. Most of the inmates were office workers who’d committed white-collar crimes, and several were some kind of sexual deviant, but only a handful could take on a CO single-handedly and expect to come out on top in a fair fight…not that a fair fight was likely.

Despite my confidence in my ability to win a fight, especially with some twerp like the guy who’d been harassing Peter, I was shaking slightly and no longer really in the mood to eat. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Not only had I just defended some fag, something I never would’ve done just a few short weeks ago, I’d done so in full view of several inmates. My reputation was probably about to tank, which would likely lessen my immunity to harassment in the prison as a whole. The fact that I’d been willing to get physical might’ve helped with that, but maybe not. Time would tell.

As soon as the controlled movement came after lunch, I strode back to our cell, feeling pissed and broody. What the hell had gotten into me? I’d always had everything completely under control before.

I took another brief nap after Peter got back to our cell, but it didn’t help much, so he suggested I take a longer break out in the yard or whatever I needed to do to let off some steam. When I returned an hour later, I was feeling at least a bit better, and at Peter’s suggestion, I lay down on my bunk again. I wasn’t even remotely tired, and I was quite sure I wasn’t anywhere close to falling asleep, yet the moment Peter mentioned it, my eyes closed, and I was once again enjoying a deeper sleep than I’d ever enjoyed before.

Not unusually, I got hard while I was sleeping and listening to Peter’s voice. As was often the case lately, I woke up with both my pants and underpants down. Unlike the other times, though, Peter was definitely noticing my cock this time…and admiring it. “Fuck off, Peter! I’m not in the mood”, I warned. Despite how I was feeling, I was reluctant to act against him in any way, so I continued lying there and letting him look, no matter how much I hated it.

“Maybe later”, he smirked. “For right now, Ally, you see nothing.”

“I see nothing”, I agreed. I felt a sense of relief wash over me now that I was sure Peter wasn’t looking at my erect cock anymore. He was so respectful of my privacy.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m looking at your erection, does it?”, Peter asked.

“No, of course not. I know you’re not really looking at it, even if you can see it”, I assured him. Already, my mood seemed to be lightening a bit.

“No, no, I promise you, Ally, I am looking at your erection, and I’m admiring it. It’s a nice enough dick in its own right, I suppose—even if not quite as big as I usually prefer—but you seem so much more virile after your little display at lunch. It makes looking at your nice, hard dick just that much more…interesting”, Peter chuckled.

“Well, fine, if you say you’re admiring it, I’m not going to argue, but you’re obviously being very discreet about it, cuz I see nothing, at least nothing objectionable”, I said calmly. “As for that display at lunch, don’t expect—” I stopped as Peter cut me off.

“It’s okay, Ally, I know you probably lost face for that. I don’t think you need to worry about it, though. Enough people around here like me that I suspect the rest won’t be given much chance to say anything about your little display. Besides, a little humility is a good thing”, he smiled.

“If you say so”, I replied noncommittally.

“Trust me!”, he grinned. That, I most certainly did. I’d only known him a couple of weeks now, but I trusted him more than anyone else in here. “Now, let’s get back to the good stuff. Since you’re so comfortable with me staring thirstily at that studly young cock of yours, how would you feel if I touched it? And I don’t mean just holding it for you while you take a leak, I mean actually feeling you up while you have an erection.”

“Fuck that! No fucking way I’m letting you touch my cock! Hell, I’m not even sure why I’ve been letting you hold it sometimes when I take a piss”, I groused.

“You sure you won’t let me touch it?”, Peter asked. “You feel nothing.”

“I feel nothing”, I confirmed as Peter wrapped his hand around my cock and started stroking it.

“I imagine you’re having thoughts of hurting me right now, aren’t you, Ally?”, Peter suggested. “I mean, I am playing with your nice, hard cock right now, like you just finished telling me not to!”

“Naw, man, it’s okay. I feel nothing. I mean, I can feel your hand on my cock, of course, but I don’t really feel anything, you know? It’s like I know in my mind that it’s there, but physically, it might as well not be.”

“So, you’re basically aware that I’m fondling you, and you’re just ignoring it?”, Peter suggested.

“Yeah, that’s it! If you were feeling me up without my permission or whatever, that’d be a different story, but…I dunno…I know you didn’t ask or anything, but you kind of gave me some warning before you grabbed it, and it…it just wasn’t a big deal after that. Does that make any sense?”, I asked.

“Not really, but the important thing is that you’re going to let me grab your cock anytime I want to from now on”, Peter grinned. “It doesn’t even bother you that I’m stroking my own cock right now, does it?”

“Of course not”, I agreed. “I mean, you’re keeping it in your pants, at least at the moment, so why should I care?”, I asked, panting as Peter found a good spot with his thumb.

“Good boy, Alejandro! Good little Ally!”, Peter laughed. “I’m sure there are times when you’re going to hate the idea of a middle-aged fag touching your cock, but don’t worry, you just come to me and I’ll get you all fixed up in no time.”

“Sure, Peter”, I agreed. “Whatever you say.”

¡Madre de Dios! What the fuck are you guys doing?”, Ricardo’s voice sounded from the door to our cell.

“You see nothing, Ricardo”, Peter reassured him. Apparently, Ricardo was as accepting of what Peter was doing as I was. “You do have a point, though. Guys are already starting to return from their work shifts, so we’ll have to wrap this up.” I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Peter took his hand off my cock. There had been something disturbing about it, yet equally, something very arousing! “Was there something you wanted, Ricardo?”, Peter asked as I pulled my pants back up.

“Yes, jefe. I just wanted to say I’m sorry I couldn’t get what you wanted yet. It’s coming, but it’s gonna take time. I got this for you instead, though. I hope it’s okay”, Ricardo said submissively, circumspectly pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. I’d never seen Ricardo behave this way before.

“There’s no data on it or anything, so you can’t get on the web or call out, but you can listen to music through the speaker. It used to be mine, but you can have it if you want”, Ricardo offered.

Peter’s answering grin was positively feral. “You see nothing, Ally”, Peter reminded me as he noted my look of shock. He was right, of course. There was hardly anything unusual about Ricardo offering Peter his cell phone. He’d managed to keep it hidden from the COs for at least a year now, but it was time for him to pass it on. If he’d passed it on to anyone else, I would’ve wondered what they had over him, but giving it to Peter only made sense.

“Fuck, I wish you were more my type”, Peter grinned. “Oh well, it’s still good having you…having you eager to offer me presents”, Peter said, tucking the phone into his pants pocket.

“I wish I was more your type too, Peter. I really like giving you things! If you change your mind, I could probably be convinced to give you myself”, Ricardo offered, thrusting his crotch forward slightly. “Especially if you talk to me like you’ve been doing lately. I don’t know what you do, but it’s fantastic!”

“I haven’t done anything unusual, Ricardo. We were just talking, like always. It’s nothing more than a casual conversation”, Peter asserted.

“Oh, I know, jefe. That newspaper article saying you can hypnotize people is total BS. You couldn’t really do that shit, cuz if you could, you wouldn’t still be here, obviously”, Ricardo agreed with Peter.

“Good, good. Glad you understand. Now, off you go”, Peter told him, swatting him in the crotch that Ricardo was still trying to show off. Ricardo gave a grunt of discomfort, but left immediately.

Ricardo’s cell phone was among the bigger things I saw Peter get, but gifts continued to arrive regularly, usually only one every couple of days at first, but more frequently as time went on. Besides Ricardo, there were at least three inmates and one CO that I’d seen leaving Peter things, though there was hardly anything unusual about any of it. Peter deserved gifts, after all. Ricardo eventually got what he was waiting for, and got down on his knees in our cell one night to offer Peter an MP3 player, complete with headphones and everything. Nice guy that he was, Peter even returned Ricardo’s phone to him, since he only really used it for music anyway, and the MP3 player was a lot better than the crappy old phone was. Ricardo blushed profusely that Peter was giving him such an expensive gift, and he tried to refuse it several times until Peter insisted.

I even got him a few things from the commissary myself. Mostly, it was small snacks, but today, I’d gotten him a bottle of baby oil. I wondered, at first, what Peter intended to use it for, but it wasn’t long before I found out. That night, I was contentedly ignoring him as he stroked my cock to its full hardness, then kept going. I felt nothing, either physically or emotionally, even though I was distantly aware that he was getting off on it. At this point, it really didn’t seem like anything I needed to pay any attention to at all.

When I lifted my legs as he requested, I suddenly became very aware of the sensation of a cool liquid hitting the area between my balls and ass, then slowly dribbling down between my butt cheeks. “Oh, no!”, I yelped, suddenly feeling more alert. “No fucking way am I letting you down there!” It was hard to stay angry at him, though, or even be as alarmed as I’d become. His presence, his voice…everything about him was just so soothing. I really had to focus to stay upset.

“Shhh…just relax, Ally”, Peter told me calmly. “I would never do anything like that without your permission. I just thought you might enjoy the sensation. It’s very smooth, very relaxing”, he suggested. “Just lie back and relax, and focus on how it feels as the oil makes its way around your butthole. It’s so sensuous, so relaxing. That’s a good boy, Ally. Lie back and relax, and just listen to my voice.”

I had to admit, he was right. Once he’d reassured me that he wasn’t going to do anything without my permission, I began to calm down again. I trusted him more than anyone else in the prison, so if he said he wasn’t going to do anything, I knew he wouldn’t.

“That’s it, Ally. Relax and enjoy the sensation of my finger around your hole. You feel nothing, of course, nothing but a vaguely pleasurable sensation that gives you a bit of a buzz, but it’s nothing you need to pay attention to”, he assured me. I felt much more relaxed at Peter’s assurances. I could feel his finger working its was around my ass, always staying on the outside, just like he’d promised.

“Good boy, Ally. Now, just keep relaxing. Stay perfectly calm. You’re feeling so peaceful right now, you couldn’t care less if I put anything in your ass or not. It’s just so nice to lie in your bunk and relax”, he told me, his finger comfortably doing what I’d expected, given what he’d said. As usual, he was one hundred percent correct. Not only did I not care that he’d stuck his finger up my ass, I didn’t even care that he hadn’t asked permission like he’d promised. I’d given him implied permission when I hadn’t objected to the idea.

“There you go. Just relax and pay no attention to what I’m doing, boy. Yeah, you’re slowly becoming my bitch, but you don’t even care about that. It’s all just so peaceful and relaxing. You feel nothing, Alejandro. You feel nothing but pleasure at having my fingers in your ass, and a calm sense of peace at being my bitch”, Peter assured me.

I lay back and just enjoyed the sensations he was giving me. I thought he might be up to more than one finger by this point, but I felt nothing other than the pleasure he was giving me and a sense of place, a sense of rightness that I’d never felt before. I was going to be his bitch soon, in every sense of the word, and I felt more comfortable with that role than anything I’d ever felt since I’d first entered prison. Why had I fought against it all this time and been so mean to all the homos?

I got very worried when Peter had me hop down from my own bunk and bend over his, and even started to feel that same sense of alarm as I had earlier. I didn’t want to be gay or even just do gay things!

“There’s no need to be afraid, Alejandro”, Peter reassured me as he saw me beginning to quiver. “I’m not going to fuck you, I’m just using a banana. I’d never put my cock inside you, nor would I ever let anyone else do so”, he assured me. I had a hard time believing that until he invited me to look at what he was about to put into me. To my surprise, Peter wasn’t even naked anymore. I couldn’t see exactly what he was wearing, but just like he’d said, the only thing anywhere near his waist was a banana.

With that out of the way, I calmed right down, relaxing my hole as I felt the banana making its way inside. It felt surprisingly good! How it didn’t turn to mush, I had no idea, but I’d figured out a long time ago that Peter was very talented with bananas. The funny thing was, even though he was only fucking me with his banana, I felt an inner peace that I’d never known before. I knew I was truly his bitch now, and I felt more comfortable with that than I’d ever felt being the one in control.

What was even better was that once we were done, Peter let me eat the banana rather than keeping it for himself! I’d been extremely hesitant at first, knowing the banana had been up my ass, but Peter just reminded me how great bananas tasted and I found I didn’t really care where it had been anymore.

One day, just a few days before Peter’s trial was scheduled, my new routine of napping all day and eating bananas or taking them up my ass all night was interrupted by CO Miller. “Psychologist says he wants to see you two in his office”, Miller informed us redundantly. All appointments like this were always posted either on the same list as the jobs or next to it, depending on the prison, so Peter and I had both been expecting an escort to arrive at some point.

“Excellent! I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”, Peter enthused. Miller gave him a disdainful look. I was pretty sure in his mind, inmates weren’t supposed to have fun. “Hey Doug, can we talk for a minute? As you escort us to the psychologist’s office, I want you to do your best to shield me from the view of anyone who might notice me getting an erection. I’ll try to hide it as well, of course, but just to be safe, I need you to do your part, too.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Peter!”, CO Miller said, as if it were a perfectly normal thing for him to do.

“Great. It’s been good talking to you”, Peter replied. The CO didn’t react to that, almost as if Peter hadn’t said anything at all.

“The hell?”, I questioned, though by this point, I was largely used to odd things occurring and hardly even noticed them anymore.

“As always, you see nothing, Ally”, Peter grinned, clearly groping himself with the hand in his pants pocket.

“I see nothing”, I confirmed, falling in behind CO Miller as he led the two of us out of our cell.

Being the middle of the morning, there weren’t all that many people around for Peter to need to hide from, but there were a few. The unit COs nodded at CO Miller on his way by and I noticed him drop back towards Peter slightly to run interference for him. The unit COs didn’t seem to think anything of it. After that, it was smooth sailing until we got close to the psychologist’s office. Then, there were a few COs and other staff in close proximity. For the most part, none of them paid much attention to us, and the few who did didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Peter was hiding things pretty well all on his own anyway, but I gathered that Peter was pretty well endowed, so he probably couldn’t hide it completely. I saw absolutely nothing, of course, but I supposed someone who didn’t spend as much time with Peter might notice something I was overlooking.

When we got to the psychologist’s office, I was surprised when CO Miller took a seat right alongside me and Peter. Once Dr. Emmerson turned off the camera on the wall, Peter stopped trying to hide the fact that he had an erection. I barely even noticed the lump in his pants anymore, especially knowing that it was as likely to be a banana as anything. Miller seemed completely oblivious to it, or at least he was comfortable enough with it that he took no notice. Dr. Emmerson, however, seemed all too interested in Peter’s cock, actively looking at it and licking his lips.

“Someone wanna tell me why I’m taking time out of my day for this—especially out of my lunch hour coming up!”, CO Miller demanded, obviously unimpressed with the fact that he had to be here. At least, I assumed he had to, given Dr. Emmerson’s lack of reaction when Miller had taken a seat.

“It’s come to my attention”, Dr. Emmerson began, “that you and young Alejandro here have been at odds with one another. As you’re well aware, Mr. Miller, it’s considered inappropriate for a CO to deliberately antagonize those under their care, and if the infraction is bad enough, it can even lead to disciplinary action. Thankfully, our other resident psychologist—a stupendously talented man, I might add—noticed the issue before any of the senior staff became aware of it, and he even had a brilliant suggestion for how to resolve the problem. Despite the fact that we all know he’s innocent, the simple fact is that Dr. Rhodes cannot practice while he’s with us, at least not without my direct supervision, so he suggested—”

“And just what was this brilliant suggestion?”, CO Miller interrupted skeptically.

“Oh, he said that I should trust him completely and invite all of you here so that he could resolve the problem in his own way. Since he’s clearly far smarter and more talented than I’ll ever be, I decided to let him follow through with his plan with no further questions.”

For my part, I was a bit surprised, but I was used to the admiration Peter got from some people. CO Miller seemed dumbfounded, however.

“Doug, can we talk for a minute?”, Peter asked.

“Yeah, sure Peter. What’s up?”

“You do trust me, don’t you? You trust me more than anyone you’ve ever met, and every word out of my mouth only deepens that trust, doesn’t it?”, Peter prompted.

“Yeah”, CO Miller replied simply.

“Great, then you can accept Marky at his word. Letting me do whatever I want really is the best plan”, Peter asserted.

“Right, yeah, of course it is!”, CO Miller agreed.

“And that includes stroking my cock while we’re talking, right?”, Peter suggested.

“Sure, if that’s what you want”, Miller agreed.

“Perfect! It’s been good talking to you”, Peter finished as he started unzipping his pants. My face soured as he took his cock out, but only for a second. It turned out it was only a banana, as usual, and much like Dr. Emmerson, I sat there staring at it and licking my lips, hoping I’d get the chance to lick it soon.

“So, as I was saying”, Dr. Emmerson said, giving Miller a slightly dirty look for interrupting his admiration of Peter, “I’m going to leave the rest of this discussion in Dr. Rhodes’ extremely capable hands. Doctor?”, Emmerson gave Peter the go ahead, motioning with his hand for him to proceed.

“Thank you, Marky. Now, since I know Doug here understands that the best course of action is to let me do what I want, and my little prison bitch sees nothing, why don’t you just relax and listen to my voice, Marky. That’s a good boy. It feels so good listening to my voice, doesn’t it?” Dr. Emmerson had such a placid look of contentment on his face right now, I could almost believe that Peter had hypnotized him, except that I’d never seen Peter hypnotize anyone, and somehow, I knew he never would. “Look at my cock, Marky”, Peter instructed, swinging the banana at his waist back and forth. “It looks delicious, doesn’t it? Why don’t you come and show me how much you admire my…pscyhological skills, Marky?”

Almost robotically, Dr. Emmerson got up from his desk, apparently unconcerned about having a visible erection. He must’ve had it at least since we’d arrived, if not before, because it was not only a full hard-on, but it had clearly been positioned for comfort, even though Emmerson’s hands had been in view for most of the time we’d been here.

CO Miller had a puzzled look as he watched what was going on, almost as though he thought something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t see what it was that was troubling him. It stopped mattering to me as Peter spoke up, his voice confident. “Doug, Ally, it’s time for a nap.”

“Ooooh, man, that was relaxing! I really needed a nap. Thanks for suggesting it, Peter!”, CO Miller raved as he and I both woke up from our respective naps at the same time. Down on his knees, Dr. Emmerson also appeared to be just waking up, despite having been wide awake when Peter had suggested I nap.

“Now then, Doug, I’ve heard Ally’s side of things from time to time, but why don’t you tell me why it is you dislike my bitch so much”, Peter suggested as Dr. Emmerson, CO Miller and I all stood up and started taking off our clothes. Emmerson couldn’t seem to get his off fast enough. “And I want you to be completely honest. Don’t hold back.”

“Cuz he’s an arrogant little prick!”, Miller replied, his words oddly calm. “From the day he showed up here, he had this cocky attitude, like his shit didn’t stink, and he clearly thought could do whatever the fuck he wanted. I took one look at him and decided I was gonna set him straight.” Miller’s pants were off now, and he started stroking the erection he’d gotten in his sleep as he sat back down in his chair. “And in the year and a bit that he’s been here, he’s never shown any sign that that’s changed in the least, no matter what I’ve done. He gets on my fucking nerves!”

I, of course, didn’t touch myself at all without Peter’s permission, so once I was naked, I sat back down and pulled my chair in as close to him as I could, just in case he wanted to feel me up. It was gay, of course, but I just ignored it completely when he did that, now. Sure enough, Peter absent-mindedly started fondling my cock even before he turned away from CO Miller.

“Is that true, Ally? Are you a cocky little prick? I mean, it’s not large, by any stretch, but I wouldn’t call it a little prick, either…unlike Doug’s”, Peter laughed. Miller didn’t seem bothered by the insult in the least.

Spreading my legs, I tried to show myself off to everyone, though I really didn’t have all that much to brag about. Peter was notably larger than I was, while Dr. Emmerson was about the same size as me. Still, CO Miller was, as Peter had said, notably on the small side, at least from what I knew of penis size, so I felt kind of vindicated that I was bigger than he was.

“That’s not true, what CO Miller said!”, I insisted. “Well…I mean…I don’t want it to be true. Maybe I kinda was, at first. I’m not an arrogant little prick anymore.”

“Especially not since you met me, isn’t that right, Ally?”, Peter suggested.

“Damn right! I’m a good little prison bitch!”, I insisted, knowing that whatever image I projected to the other inmates, I was nothing compared to Peter. It was hard to be arrogant when, every single day, you were faced with someone that much better than you.

“He is, too”, Peter reassured CO Miller. “He was definitely a cocky, arrogant prick when we first met, but now, he respects me at least as much as Marky here does.” I hadn’t noticed until Peter mentioned him, but Dr. Emmerson was back on his knees deep-throating Peter now. Thankfully, I couldn’t see Peter’s cock while it was in Dr. Emmerson’s mouth—not that I would’ve said anything if I had. “Little Ally does whatever I tell him to now, don’t you, boy? You love getting a banana in your mouth or in your ass anytime I want to put one there, isn’t that right?”

“Damn straight! You have the best fucking bananas I’ve ever had!”, I nodded.

“See, Doug. He’s no longer the cocky little prick you once knew. Now, he’s an obedient boy who knows his place. In fact, I’ll bet if I told him to, he’d get down on his knees right now and suck your cock”, Peter averred.

“Fuck that!”, CO Miller and I said in unison. Peter just laughed at us. “Shush for a moment, bitch”, Peter ordered. Sullenly, I complied.

“Doug, there’s nothing wrong with letting Ally suck you off. Blowjobs feel fantastic, and I know for a fact that you haven’t had one in a while. It’s just the four of us, so nobody will ever know that you let another guy suck you off in here. In fact, I don’t want you to even think of Ally as a guy. Ally can be a girl’s name too, after all, and he’s just my personal little bitch that I’m letting you borrow. Not really a man at all. You wouldn’t complain about getting a blowjob from someone who wasn’t a man, would you?”

“I…I guess not”, he replied, obviously trying to wrap his mind around the idea that a guy who was getting his cock stroked wasn’t a man. I hated the idea that Peter was portraying me as not being a man, much less that he seemed to be bartering my mouth off. No fucking way I was sucking Miller’s cock! Not any man, but especially not him. Still, it wasn’t my place to say no to Peter, so I sat in silence, feeling trapped and unsure how I’d react if Peter actually told me to do it.

“That’s right, Doug. My little bitch here isn’t a man. He’s just a bitch who happens to have a man’s body. He’s the hottest bitch you’ve ever met, in fact. You’d like to get sucked off by a hot little bitch, wouldn’t you, Doug? Then maybe fuck your bitch after?”

“Fuck yeah! I love fucking bitches! Man, I fantasize about fucking bitches all the time. That’s probably why I don’t get very many women—they don’t like it when you call them bitch. Well, most of them don’t, anyway”, CO Miller complained.

“You can call Ally your bitch as much as you want, Doug! And since you like fucking bitches so much, I’ll even let you have him later, but not quite yet. Does that sound like fun?”

“Hell yeah! I’m gonna fuck that little bitch good and hard!”, Miller told Peter, looking directly into my eyes as he said it. At this point, I was starting to become afraid of what Miller wanted to do to me. I was sure I could overcome him if it came to that, but if I did, I’d never see the outside again. I was begging silently for Peter not to tell me to do it, cuz the more I thought about it, the more I thought I probably would do as he ordered, regardless of how I felt about it.

As awesome as Peter was, he couldn’t miss seeing the fear in my eyes. “Just relax, Alejandro. I won’t let him hurt you. You know I always protect you, especially your ass. I keep you safe, and you’re very grateful to me for that”, Peter asserted.

I hadn’t thought of it quite that way before, though I respected Peter immensely, of course, so it made sense that he’d be my protector. I was still a bit worried that Miller might get out of control, but Peter kept reassuring me.

“Now, Ally, I want you to look at the tiny little dick that CO Miller’s stroking like there was no tomorrow. Even as small as it is, it’s clearly a cock, isn’t it, Ally?”, Peter asked.

“Yeah, of course!”, I told him, wondering where he was going with this.

“And you have no interest in sucking anyone’s cock, do you? Even as much as you respect me, if I actually gave you a choice, you’d never suck any guy’s cock, much less CO Miller’s, would you?”

“No, sorry. Like I said the day I met you, I’m straight. Even if I let you play with my cock or put bananas in my ass sometimes, I’m always gonna be straight, and there’s nothing that’ll change that”, I apologized. “I sometimes wish I could be that person for you, just cuz of how I feel about you, but I can’t.” I could never lie to Peter, but since he’d asked what I’d do if I had a choice, I tactfully chose not to tell him what my line of thinking had been only moments ago.

“That’s alright, Ally. What you do for me is plenty enough as it is. Now, I want you to look straight at Doug’s cock for me. It’s very clearly a cock, and he loves jerking it off like I told him to. But here’s the thing, Ally: it’s actually a banana. The longer you look at CO Miller’s cock, the more you’re going to realize that it looks like a banana…that it is a banana. Good boy, just watch him stroking his tiny little dick, except no matter how much he strokes it and no matter how horny he sounds from stroking his dick, he’s actually just rubbing a tiny little banana.”

I wasn’t used to anyone else except Peter having a banana, but the longer he spoke, the more I realized that Peter was right. “Holy fuck! I could’ve sworn he had a cock, but it actually is just a banana, isn’t it? That’s fucked up! I was sure he was naked just a minute ago.”

“Not to worry, Ally. It’s just a banana. And what do you do with bananas, Ally?”

“I lick them and suck them and take them in my hole”, I responded instinctively, knowing exactly what uses I could put a banana to. Watching CO Miller stroke his banana, my mouth started to water. “You…uh…you want me to suck your banana, CO?”

“Fuck yeah, bitch! Get that hot little mouth of yours over here, whore”, Miller said, standing up and brandishing his banana tantalizingly in front of him like it was some kind of weapon.

Compared to taking Peter’s much larger bananas into my mouth, CO Miller’s presented no challenge at all. It didn’t even hit the back of my throat like Peter’s bananas did. Under Peter’s watchful eyes, I knelt at CO Miller’s feet and let him thrust his banana into my mouth as hard and as fast as he wanted. For some reason, he kept insisting that he was fucking my mouth and asking me how I liked sucking him off, but I knew it was nothing more than a banana. It was actually kind of enjoyable being on my knees for him. His banana had a different taste to it, and I appreciated the variety, but it was more than that. I belonged on my knees for older guys. Miller was only about ten years older than me, so I didn’t feel it quite as strongly with him as I did for Peter’s nearly thirty-year age difference, but it still felt right.

With a little encouragement, Miller let Peter hold his banana for him as I worked. Several times, he reached underneath the banana to grab something else; for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what might be hanging underneath a banana. Miller often gasped in pain when Peter did, but no matter how painful it was, he always let Peter do it. A few times, he got a panicky look on his face, but whenever he did, Peter would just stop and reassure him, talking to him about going deeper or something like that—I guessed he meant going deeper into whatever he was holding onto. It didn’t make much sense to me, so I just ignored it. Eventually, things got to a point where Miller stopped looking afraid at all, and let Peter do whatever he wanted.

“You like taking pain for me, don’t you, Doug? Taking it for the team? They train you to expect that sort of thing, don’t they? You have to obey, to show a united front to the prisoners and never show weakness, isn’t that right?”

“Yes”, Miller whimpered. “Gotta do what the warden says, no matter what!”

“And who’s the warden right now, boy?”

“You are, sir! You’re higher than the warden. Gotta take it for you, do whatever you say!”, Miller insisted.

“Good boy! So, if I tell you to take pain for me, what do you do?”, Peter demanded.

“I take pain! Doesn’t matter how much it hurts, I have to take it!” Clearly, Miller was struggling, but he was doing it.

“And what if I told you to suck my cock, Doug? You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”, Peter suggested.

“Fuck yeah, but you gotta do what you gotta do, you know…for the warden and for the team!”

“And if I stick something up your ass while you’re doing it? Actually fuck it, let’s just find out!”, Peter chortled, pulling his cock out of Dr. Emmerson’s mouth and grabbing CO Miller’s head instead, forcing it down onto his cock. “Marky, why don’t you get out that nice lube that you like so much. I trust you got some extra for me to take back to my cell, like I told you to.”

“Of course, Peter. You know I’d never disobey a fantastic man like you! I even put it into the same kind of moisturizer bottle they sell at the commissary. Nobody’ll know it’s fisting lube unless they start comparing it with another bottle of moisturizer”, Emmerson informed Peter proudly, almost like a child who’d done something he knew his parents would be pleased with.

“Good boy!” As absorbed in CO Miller’s banana as I was, I couldn’t actually see Dr. Emmerson’s face, but I could almost feel him beaming at the compliment. I heard his desk drawer open, then Emmerson came back and handed Peter a tub of something. It wasn’t in a moisturizer jar, like Emmerson had described, but that made sense once I thought about it. This was obviously his supply of it, not the stuff he’d set aside for Peter.

“Now, Doug, I want you to focus on your bitch. Focus on how good he’s making you feel right now. As you follow my orders and take whatever pain I choose to give you, you’re going to find it very easy to just focus entirely on how good Alejandro makes you feel. You’ll barely even notice anything I’m doing. As always, though, you’ll listen to my voice and obey.” Even as he was speaking, I could tell Peter was spreading something around CO Miller’s backside. I couldn’t believe Miller was putting up with this! Still, it wasn’t my place to comment. My place was to suck Miller’s banana.

Peter and Dr. Emmerson spoke briefly, though I didn’t really pay much attention to what they said. Next thing I knew, Peter was standing behind Miller, fucking his brains out, while Emmerson was massaging something on my ass. I felt nothing, of course, so I ignored it. I was so used to Peter putting fingers and bananas in there that, even though it wasn’t him this time, I took it completely in stride. Hell, if anything, what Emmerson was doing was even more comfortable than when Peter did it, though I could never believe that that was Peter’s fault. Clearly, it was the so-called fisting lube, whatever that was, that was making the difference.

Miller seemed to really hate what Peter was doing to him at first, but the more Peter spoke to him and reminded him to focus on me, the more Miller got into all of it. Twice, I was rewarded with that pulpy banana juice that tasted so good going down my throat, but I just kept going like a good little bitch. I wouldn’t stop licking that banana until Peter told me to. Miller was calling me all sorts of names now that he wasn’t focused on Peter anymore, and I was grateful for the things he called me. I was already Peter’s bitch, and it was nice to hear that reaffirmed, even if it was only from the guy I’d been loaned out to. I felt like I’d truly found my place at long last.

“I got him up to four”, Emmerson reported just after the second pulpy load had made its way down my throat, “but I don’t know much about it, or maybe it’s just a bad position. Either way, you should probably take it from here.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Marky! Bitch, bend over the good doctor’s desk for me and we’ll see just how big of a banana you can take with something a bit better than baby oil.”

I unceremoniously stopped sucking Miller’s banana, ignoring his complaints as I did what Peter told me to. “Don’t worry, Doug, you’ll get him again, but not until after I’m done with him.”

“Oh, of course, sir. I understand completely!”, Miller agreed, suddenly eager to please.

“Marky, why don’t you join the boy and bend over your own desk. As much as I know you want to let me hypnotize you at some point, given the charges against me, I think it’s better if I don’t. Still, it might be fun to just relax and listen to my voice for a little while”, Peter suggested.

“Of course, Peter! Anything you say”, Emmerson agreed, joining me in bending over his own desk.

“Doug, since you seem to be missing it already, despite only just having stopped, why don’t you go fuck your bitch’s mouth again for a little bit while I work on him and Marky from the other side. Just like last time, I want you to focus on how good Alejandro makes you feel, but this time, let that feeling go deep inside of you. My little bitch makes you feel good, and it’s hard to hate someone who makes you feel that good”, Peter insisted.

I opened my mouth as Miller offered me his banana once again. Peter started speaking softly to Dr. Emmerson, and even out of the corner of my eye, I could tell he was starting to relax, just like Peter had promised. Smearing a bunch of the cream around Emmerson’s ass, Peter quickly started inserting several fingers inside. For his part, Emmerson lay there, completely dead to the world. I felt Peter putting a banana into my ass as well. This was the first time I’d ever had Peter’s banana in my ass and another banana in my mouth at the same time, and it was heavenly! I’d never imagined I could feel so good.

I had a hard time staying focused on CO Miller’s banana, though. Peter was inserting the biggest banana ever into my butt, somehow managing to do so even as he’d worked his way up to shoving all five of his fingers into Dr. Emmerson’s hole beside me. It wasn’t his entire fist yet, though that’s clearly what he was working towards. Even as he worked at that, I felt a sort of popping sensation or something coming from my own hole as something exceedingly large went all the way in, then my butt tried to close around it and only partially succeeded. “Good boy, Ally. I knew you could take an entire fist—…—ful of bananas. I’m going to have a lot of fun with you the next few days! Now, let’s see if I can get Marky here to the same place.”

Well, at least that explained why my ass felt so abused. If there were multiple bananas in there, it was bound to feel pretty full. I was panting with the effort of taking them all, but I tried to do my best, and Miller kept demanding my attention with his banana as well. “Just relax, Alejandro. You feel nothing”, Peter soothed. I couldn’t quite agree with him, because I definitely felt something, but his reassurance certainly helped ease my difficulties.

“How are you doing, Doug? You feeling pretty good now?”, Peter asked as he continued to work the psychologist’s asshole.

“Mmmm…yeah. Bitch took a third load from me a few minutes ago. I haven’t cum this many times so close together since I was a teenager. I love fucking a bitch’s mouth! Still wish I could have her…his…whatever, I still wish I could have a bitch’s ass, though”, Miller said hopefully.

“Soon, Doug. Just let me get all the way into both of them, if I can. I’ve never fisted two guys at once before, and the fact that I’m doing it in here of all places, with a guard participating, is turning me on like you wouldn’t believe!”, Peter laughed. “Not sure if this one’s going to be able to do it, though. Even under the best circumstances, a lot of guys can’t take it all the way in on their first try.”

“Never really knew much about fisting beyond the definition until now, but if it’s half as much fun as taking a bitch, I can see why you like it”, Miller said, still thrusting his banana into me, though he was taking it very slowly.

I could feel Peter’s fistful of bananas moving around inside of me, pushing deeper then pulling out again. A couple of times, it felt like he removed the entire bunch and reinserted them, but it wasn’t anywhere near as hard for me to take as it had been that first time, and his reassuring voice as spoke to both me and Dr. Emmerson helped as well. Since that was no longer such an overwhelming distraction, I focused back on Miller’s banana instead. It seemed to be going slightly limp now, probably from how much I’d been sucking it. I was amazed at how long these bananas lasted in my mouth compared to the bananas I sometimes got from the kitchen.

Suddenly, next to me, Dr. Emmerson moaned, and then sighed as if some tension had been building up and finally found release. He whimpered and settled his head on the desk like he was having a pleasant dream.

“Doug, come around here and figure out a way to get your mouth on my cock somehow.” In the small amount of space, I wasn’t sure how that was going to be possible, but it’d be amusing to watch Miller try.

“But…it was inside me earlier!”, Miller complained.

“Yes, I know. But what do you do when the warden gives you an order, boy?”, Peter demanded.

“Obey, sir”, Miller replied sullenly, making his way around the desk.

“Just relax, Doug. You’ve been trained to obey, it makes you feel good when you obey, especially the warden!”, Peter reminded him. He repeated himself a few more times until the CO was comfortably settled in and sucking Peter’s cock. He had to curl himself around in a hunched position across Peter’s leg, but he managed it.

Despite CO Miller’s willingness, it was an awkward position for both him and Peter in such a cramped space, so they didn’t stay at it for very long. Once they were done, I had the pleasure of servicing the CO’s banana with my ass and watching his entire face change as Peter continually reminded him of how good I made him feel. The CO’s banana had been a bit spongy at first, but Peter’s coaxing had somehow made the banana firm up.

Peter himself, meanwhile, was fucking the psychologist for the most part, though he kept moving in a circle around the desk, occasionally fucking the counsellor or letting me enjoy getting a banana in both ends from time to time. I was pretty sure he fucked Miller again too at one point, but by then, the psychologist had woken up again and I was tasting his banana as well, as was my place. It was just an orgy of gay sex among the three men, and bananas going in both my holes.

In a supreme finale, Peter asked us all to line up in front of the desk and he moved from one to the next to the next repeatedly, helping himself to each of our asses with whatever he felt like—fingers, cock or, ever respectful of the fact that I was straight, a banana. It was absolutely glorious and made me feel astoundingly fulfilled to be nothing more than one hole among many for him to put his banana into. I even splattered my load across Dr. Emmerson’s desk as Peter filled me, falling into a deep and pleasant slumber shortly thereafter.

When I awoke from my nap, I was surprised to see that we’d been in Dr. Emmerson’s office for nearly two hours. Apparently, the others had just let me sleep the whole time. Dr. Emmerson, CO Miller, and I were all kneeling at Peter’s feet. Dr. Emmerson was busy cleaning something off Peter’s hands, mostly using a towel, but also licking some of it off with his mouth.

“So, how are you feeling about Alejandro now, Doug?”, Peter asked. The two of us looked at each other warmly. I had no idea what had changed between us, but something definitely had!

“I don’t think there’ll be any further issues between us, will there b— errr…Alejandro?”, CO Miller said tentatively. For a moment, I’d thought he was going to call me “bitch”, and maybe he had been. It felt…normal, even comfortable, that he would do so. But, given our newly repaired relationship, it was probably better that he didn’t, at least for now. There’d be time enough to figure out what to call each other later if we kept getting along well.

“No, sir, there won’t”, I replied just as warmly as CO Miller had.

“Alright. I’m getting hungry, and there’s probably not much time left to get down to the dining hall. Just before we go, Doug, can we talk for a minute? I want you to take that bottle of moisturizer and put it in your pocket. When we get back to the cell, as long as nobody’s looking, you’ll take it out again and leave it with me. It will seem like a completely normal thing to do—so trivial, in fact, that you’ll quickly forget ever having done it”, Peter informed the CO.

“Whatever you say, Peter!”, Miller agreed, grabbing the moisturizer off of Dr. Emmerson’s desk.

“I really have to say, Dr. Rhodes, your technique is impressive! For the life of me, I can’t remember what you did, and I really wish I could. I’ve never seen two people who got along so poorly change their views so quickly. If I had a hat, it would be off to you. You’re the most brilliant and the most talented psychologist I’ve ever met!”, Dr. Emmerson gushed.

“Why thank you, Marky. On that note, though…Doug, Marky, can we talk for a minute? From now on, regardless of how much you trust and respect me, I want the two of you to treat me like any other inmate if anyone else is around. I know the two of you are both scheduled to testify as to how I’ve behaved here in prison, and it would probably hurt my defense if the two of you are as effusive as you normally are around me.”

“Eff…what?”, CO Miller asked.

“He means we shouldn’t gush about how much better he is than either of us. We have to pretend like he’s just some guy that we don’t really know and never wanted to know beyond what we needed to in order to testify”, Dr. Emmerson explained.

“Exactly right, Dr. Emmerson. Top marks!”, Peter chuckled.

“Oh, okay. I suppose I can do that”, Miller agreed.

“Just to be sure, why don’t you stop by the cell at least one more time whenever you can get away without being noticed”, Peter suggested. “Same for you, Ma— Dr. Emmerson…I have to get used to calling you that! Obviously don’t drop by my cell, but arrange to have me here at least once more before my trial.”

“Certainly, Dr. Rhodes!”

“It’s been good talking to both of you. Now, shall we head out? For some reason, I feel the need to wash my hands before lunch, so I guess you’d better take us back to our cell before escorting us to the dining hall”, Peter suggested.

Over the next few days, thanks to the “moisturizer” that Dr. Emmerson and CO Miller had smuggled into our cell, Peter and I shared fistfuls of bananas every night, and I truly came to understand and appreciate my place. When CO Miller dropped by our cell like Peter had asked him to, I not only gave his banana another quick lick, but the two of us agreed to keep it up, even if Peter was declared innocent. CO Miller liked secretly having a bitch and I really liked being one.

The next morning, Peter left my cell for the final time, heading for his trial. I never heard the verdict directly, but when a CO came later in the day to pick up Peter’s stuff, it was clear what the verdict had been. Peter was a free man now, and I’d have to break in a whole new cellie. I’d have to make sure it wasn’t one of the gay guys, just so I didn’t get a reputation, but after my experience with Peter, I was definitely going to be nicer to them as a whole. Besides, I was pretty sure CO Miller wanted me all for himself. He struck me as the jealous type, and I suspected he’d make certain that the only banana I ever got from now on was his.