Prisoner C0C5UK3R 69

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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