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KNOCKED OFF HIS PERCH - Part 3
Greg was sitting on the bench with his head down. He was too ashamed to look at any of his cell mates and certainly did not want to look at the big man. Out of the quiet, he heard his name called and jumped up to greet the officer who was walking toward him. The door was opened, and Greg was ordered to follow the man down the hall and into a room. The officer was shocked at Greg's appearance. He remembered when Greg was checked in and this was not the same person. Greg's previously meticulous hair was now dirty, crusty, and askew. His bearded stubble was not attractive. The dark circles under his eyes were from not sleeping. He was covered in bruises all over his body and had some large nasty hickeys on his neck. He couldn't help noticing how slowly Greg walked and how gently he sat down in the chair. This dirty and stinky man was not the same athletic and overconfident stud that they had checked in two days ago.
Greg was face to face with his public defender, the assistant DA, and one of the officers. The assistant DA told Greg that prostitution was a tough charge and that the Judge would surely convict. Greg screamed at him that he was not charged with prostitution, his accusations were all white-collar crimes. The asst DA laughed and told Greg that based on his appearance right now, it would be very easy to add those charges which would surely bring him more jail time. He laughed some more and told him that his queer ass would probably enjoy that. Greg replied, "NO, NO . . . you can't do that to me. I'm innocent."
The asst DA explained that there was a way to avoid that from happening. In fact, he was willing to get the bond waived and Greg could be immediately released if he wanted. All he had to do was to comply with a few simple instructions. Greg was apprehensive but eventually concluded that anything would be better than another night in this hell hole. He agreed to the terms.
The asst DA told him to stand and remove his shirt. Greg could not believe that these men were interested in seeing his bare chest. Everyone in the room could not help but notice the bruises and markings on his body. Removing his clothes was getting routine for Greg and he was really getting tired of it. Someone commented that he must have had a really bad night. He was ordered to remove his pants and the dried cum on his ass and leg was undeniable. Greg was standing before a group of straight men completely naked. He could not believe that that were all intently staring at his body.
To the men in the room, Greg was a real trophy. He was a grade A piece of fresh meat. Other than this recent time in jail, they correctly surmised that Greg's mouth and ass had never been used. This would be so much better that the male street trash and junkie whores that they were used to fucking.
Greg was ordered up on the table and pulled into position. The asst DA took first shot. He pulled Greg's legs in the air and fucked him hard. He could not help but notice that Greg's ass was not that tight. It took him a while, but he came, pulled out, and shot his load all over Greg's chest and arms. The lawyer was second. Before Greg could catch his breath, he was getting fucked again. While Greg was getting fucked, he noticed that the officer had opened his pants and was stroking his cock while watching the proceedings. He was getting it hard for Greg's third penetration. He wasted no time and quickly shoved his cock into Greg's nasty man pussy. The officer never had time to pull out and pumped his load into Greg's gut.
The door opened, a couple men left the room and several others entered. Someone dropped a pink pill in Greg's mouth which sent his head spinning. Greg was rolled into position where he could give a blow job while getting fucked. Someone else was stroking Greg's cock and playing with his nipples. Someone jacked Greg's throbbing tool until he sprayed all over himself. Greg's feelings alternated between pain and pleasure. Officers continued to leave the room and others entered. The line never had less than two men waiting. Some dumped their load in his ass, others had more fun spraying him in the face and chest. Every bone in Greg's body was aching, now worse than ever. He was numb from the pain and struggled to walk. He was a hot, sweaty, and sticky mess. His mind was cloudy from the drugs.
Greg was near passing out when someone took a bottle of water and dumped it over his head. This shook him into reality. He was allowed to catch his breath and then dragged into another room and told that he would be free to go after signing a few forms. The first form was a non-disclosure agreement preventing him from discussing his time in jail. Other forms negotiated his release per their agreement. One of the officers said that he would retrieve his belongings.
After an extremely long wait, the officer returned with a grim look on his face. Something had happened, he could not explain it. Nobody knew how it happened, but Greg's clothes and personal possessions had been lost including his wallet with his id and all his cash. The bin with his stuff was empty. Greg could check back in 24 hours to see if his stuff had been located or was welcome to fill out some more forms. Greg was devastated and wondered how this nightmare experience could get any worse. He remembered seeing the sheriff strutting around wearing his clothes. He looked down at the orange clothes he was wearing and started to panic. The officer told Greg to hold on and left the room. He returned a short time later and handed some clothes to Greg. He could use these for the time being.
Greg eagerly stripped down and picked up the tee shirt. He was shocked as he examined the dirty and well-worn garment. The sleeve was ripped and across the front in big letters it said, "EL SALVADOR". The worst part was that it was a size medium and Greg wore an extra-large. He looked at the officer who replied that was all the he could find. It was that or nothing. Greg pulled it over his head and squeezed into the shirt which didn't even cover his belly button. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible and dismissed it. Unfortunately, the jeans were equally small. Greg tried to squeeze into them but was unable to keep the button hooked which meant that the zipper would not stay up. There was a large hole in the seat which left his ass cheek exposed because he had no underwear. Since there was no belt, he would have to find something to hold them together. They were so short that the tops of his ankles were exposed. He looked down at his bare feet and the officer just shrugged. Greg decided to put the white socks and plastic slippers back on. The officer told him that unfortunately, they were not allowed to leave the jail. Greg was upset but really wanted to get out of there. After consultation the officers relented and allowed him to wear the socks and slippers. It's a good thing there were no mirrors in the room because Greg was one hot mess. The man who took a lot of pride and put a lot of time and attention into his appearance and dress now looked (and smelled) like a homeless man on the street.
He eagerly called Melanie to come pick him up. She screamed at him to stop calling her. She told Greg that she had gotten a restraining order to keep him away. She did not want to see him or hear from him again. She demanded that he stop calling and hung up. It really was over, and Greg was devastated. After the freaky events that he had experienced, he needed the warm touch of his girlfriend to remind him that he was a straight Alpha male, and now she had just kicked him to curb. The shock and pain hurt.
He decided to call his best friend Steve who agreed to pick him up. Greg walked to the street corner where they agreed to meet. He waited and waited, and while he felt out of place standing on the corner, he really looked like he belonged there. Several cars slowed down to look at him, he received a couple whistles and several offers to party.
Greg told them hell no, to get fucked, or just plain flipped them off. He could not understand why so many men were hitting on him. Steve finally rolled up in his BMW, hopped out and ran up to Greg. He couldn't believe what he was looking at and screamed, "Holy Shit, what happened to you". This was not the good-looking stud of a man that was best man at his wedding. Steve had always been jealous of Greg's good looks. Now he was a dirty street bum, that smelled like a sewer and looked like he belonged in an alley. His crusty hair had not been combed in three days, he had a scruffy beard, black eye, and dark bruises. Steve walked up close and examined the hickeys on his neck. He continued screaming, "They've turned you into a faggot." Greg cried out, "No. It's me, Greg. You're best friend. We're golfing buddies". Steve continued to call him a "Fucking Fag" and "Street Whore". Steve accused Greg of enjoying his time in jail and Greg continued to deny. He asked Greg why was he dressed like a fairy queen. Greg was not strong enough to defend himself and Steve easily pulled his jeans to his ankles and spun him around. He pointed to Greg's abused ass with dried cum on it and screamed that Greg was a lying homo. His abused and gaping hole confirmed it. Greg was nothing but a fucking butt hugger. He slapped Greg around until he started crying. He told Greg that he was not man enough to polish his boots as Greg groveled at his feet. He screamed at Greg to get the fuck away from him as he used his booted foot to kick Greg in the face. He turned and walked back to his car, laughing out loud, he couldn't believe that the once mighty and powerful Greg was a homo - nothing more than street trash. He couldn't wait to tell Melanie and all his friends.
What a jolt. Greg was starting to panic. He quickly pulled up his pants as best he could and was trying to come up with a plan. His brain seemed to be working at the slowest possible speed. Greg's take charge personality, quick wit, and ability to take command of any situation was now failing him. He was on the verge of a breakdown. No cell phone, no wallet, no cash, barely any clothes, nowhere to go, and no one to call. He was angry for allowing himself to get into this position, he was mad at his ex-girlfriend and mad at his best friend for leaving him. He was pissed at his bookkeeper. He was going to sue the jail for the treatment he received. He was outraged at the entire world. He was a young professional executive - he did not deserve the way he was being treated. . From standing on top of the world, to being totally debased and emasculated, it was a tremendous fall from grace.
He stood there cold and alone. His face was throbbing with pain and his entire body was still sore from the abuse. His chest hurt, he walked with a limp, he could feel the cool breeze as he struggled to keep his pants up. There was no doubt that Greg was a man of the street.
He hadn't eaten anything in several days and his stomach was growling with hunger. The aroma of cooked bacon was coming from a nearby greasy spoon diner. Greg hypnotically walked in that direction with no plan for how he was going to pay for something to eat. He was still in a daze as he approached the door and was jolted back to reality when the door opened, and two people stumbled out.
Mother Fucker! It was the sheriff still dressed in Greg's suit. Wearing his tie, his cuff links, his shoes, his watch. With him was one of the neighborhoods trashiest hookers, dressed appropriately in a micro short skirt, high heels, and fake fur blouse. Greg couldn't believe what he was looking at. He decided to approach the sheriff and demand an explanation. Before he could open his mouth, the sheriff looked at him and said, "Another Fuckin Bum". He looked at Greg and immediately recognized the jail issued socks and sandals. Greg went to argue with him, and the sheriff said, "Ok buddy, "I'll help you this one last time". He reached in his pocket and pulled out Greg's money clip with the wad of cash. He fished out 2 one-dollar bills and shoved them in Greg's hand telling him, "Now get the fuck out of here." Greg could not process what he was seeing. His clothes, his money. This was unbelievable. He lunged towards the Sherriff to check out his clothes, and the Sheriff easily threw him to the ground. He told Greg to watch his step or he would be headed back to jail.
They walked away leaving Greg on the ground. Observers nearby assumed that Greg was having mental issues and offered to call 911. As Greg picked himself up off the sidewalk, he went bull shit crazy when he watched them get into his prized Jaguar and drive off. The observers went running down the street in the other direction leaving Greg near naked and helpless.