This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. It's copyrighted 2020 by The Jordan Project, all rights reserved outside of Nifty. The reader comes first, so I live for feedback. Please take some time to provide it to JordanProject@protonmail.com. What worked? What didn't work?
Keep this great site going and donate to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
A few days later, as he was sweeping the cellbock in preparation for its afternoon scrubbing and mopping, he heard the footsteps of both officers behind him.
"Put your broom aside," the senior officer said. "Someone here to see ya."
The boy had been given the usual morning dose of Correctol, and it was in full effect as they led him down the corridor. They stopped just short of the office, and the junior corrections officer spoke.
"Everything off but your T-shirt," he said. "Just like the other night."
"Yes sir," he answered, as he carried out the order.
"Okay, inside," the junior officer said.
He turned into the office and saw the warden sitting on the couch. He gasped. He was accustomed to being naked, and nearly so, around the corrections officers, but now felt deeply embarrassed. The warden smiled at his discomfort.
"So this is Randall Matthews," he said to the senior officer. "Called 'half buck,' I understand. He's working out, I understand. Is that right, Jake?"
"Yep, Deke and I gettin' him into shape, sir," the corrections officer replied to the warden. It was the first time he'd heard either officer call anyone 'sir,' and it startled Randy. He looked more closely at the warden he'd once disparaged, and saw him in a different light.
The first thing he noticed now was the Man's neck. It was the thickest he'd ever seen, rising out of a white short-sleeved shirt and joining a square head with dark hair on top and sidewalls next to the warden's ears. He looks like Mr. Clean with hair, the boy thought to himself.
The Man's thick forearms, and a steel watch on one of them, caught his eye, along with large, muscular hands that would have served a longshoreman well. His chest was broad and his waist trim. The warden sat with his arms crossed and his legs wide open, the crotch in the pants of his snug-fitting suit only partly concealing what lurked inside.
"So he turned out to be a homosexual after all, Deke?" the warden asked.
"Begged for my dick the second day he was down here, sir," the junior officer said. "Little fella can't help being stiff for Men. Just can't help it. Why don't you tell him what you are and what you're not, Randy?"
The boy felt his dick harden, and spoke.
"I am not a Man, sir," the young inmate said to the warden. "I was never a Man, and will never be a Man, sir. I'm nothin' but a little fella, a little half buck, sir."
"The last time we met, I told you that I've never seen or heard of an inmate being turned homosexual while incarcerated," the warden said. "Those who become that way here always were that way. As for my corrections officers, I only hire married Men, but I do encourage them to use every tool and method at their disposal. I received regular briefings from my Men, and it seems like they handled it with you in a responsible way."
"Yes sir, they did," Randy replied. "Maybe if my father had used his belt when I was younger, I wouldn't be here, sir. I deserved what they gave me and am grateful for it, sir. The corrections officers have showed me my place, sir. Thank you for letting me into the program, sir."
The warden rose from the couch and walked over to a refrigerator in the room and withdraw a can of beer. As he did so, the boy saw the warden's erection outlined in his pants. More than 8 inches long, he figured. The warden returned to the couch, sat down, and spoke.
"I don't have anything against homosexuals, but I don't hire them as officers because their lust would only get in the way of any training," the warden said, fingering his wedding ring. "Anything along those lines is strictly for teaching and reminding you what your place is."
The warden leaned back into the couch. He opened the beer, withdrew a cigar from his shirt pocket, and lit it. Then he patted his hard-on, smiled, and told the boy to get to work. As he knelt in front of the Man, the junior officer leaned down and whispered in his ear, and Randy began to blow softly into the warden's balls while rubbing the stiff log sticking up sideways against his suit pants.
"You and Jake got this one turned the right way, Deke," the warden said, patting the boy's head as he worked. "I knew you fellas could do it."
"It took a while, but he's been coming around," the junior officer replied.
The warden casually instructed the boy to open his fly, get his dick out, and start taking care of it. Moments later, the Man's 8-1/2 inches, thick and cut, pointed straight outward, and Randy began to slather the head with his tongue.
"You fellas could always keep him as your house mouse," the warden said, referring to trusted inmates who kept the facilities clean and attended to the needs of the corrections staff. "Some of the other behavior blocks have them."
"I'm glad ya brought it up, sir," Deke replied. "Randy still needs more trainin', but we been talkin' about keepin' him here at least for a while after that."
"I suppose I don't need to tell you this, but what the heck," the warden said, chuckling. "You and Jake always need to remember that the part of training I'm doing right now isn't about a hard dick. What's in this boy Randy's mouth looks like my dick but it's really my authority.
"He's always got to understand that he's a boy and he's always going to be. Within these walls, every single Man is his superior. Whether you keep him down here or send him upstairs to Robert Dell Warren, little Randy's a boy, and the Men have complete authority. It might look and feel like a hard dick, but using it this way must always be about authority and the Men who have it."
"Yes sir, absolutely," the corrections officer replied. "Easy to get 'em to follow orders. Almost as easy to get 'em doing what he's doing now if they's queer."
"That's right," the warden said, pausing to tell the boy to tighten his mouth and use his hard on the erection. "Every time I see a psych report calling one of 'em half queer I pretty much know."
"Yep, we figured him out right away, sir," the officer said, chuckling.
"As long as he knows that it's not about the tool but why the tool's being used," the warden replied. "This one here's got to get it baked into his brain. Little Randy here is clever, but not very smart to wind up in here. If you fellas keep him down here, one of you needs to become his new father, his new dad. He needs a Man to look up to and obey even when no one's looking."
The warden began spurting, and Randy sucked and swallowed. For the first time since entering Banner Creek, he looked forward to the years ahead.
The next night, the junior corrections officer entered the boy's cell. He set a tube of lubricant on the floor next to the bed, stripped to his t-shirt and underwear, and curled around the boy. Spontaneously, Randy began sucking the officer's thumb. He began to weep, softly at first, and then harder. Soon, his body shook with sobs.
"Sir, you have saved my life," the boy whispered. "I am so grateful for what you have shown me, sir, but I'm still afraid."
"What are you afraid of, little fella?" the officer asked gently. "Look me in the eye and tell me."
"You've shown me that I am not a Man and that I never could be a Man, sir," the inmate replied. "I think I know what not to be, but I am afraid that I don't know how to be the boy I should be. Sir, can you show me the way? I feel so lost!"
The officer turned the boy onto his back and gently spread his legs and softly stroked his little balls.
"Ya need a new dad just like the warden said," the officer told the boy. "That's what yer gonna have here, as long as ya know yer place. These balls I'm holdin', they don't belong to ya. And they ain't gonna belong to no one upstairs. We've decided ya will be stayin' down here with us."
The boy's eyes opened widely, and a look of rapture spread across his face.
"You're going to ... to ... be my dad, sir?" he asked.
"That's what I been thinkin', little Randy fella," the officer told him. "I been takin' a likin' to ya, little half buck. I'm thinkin' a-keepin' ya down here to be my boy."
"Would you really do that, sir?" the boy asked. "After everything I've done?"
"Long as ya understand how it'll be workin' here," the officer said. "It ain't really about takin' care a-my dick, it's about showin' me that ya know who every single part of ya belongs to, includin' up here."
The officer was tapping the boy's head.
"That's the most important part a ya," the officer said. "Yer gonna need to give me yer dreams. It's the only way I can show ya how to be the boy we both know ya want ta be."
"Yes sir!" the boy said. "I'll try so hard, sir. Please help me! I'll do anything, sir. Anything!"
The officer chuckled affectionately, and rubbed the boy's head.
"I know, little Randy fella, I know ya will do anything. I'll make real sure a that," he said, smiling. "But that won't be enough. I'm gonna teach ya how to quit thinkin' like a caged Man and start thinkin' like a boy who only wants to make his dad happy."
"That's all I want, sir," the boy replied. "Thank you, dad. Can I call you dad, sir?"
"Sure, son, but don't ya forget your 'Yes sir' and yer 'No sir,' " the officer said, guiding the boy's hand toward the massive, rock-hard bulge in his tight boxer shorts. Then the Man hauled out his erection, retrieved the lubricant and handed it to the boy, whose small penis had not become erect because the officer had not given the command.
"Slick yerself up, then me," he said, and then eased himself inside.
"There's only one pecker between us that you ever ought ta be thinkin' about, and it's the one yer feelin' up yer backside," the officer said, rocking steadily deeper and through the boy's inner ring.
"Is that why I'm not hard, sir?" the boy asked, aware that the officer controlled that part of him.
"That's right, Randy," the corrections officer replied. "From now on, yer equipment's gonna be in a little cage that'll keep ya from bein' able to touch yerself. It'll be much safer that way. It'll keep me from havin' ta geld ya fer makin' a mistake in yer sleep. It's very dangerous fer a little fella to be able to touch his little pecker at will, especially when he's a queer little guy."
"Really?" the boy asked. "You would do that for me, dad?"
"You bet," the officer answered. "After we're done tonight, I'll fit it onto ya and it'll be your protection. You'll be knowin' that yer dad is lookin' after ya all the time, and he'll know that yer mind's right even when he's workin' and don't have the time to watch ya."
"Thank you so much, sir!" the boy exclaimed. "Dad, that's the best!"
AUTHOR'S AFTERWORDS
I have gotten some interesting feedback to the first chapters of this story, and am thinking of adding another chapter discussing this story and my attitudes toward writing in general, especially fiction, and porn writing specifically. I'm not sure that I'll do it, partly because I don't want to leave an impression of arrogance. This will be dictated by ongoing feedback. If I decide to go there, there'll be an eighth chapter. We shall see.
This is my first published fiction of any kind. I genuinely thank those who've offered their thoughts and their intelligent critiques. I hope my readers have had as much fun and hardons as I did when I wrote this quaint little tale!