Piedmont Penitentiary is an old turn of the century prison nick named "The HOLE" on the outskirts of Philadelphia in the Valley Forge section of Pennsylvania, which was built to hold up to 500 convicted inmates. Today it holds nearly 1500, 3 times it's intended population. Over crowding means there are 2 to 3 men or more per cell, which was originally built to house just one. The plumbing is old and rusted, the walls are crumbly, the foundation is corroded, and morale is low. Inmates and Officers complain of conditions, but more complaints are lost to the board of directors. Politicians that look to line their pockets before updating repairs for inmates, run the board. No one cares if convicted criminals complain about "unfair" living conditions. They were incarcerated for punishment, not comfort. Most tax payers see them as animals that need to be locked up off the streets. They are forgotten and unwanted members of society, -the scary and depraved. Whatever happens to them behind bars is more than likely deserved!
The HOLE/13 IMPLICATIONS
The news of Tempest Williams' escape from federal capture spread across the airwaves like wildfire. Hospital security, Philadelphia PD, as well as prison officials faced inquiries for Tempest's escape. Followers of Tempest in the prison's TV room cheered when the news hit the air. Tempest was on American's Most Wanted list, a convicted fugitive with the means and the contacts to be anywhere underground. Neighborhoods Tempest was known to frequent and rule were shut down and searched for his whereabouts, with no results. Additional drug dealers and female impersonating prostitutes were rounded up and arrested, and questioned about Tempest's contacts. Nothing the police did brought for the desired results they sought. When questioned by reporters about the mishandling of police and prison officials alike, Captain David L. McConnell had this to say; "We at Precinct-23 are saddened to hear of mr Williams' escape from custody, especially after all the hard work from our undercover agents in obtaining him. But we will aid Piedmont Penitentiary, as well as the FBI, in finding and locating mr Williams before he gets any further, or is able to spread anymore of his poisons on the streets of Philadelphia. Thank you."
Pt-1 Piedmont Penitentiary...
"The mother fucker is still alive? I thought he was DEAD!" said Sarge, head of the Aryans at Piedmont.
"An obvious deception! We weren't informed correctly!" said Hammer, watching the broadcast from their own cell block.
"We had that black mother fucker down on the ground, -bleeding! How the fuck did he survive?!" asked Snake, recalling the incident vividly.
"Fucker his nine lives!" said Gardner, aka Terminator, -former police offer, now convict. "Do you have any idea how many cops, dealers, undercover agents, and convicts have tried to kill that black mother fucker? Yet still he keeps popping up, like a new breed of cockroach! You never had a chance of killing him..., cause Tempest isn't afraid of death!"
"Who're you..., captain of the Tempest fucking Williams fan club?" asked Snake, getting a snicker or two from his Aryan brethren.
"No..., but I'm a man who learns from his mistakes. You fuck with Tempest Williams..., he fucks you back, -harder! Deeper! Stronger!"
"What can he do to us? We're in here, and he's out there?" asked Hammer, curiously.
"Your families are out there..., your wives, your children, your sons, daughters, parents, grandparents..., -do you really think Tempest is going to just let you do what you did to him, and just walk away? I doubt it!"
The Aryans all looked around at each other with concern, the faces of their closest friends and families flashing in their minds.
"That black fucker can go after my trailer trash family all he fucking wants! Save me the fucking trouble, later!" joked Snake, not really concerned. But Hammer, Sarge, and Luke looked concerned. In fact, they started to make provisions to call home to warn their family members of impending danger. -Which was exactly what Gardner wanted.
"That ought to put a fire up under their asses!" he said, returning to his cell with his fellow cellmates, -Alan Cooper and Donald Blake.
"Exactly how is warning their families of Tempest supposed to help us in the long run?" asked Blake, still in the dark as far as Gardner's over all plans.
"It's a distraction..., if they're worried about what's going on -on the outside, they're less inclined to know what's happening right up under their noses! And when they slip up and make mistakes, -we'll be there to make sure that they are fatal ones!" smiled Gardner.
Pt-2 "Who fucked you, David? Who did this to you?" asked Raul, fuming over thoughts of his little brother being gang banged by convicts. "Tell me who it was, so I can fucking MURDER them!!"
"Calm down, Raul...!" insisted David, regretting the decision to let Genuwine and his boiz fuck him.
"Calm down? Calm down?? After I just heard some mollies just butt fucked my baby brother??! Are you fucking crazy!? I', going insane right now!! Who was it??! I wanna know who it was!!" screamed Raul, losing his mind.
"It's not like that, Ra'..., it's not what you think...!" said David, trying to defuse the situation.
"What the fuck'r you saying?" asked Raul, confused.
"Were you raped, or weren't you?" asked Alex, calmer than Raul.
David looked at the both of them, tears forming in his eyes.
"No..., I wasn't raped." he admitted, much to Alex's relief and dismay.
Alex dropped his head in despair and disappointment as he turned to walk out of the Rodriguez cell. "No, Alex..., don't go! Please!" yelled David, grabbing Alex by the arm. Alex pulled away, not wanting to face his lover at the moment. Raul looked on in confusion.
"What the fuck is going on here?" he asked, watching the 2 men go through the motions.
"I'm sorry, Alex! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! It didn't mean anything! I swear!!" pleaded David.
"Let go of me!" yelled Alex, pulling away more forcefully.
"What's going on?" asked Raul, lost.
"Alex please...!?" begged David, pulling harder.
Raul got between the 2 men, pulling them both apart while holding onto the both of them.
"What the fuck is the problem, here?!!" he asked again, in a serious tone. Both David and Alex looked at Raul, then at each other. Alex then turned away, unable to look David in the face.
"I...I cheated on Alex..., with Genuwine." he admitted.
"The fucking singer?" asked Raul.
"No..., the drug dealer..., a Mandingo!" answered David.
Raul's mind played an automatic rewind as he thought of the names of the Mandingos. Once he realized what his brother had just admitted to, a rage swelled up in Raul that David was only too familiar with. Raul let go of Alex, and clocked his younger brother dead across the face, knocking him instantly to the ground in a fit of anger.
"Raul..., don't...!!" called Alex, pulling at the older brothers as he raised his fist to hit him again.
"You fucking whore!" he yelled, kicking David in the thigh as Alex pulled him away. "After all the shit I've done for you! After all the fucking covering up I did! Even getting Alex involved! You fucking faggot!!"
Carlos and his boiz; Neko and Pablo ran in to help. They saw Alex fighting with Raul and instinctively jumped on Alex's case. When Carlos saw who the intended target was when Raul started flaring on their younger brother David, he stood in shock.
"I'm sorry, Raul! I'm sorry!" cried David, balling himself up in a protective shell as his brother wailed away on him. Eventually Raul stopped beating David, and ran from the cell in anger and disgust. Alex lay on the floor at the feet of Carlos' men, he and David staring into each other's eyes for the briefest of moments before Alex too got up and left. David crumbled to the floor, crying in his own sweat and tears.
Pt-3
Christopher Gardner now belonged to the Mandingos. He and Nakia Dawson worked the black cell blocks of Piedmont Penitentiary as "working girls" for Duke. Their den mother, and tranny by the name of "Swallow", made them up in hair and tight fitted dresses she made of her own hands. She taught the men how to become ladies, teaching them how to be more demure, and aloof, to entice the men into wanting them for their mystique. "You can catch more bees with honey than shit, girlfriends, believe that!" –she'd often tell them.
The men learned how to walk and talk in a feminine manner. For Nakia it was harder, having never seen himself in such an unmanly demeanor. But for Chris Gardner, it was like riding an old bicycle he once had as a child. The instant he walked out of the Den Mother's cell, he was transformed into Chelsea, the `white bread' bitch. For Chelsea, there was no shortage of black dick looking to fuck her pink delicious holes. She spent more time on her hands and knees, getting fucked front and back, with the occasional double fuck from cellmates willing to pay for a triple special. High on drugs, she performed like a true vixen, sucking and fucking every dick placed before or behind her with vigor. Duke would often flaunt Chelsea in front of her father Bruce Gardner, and the Aryan brotherhood, knowing they would hate the idea of a white man giving up his holes solely for black dick. But what they didn't know was that Christopher was there in their cell block, because of his father. Bruce had arranged to have Chris moved there, to keep him alive form the sure death the Aryans had been planning for him.
Nakia Dawson didn't find the transformation as easy to assimilate. He still held onto his lost manhood, remembering his life outside the prison walls. He remembered women, and love, and sex with females. He recalled being the man, being on top, and enjoying a soft body beneath him. Now he had to contend with men looking at him as that soft body, wanting to fuck him like he had fucked women.
But as hard as Nakia found it to assimilate into his womanhood, he also found it happening nevertheless. With every new dick plunged into his aching "pussy", he found getting fucked becoming more and more easy. Most of the men treated him (and Chelsea) like trash, paid whores to dump their unwanted cum loads in. But occasionally he found a man that would treat him like a true lady, making love to his body rather than merely fucking him. Nowhere was this account more noticeable than with the Muslim Amahd.
Amahd always arranged for Nakia to come while his cellmate was out. He'd have candles burning, making the scene romantic. He'd have soft music playing on his old radio to lighten the mood and help them forget their surroundings. Sometimes he'd massage Nakia, soothing her aching muscles after a long day of fucking strangers. Then he'd kiss her all over her back and neck, taking the time to tell her how lovely she looked and how hard he was for her. Nakia found himself wanting to get Amahd off, wanting to do a good job to please him for his kindness. After being dogged out by many of the men fucking him, having someone take the time to be gentle, was like being reminded he was still human.
After time, Nakia found himself wanting Amahd. He missed him on days or weeks they didn't see each other sexually. He'd often imagine Amahd while getting fucked by other inmates, it helped him to cope with what was happening to believe that there was someone here who really cared about him, even only if imaginary.
On this particular day, Amahd had been planning on Nakia's visit to his cell for days. He arranged to have his cellmate out of the way while he prepared for his lady friend. In the Muslim religion, such practices are discouraged and frowned upon, but Amahd believed desperate times caused for desperate measures. When Nakia came into his cell, she was wearing a tight red dress, and a long black wig. Amahd's dick swelled instantly.
"Damn, you look pretty!" said Amahd, turning on the radio and finding a smooth jazz station to compensate for the noises in the background of the prison.
Nakia blushed, then came into the cell. Duke had always arranged all of Nakia's meetings, receiving payment upfront before services were rendered. Nakia never knew what any inmate paid to fuck him, a pack of cigarettes? Money? Gum? Favors? Nothing at all?
He sat on Amahd's bed while the Muslim poured them something to drink, "moonshine" made from one of the white inmates whom had a claim. Nakia found the alcohol (made from old pickle juice from the kitchen) quite good for bootleg. One could easily get intoxicated from the concoction (as was many of the Aryans who drank it often).
Amahd always started off tenderly, kissing, nibbling, touching, caressing, -making Nakia feel like a woman, despite his discomfort at playing the female role. Duke made Swallow (the Den Mother) beat femininity into Nakia's head. He wanted her to forget she ever had a penis, and concentrate solely on using her ass and mouth for pleasure and gratification. While Nakia got little use out of his dick with inmates (besides the occasional jack off while getting fucked), he always sprung a hardon while performing for Amahd. Even such a demeaning task as sucking the straight man's dick, got Nakia unusually hard as Amahd would often caress her face and hair, staring down into her brown eyes while she sucked him to full stiffness. Then Amahd would settle her on her back or stomach, and eat her plump pussy before fucking her. Nakia had never experienced having his ass ate until Amahd surprised her one day after washing away the left over semen from her clogged hole. He bathed her in his cell's sink before putting his face down between her legs and licking her swollen twat. Ever since, Nakia makes sure she cleans herself well (thanks to madam Swallow and her douche techniques) before heading over to Amahd's cell for sex.
Amahd is a tall, dark, average attractive man with a medium to large build. At 6-4, he is no push over, and his gentleness always seemed to surprise Nakia. As a free man he loved women, and eating pussy had always been one of his delights. The moment he saw Nakia walk into the cafeteria fully dressed as a she/male (in chap-9), Amahd knew he had to have her. He remembers trying to look unaffected as Duke paraded the man around the room, showing off his fat ass to hungry customers. Muhammad, Abdul, and other Muslims sat together at their own table, ignoring the wild cheers going on around them. Muhammad made some endearing speech about "staying strong and unrelenting through adversities", and not "giving in to the temptations" around them. But Amahd's dick grew rock hard under that table as he caught glimpses of Nakia's backside on display.
Now he licked his full lips and buried his face between the man's ass cheeks, licking and sucking at the fat quivering hole which had given him so much pleasure since. Nakia lay back in bed, his legs spread to reveal his anal ring to his inmate lover. He tried to stifle moans and grunts as Amahd's tongue drilled into his asshole, making him relax and enjoy what was about to come next.
Amahd knew their time was always limited. His cellmate would be due to return soon, and he knew Duke would have other inmates waiting to use Nakia's body. He'd kiss his way up her flat stomach or back (ignoring her dripping dick), and stick his fat tongue into her mouth as he slid his dick into her wet cave. Nakia would gasp aloud as his dick moved into her, wedging its way deep inside her cove.
Amahd would then fuck Nakia in which ever position he chose, starting off slowly to allow her anal muscles to get used to the fat girth of his dick. Once he felt her male-vagina relax and accept him, he'd start to fuck harder, feeding her more and more of his thick sausage. Nakia would grunt and groan in delight, loving the experience more than others. While Amahd would be busy sucking Nakia's neck from behind, or deep kissing her face to face, Nakia's neglected dick would throb uncontrollably, reacting to his constant stimulations. Usually she'd cum (without touching herself), bursting a heavy dose of cream across her stomach or on his bed sheets while he rode her hard and steadily. Amahd loved it when she did that, as it meant he did his job well and she'd always want to come back for more. It was only after he'd watch her cum, that he would concentrate on his own orgasm, fucking her harder until he felt his dick start to strain and hose her insides with a large dose of cum.
After the service, Amahd would gather his strength and pull out of her. He'd gently clean her wet pussy with a warm cloth, before helping her dress and escorting her out of his cell. Nakia would walk down the cell block, his body tingling all over from the amazing sex he'd just experienced as his asshole dribbled remnants of Amahd's love. It was during those times (after a good fucking) that inmates noticed the switch in his step as he wandered down to his next appointment.
Pt-4
A new inmate to arrive to Piedmont was an asian (Vietnamese descent) by the name of Phi Bui. His grandparents were victims of the Vietnam War, who migrated to the United States to find better lives for themselves. Their daughter (Ju Bui) got involved with a man who set her up a job working in a massage parlor. It was there that his mother became a prostitute, and impregnated 4 times by clients. Phi Bui never knew who his biological father was, but was raised by Ju's parents in one of the poorest sections of Philly with his siblings. It was there that he got involved in gangs and dope dealing with the other minorities of his hood. With an asian look and an american background, Phi Bui quickly became one of the most ruthless kids in his neighborhood. Involved in drive-bys, robberies, assaults, break-ins, theft, grand larceny, -he was finally convicted at the age of 18 and sentenced to no less than 5 yrs in jail at Piedmont Penitentiary.
Having heard horror stories about prison life, Phi Bui knew he would be an outsider looking in. With most correctional institutes broken up into black, white, and hispanic populace, Phi knew he'd be the odd man out with nobody backing him up. He'd have to work twice as hard to prove himself to inmates who would try to "punk" him first time out. And without his neighborhood homboiz to help him out, he knew the odds weren't in his favor.
At only 5-7 and 130 lbs, he was a petite stature. Most all of the other men in his group were taller, bigger, and thicker than he. But Phi was used to being the smallest in class and neighborhood, -it only meant he had to hit harder to gain the respect of his adversaries. Unsure which block to put the asian american, prison officials opted for the Hispanic Block, hoping the transition would be an easier one.
When Phi came walking through the block gates holding his pillow and prison toiletries, he was eyeballed by all the hispanics in his cell block.
"What the fuck is this?" asked one inmate, taking offense to the other minority being hosed with his people. "Yo..., this ain't no garbage block! We don't take left overs!" he yelled to the guard that escorted Phi to his cell.
"Chill out!" said Peachtree (a 43 yr old guard last seen in chap-1). He walked Phi through the prison block, receiving boo's and hisses from disapproving inmates. He was shown his new prison cell, which he was to share with Alex Sanchez. "New fish, Alex..., be nice to him!" said Peachtree, leaving the two alone.
"Sup?" said Alex, still nursing the sore nose he sustained from playing basketball. Phi said nothing as he looked Alex up and down coldly, then turned his back to him to set up his bunk.
"Sup Alex...?" said Raul, stepping into the cell with his brother Carlos, and several members of their Rootboiz posse.
"Nothing much, Raul..., how's David?" asked Alex, concerned.
"He's handlin'..., that's all." said Raul, uninterested in discussing family business. "Who's the new cat?" he asked, nodding towards Phi.
"I dunno. Doesn't want to introduce himself." said Alex, still laying back against his bunk.
"Sup..., I'm Raul." said the oldest Rodriguez, holding out his hand to welcome the newcomer. Phi Bui turned and looked at it, but didn't react. Raul was nearly the same height and weight as Phi, only of Spanish descent. "So you just gonna leave a nigga hanging?" he asked, leaving his hand stretched. Phi looked around at all the tan faces staring back at him, waiting for a reaction.
Slowly he reached out, and grasped Raul's hand in a timid, but friendly handshake.
"I'm Phi." he offered, nothing more.
"Kew." said Ra', pulling back his hand. "Watch your back around here, Phi..., mother fuckers'll fuck you just assume look at you! You need to align yourself with some thorough boiz.., get yourself into a gang. Make peace with the Rootboiz."
"Rootboiz?" asked Phi, sizing up Raul and his men.
"Me and my posse! We run this block! If you need anything, you come to us! Kewl?"
"That's wussup." said Phi, respecting Raul off the bat. Ra and his men turned, and walked back out the way they came, leaving Alex and his new cellmate to themselves. "Who was that?" asked Phi, looking over at Alex as he continued to play with his nose.
"Raul Rodriguez. He and his brothers run this block. He's in with the prison cartel. One of the heads, sort of speak." said Alex.
"And who're you to him?" asked Phi, sensing some connection.
"I'm his brother in-law." he answered rather easily.
"Married to his sister?" asked Phi.
"Something like that." sighed Alex.
"Pt-5
In the prison guard's locker-room, correctional officers change from uniform to street clothes and back. For those going home, it's been a long day of prison fights, routine patrols, and overtime. For those coming into work, it's a long night ahead.
Correctional officer Malik Jones is changing from his street clothes to his uniform, when fellow officer, 22 yr old Andrew Roberts comes in from the showers with a plain white towel wrapped around his trim waist.
"Can't wait to get up outta here...!" excited Roberts, rushing to his locker as he tip-toed across the cold cement floor. "It's not often that I get to work day shift! Gots me a date with a sexy girl tonight!"
"Finally gonna get that little dick of yours laid, eh kid?" laughed Peachtree, putting his weapons up in his locker.
"Something like that!" laughed Roberts, eager to get off. "My mom set up this date with a girl from her church."
"Your mom's your pimp?" laughed officer McGee, slapping on deodorant. "Your CHURCH pimp??"
"Hey..., those church girls make the biggest freaks!" surmised Peachtree, removing his utility-belt. "Where do you think I met my wife?"
"A street corner?" asked McGee, jokingly.
"Let's not talk about wives, Don..., at least my wife don't swing from a pole every night!" countered Peachtree.
"Hey..., my wife makes good money as a pole dancer! Paid her way through college!" admitted McGee.
"Yeah..., I think I paid for one of her semesters myself!" joked Cobbs. "She's HOT!"
"Fuck you, Jerry!" laughed McGee.
"No. But your wife could, anytime!" joked Cobbs, good heartedly.
While the guards all made jokes, Roberts pulled off his towel, revealing his tight little body and firm ass. Malik tried to ignore it as he changed into his uniform.
"You used to be a cop, right?" asked Roberts, starting small talk as he reached for his underwear.
"Yeah." answered Malik, not used to discussing himself to co-workers.
"What was it like? I've always wanted to be a police officer!" glee Roberts.
"Why would you wanna be a cop, kid?" asked Peachtree. "It's a shitty job! They make crap for money, and always get shot at!"
"But..., they get so much respect! They get to carry real guns, and make arrest!" said Roberts. "They make a difference, like getting Tempest Williams off the streets!"
"Have you seen the news lately?" asked McGee, pulling on his jeans. "Tempest Williams escaped!"
"But that wasn't the police fault! Was it?" asked Roberts.
"Philadelphia police officers were stationed outside his door! You tell me!" said Mcgee.
"Have you read about Precinct-23?" asked Peachtree, unbuttoning his uniform shirt. "Corrupt cops! Bad arrest! Undercover blunders! Nothing glamorous about that!"
"Which precinct did you work for Malik?" asked Roberts curiously, standing in his tighty-whities.
"Precinct-23!" said Malik, slamming his locker to total silence. All the guards watched as Malik quietly exited the room.
"In other words, kid..." said Peachtree, slapping Roberts on his butt. "...keep your ass right where it is!"
Pt-6
Malik felt restless for the rest of the evening. He did his rounds, made reports, and ran bed checks before `lights out'. It was at that time he made plans with inmate Marvin Rollins, to meet in the guard's sleeping quarters for another late night rendezvous (as previously seen in pt-4 of chap-7).
"I was wondering if you could do me a favor...?" asked Marvin, standing between the bars of his cell. Malik felt his stomach churn.
"What kinda favor?" he asked, skeptically.
"Relax officer Malik..., ain't like I'm asking you to break me out of prison, or to help me rob a bank or something!" sighed Marvin, noting Malik's apprehension. Malik laughed nervously.
"Then what is it then?" he asked, curiously. Marvin looked around to make sure no one was listening.
"I was talking to one of my boiz about you..., -Duke. He asked if I could set up a lil' sumpthin sumpthin with you, me, and him. You interested?" whispered Marvin.
"A 3some? With another inmate?" asked Malik, looking around. "I asked you to be discreet about us!"
"I am! You think I wanna share my pussy?" asked Marvin, looking over his shoulder to make sure his cellmate wasn't listening. "But Duke keeps asking. He really wants to bag a guard! He's not gonna let up until we do it!"
"What guarantee do I have that he won't go around bragging that he fucked me? That could be my job!" whispered Malik.
"I'll make sure he keeps your name out of it!" assured Marvin. "C'mon man..., for me?" asked Marvin, turning on the charm. "I'll make it up to you, somehow. Besides..., Duke's a big fucker, like me! I bet you'll love getting fucked by the 2 of us!"
Malik thought about what Marvin offered. 2 of him...? Could he handle it?
"What cell he in?" asked Malik.
"That's my baby!" smiled Marvin, knowing Malik was up for the challenge.
Continued...
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