The Trials of Archie Andrews by Bradley Michael Danaher bradmikedan@hotmail.com
Prologue
"Turn around!"
"Get those panties on the ground, ladies!"
"Hands by your sides!"
Archie Andrews glanced around nervously, squinting through the sunlight glaring off the concrete floor. On either side, he caught glimpses of swinging cocks as, one by one, each of the boys to his left and right stepped out of his last remaining garment. Taking a deep breath, he followed suit and kicked his grey boxers off into a heap on top of his jeans and shoes. Then he willed his hands away from his front, clenching them into fists at his sides, bracing himself for what was to come next.
An icy-cold blast hit his chest front-on. Archie gasped for air, and inhaled a mouthful of freezing water instead.
Another blast of cold water hit him straight in the face.
"Five minutes to get clean and get dry. Get moving!"
The water started to warm as Archie gasped again, disorientated. As he blinked through wet eyes, he looked around the steam-filled shower room. To his left was the naked, hulking form of his cellmate, Mad Dog, instantly recognisable though he was no more than a dark figure in the mist. Without thinking, Archie let his eyes drop downwards.
"The fuck you looking at?" He saw a fist inches from his face, and heard his skull thump against the tiles. Then darkness.
"Four minutes!"
"Get up, Andrews!"
Archie opened his swollen eyelids to see Baby Teeth standing over him, fists up.
"We need to give them four more minutes," he hissed through the clamour of the crowd.
Archie wrenched himself off the cracked tiled floor of the empty pool that formed their makeshift boxing ring. He spat a mouthful of blood at his opponent, drawing jeers from the audience watching from above. Baby Teeth peeled his now-bloodied singlet over his head, and took another swing at Archie.
"Loser first!"
The guard shoved Baby Teeth under the shower heads. The smaller teen glanced at Archie through the bruises around his eyes and nose, as cold water started to flow from two showerheads, drenching him from his hair, rinsing the blood from his bare torso, staining his satin boxing shorts.
The guard prodded Archie to join him under the row of showers. As the water began to warm, thin curls of steam filled the space, obscuring the faces of a small crowd of spectators that had gathered. Archie glanced behind him, concerned as they started to fill the locker room's empty benches, some smoking thick cigars, others with beers or glasses or shots of something stronger in hand. He wiped the wet hair out of his face, and turned back to see Baby Teeth lowering his shorts, kicking them against the wall in a wet heap.
Now naked, Baby Teeth wasted no time. He kneeled in front of Archie, unknotting the waistband of the redhead's boxing shorts.
"Whoa!" Archie grabbed Baby Teeth's wrists. "What the hell are you doing?" he whispered frantically.
"Andrews!" the guard growled.
The look on Baby Teeth's face said 'go with it'. Or at least 'go with it if you don't wanna get an ass-whipping'. So Archie slowly released his hands, letting his fellow inmate pull his soaked shorts to his ankles, while he took another look around the audience that had filled the now claustrophobia-inducing room.
In the moment before Baby Teeth took his wet cock into his mouth, Archie realised now why he was made to stay behind here in the showers, stark-fucking-naked, after his last fight. Why he was made to stand, legs apart, arms by his side, shivering in the middle of the damp room with only the single light globe above him giving off any warmth, while he waited for Captain Golightly under the unflinching gaze of a watchful guard. Why when the Captain arrived, he smirked approvingly at the boy and prodded at his bare body with his truncheon, like he was inspecting a steer for slaughter.
"Anyone can throw a punch," Golightly began as he circled the naked teen. "But I hear you have certain proclivities that might make you more of an attraction than most here at Leopold and Loeb." Archie didn't have the faintest fucking clue what he was talking about. He continued, "you have a girl waiting for you back home?"
"Yes, sir."
"You think about her a lot?"
"All the time, sir."
"You ever miss fucking her?"
Archie felt his cock twitch. From thinking about how much he missed Ronnie, sure, but also from feeling this man's gaze sweeping over his taut body, and the gaze of the anonymous guard still in the corner, who hadn't taken his eyes off Archie for nearly twenty minutes. Archie wasn't one to be ashamed of his body, but as he felt his dick twitch involuntarily, he squirmed his fingers and toes as he wished desperately that he could cover himself.
"Like any guy my age -- every night, sir," Archie smirked, hoping he could draw Golightly's attention upwards.
But the Captain didn't stray from his inspection one bit. Soon, Archie felt the truncheon lift the heavy head of his neatly-cut member, which only caused him to chub up some more. The Captain seemed to approve.
"What about boys? Missing any fuck-buddies?"
Archie felt all his cockiness drain away into a cold pool at his feet. "Sir?"
"Don't play coy with me, Andrews. I've heard all about you."
Archie swallowed. Who'd told?
"I guess... uh, yeah. What can I say, I'm just a typical, hot-blooded guy."
Golightly stopped moving now, hovering so close that Archie couldn't help but let his mind race over what might happen next. Suddenly, Archie found himself wondering what he might look like out of his Captain's uniform. Golightly must've sensed Archie's shift in thought. He laughed and stepped back quickly, slapping his truncheon against his palm.
"Not me, Andrews, and not today. But you'll get your chance." To the guard, he barked, "Shave him down."
As Archie willed himself to glance down at the boy with six inches of his rapidly hardening member in his mouth, he imagined Baby Teeth had gotten the same treatment. Rivulets of water ran over the boy's matted blonde hair, down his pale, smooth skin. Archie looked around through his own dripping hair around the steam-filled room and made out the uniforms of guards, policemen, even some ordinary civilians, but no faces he recognised. He might actually live through this, he thought, through the utter humiliation. With his shaft now at full attention, and Baby Teeth's tongue lashing his smooth balls, Archie let out a desperate moan, much to the quiet approval of those watching.
Taking this as his cue, Baby Teeth stood back up, his hand still wringing Archie's hard tool. Archie wanted to beg the smaller teen to get back down, to finish the job, but dozens of eyes watching him being jerked off by another boy reduced his voice to a bare whimper. Baby Teeth turned his back to Archie, placing one arm high on the wall and leaning against the tiles. With his other hand, he pumped what looked like a soap dispenser a couple of times, and rubbed the clear fluid against his waiting hole.
Archie didn't have to be told what to do next. He turned away from the crowd, glad to not have to see their faces any more but feeling their eyes more than ever, crawling over his bare ass like a dozen spiders down his back. He leaned into the blonde boy, breathing in his warmth and the curling steam rising from his body.
He slicked himself up well, lined himself up, and with one, two, three solid thrusts, he was in.
"Ohhh, fuck," Baby Teeth groaned. "Take it slow. We gotta give 'em twenty minutes, remember."
"I'm so sorry, man."
"No, it's good. It's good. You're good. Better you than Mad Dog," he laughed darkly.
Archie's imagination flashed to this lean boy under Mad Dog's hulking frame, one leg cocked in the larger boy's grasp as they tried to make room in his insides for Mad Dog's superhuman tool. As he slid his last few inches in, he could imagine instead of Baby Teeth's subdued gasps, cries of helplessness that would echo through the space. He pressed his hands onto Baby Teeth's flat stomach, and imagined how it would feel instead, expanding and contracting when Mad Dog filled him.
Their bodies finally warmed against one another, the tension in Baby Teeth's back gradually melted away. Archie began to move his hips slowly, almost -- but not completely -- unaware of the many pairs of eyes studying his every motion. Somewhere behind him, champagne was being poured. To his right, a match was struck to light another cigar. The room had become a forest of hard dicks straining against uniforms and tailored suit trousers. He could hear the clinking of ice in glasses, the quiet murmurs of approval at his technique. Bets being taken at how much longer he could last. But Archie only cared that he was buck naked, wet, and pounding the ass of the boy whose face, half an hour ago, he was pounding into the bloodied tiles of Leopold and Loeb's decommissioned swimming pool.
"Ten minutes, Andrews."
And as he held back what was already threatening to flood out of him, he had to wonder how the fuck he ended up here.