Outed

Around the same time that Alex and Travis were walking into their first class of the week. The near new Jaguar, rolled quietly into the Visitors car park at North Gate Prison. The medium level facility was less than three years old, essentially it was just a huge collection of concrete boxes. The driver stepped from the vehicle and made his way to reception.

“Can I help you?” asked the guard from behind the glass.

“Yes, I have a 9.30 visitor booking to see Davis Hilton.”

“I can see we have your details logged already, take a seat.” Instructed the Guard. “He’s being brought down now. There’s a coffee vend just around that corner, if you like.”

“Thank you ma’am, I will.” 

As the visitor sipped the surprisingly good coffee, an agitated Hilton was being escorted to the Contact unit.

“This is bullshit,” the inmate complained. “I already said I’m not talking to anyone except my lawyer. Who is it?”

“Hilton, do I look like your PA?” replied the escort. “How the fuck would I know. Move your arse.”

As the pair made their way through the maze of corridors and check points, Harris continued to complain that his gym workout had been interrupted.

“Stop whining, finish it this afternoon.” Said the guard.

“You know Whites only get the gym in the morning.” He grumbled.

“As I said, I don’t give a fuck. Get in there, Booth two.”

“Well, I’m going to tell who ever it is to fuck the hell off. I’ll be back out here in less than a minute.”    

Hilton stepped into the long room and made his way to Booth Two, almost at the extreme end. When he arrived and looked through the glass he froze.

“You!” he mouthed involuntarily. As his visitor gestured to the phone, holding his own handset already. Hilton sat down with the highest degree of caution. He’d never been so appreciative of bullet proof glass. He picked up the phone, doing his best not to let his shaking hand show.

“Hello Sir.”

“Hello Davis, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“Umm, yes.” His voice was actually quivering.

“I wanted to have a brief chat with you. I hope for your sake, it goes well.” Visitor paused. “I’d hate for you to lie to me, or to neglect to tell me everything. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes Sir, yes sir.” Replied Hilton, seriously worried he was going to urinate on himself.

“Good, I wanted to ask you about the evidence that landed you in here.”

“Umm, my lawyer says two kids saw me and pointed me in a line-up.”

“Davis, I appreciate you being so up-front. Is there any other evidence?”

“Not that the police are telling us.” Revealed Hilton.

“Good. Now about these two kids.”

“They saw me in the car.”

“Yes, yes. I don’t mean that. I mean it would be very bad for you, if anything were to happen to these kids.” Visitor paused, taking careful note of the surprise the prisoner was showing. “Or in fact, if anything bad had already happened, on your say so.”

“Sir, sir. My Lawyer called to say they were in hospital. But, I didn’t do it, I mean I didn’t ask anyone to do it either.” The guy was clearly panicking now. It was good to see, he was telling the truth. “Please believe me.”

“Davis, please calm yourself. I believe you, for the moment.”

“Thank you, thank you sir.”

“Good, then I think we’re done.” Visitor Stood continuing to hold the handset. “Let your Lawyer know I’ll be meeting with you again at some point.”

“Yes Sir, yes sir. I will.”

“Good man. Now, I understand that I may have interrupted your gym set.”

“Yes sir, but it’s no problem, really.”

“Nonsense, do you know Nigel?”

“Err, yes, he runs the black guys. Everyone knows him.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Speak with him. Tell him I would appreciate you being able to train with his crew for today.”

“Yes sir.” Squeaked the prisoner, turning pale. “I will.” He swallowed; knowing he was now obligated to engage the huge man.

Visitor left, dialling his phone from the leather clad interior as he traveled.

“Clifton Hill Police Station.” Answered the call. Time to close down a line of investigation.

* * *

The hospital was quiet for a Monday. The only major activity was happening with the two teams focused on the seventeen-year olds, who were currently bedded on the fourth floor. Their state had incrementally improved over the weekend, which was better than moving in the other direction.

The call was made to leave them sedated and closely monitored.

The parents who had virtually been at the hospital for three days were chased home, and told to get some sleep. There was nothing they could do, sitting around and waiting.

* * *

At eleven, Davis Hilton did the most dangerous thing he’d ever done in his twenty-six years of life. He walked into the inmate filled gym and made his way to the free weight area. Every one present watched this unprecedented event. He arrived in front of Nigel, quivering inside.

“You must have some huge gonads white-boy.” Nigel said plainly. “Get your gear off now. I need to see someone who’s got horse balls like you.” Davis’s head spun. He hadn’t even got to say a word. He stripped, everything. He then stood before the huge guy.

“As you were.” He said to the rest of the gym. Instantly, the twenty-seven African Americans resumed their workouts. Clearly there was nothing to see here. He turned back to Davis and beckoned for him to move closer. Suitably re-positioned, Nigel reached out and took Hilton’s balls in his massive grip.

“Your junk is oversized for a white boy.” He conceded, “but these aren’t big enough to carry you through this stunt. “You’ve got one shot at explaining this serious breach of protocol. Davis licked his lips.

“The Boss sent me.” Nigel froze.

“I see.” He responded. “You’re the one who put the guy from the wharf into intensive care.” Davis nodded, “Now those two kids got smacked up. You do that?”

“No, already told boss that this morning.”

“Boss was here? In person?” asked Nigel disbelieving. The ball held guy just nodded.

“So why did Boss send you to see me?”

“Umm, because he interrupted my gym time. He said to tell you, he’d appreciate me being able to train with your crew today.”

“Well boy. I’m impressed. I didn’t think there was anything you could say to save these nuts, but you just did.” Nigel released his grip. “Of course, though, you know there’s a problem.” Davis nodded. “Oh, ok let’s see if you get two for two, although this one’s easy. Take a shot.”

“The minute I walked in here, I was segregated from the whites.” Nigel nodded.

“Yep, and because Boss suggested it, I have to protect your well-muscled, fat free but seriously endangered hide.” The jail gang leader paused looking Hilton up and down. “Turn around, slow.” The guy complied. “Ok, you’re working with me, Julio set up the bar. Then go and ask officer Morris if he could drop by.” The young guy who’d been nearby the whole time sprung to life, doing as told. “Get yourself some bells man.” He said to Davis as the guy bent to retrieve his clothes.

“Nah, you can put your sneakers back on, but when you’re in here, this is how you train.” Nigel gestured to his naked state. Davis knew he was staying nude.

Morris arrived around twenty minutes later, Julio a step behind. Nigel and Davis were covered in sweat by then.

“What are you doing with a white boy in here? And naked!” Asked the tough floor warden. “You trying to rock the boat?”

“Special request from Boss.” Answered the man mountain.

“I see. I heard he was here. In fucken person mind you.” Morris paused. “How are you going to handle this?”

“Reassign him to my cell, when the dust settles, we’ll deal with it then.” Morris nodded and was gone.    

* * *

When the doors opened at school on Tuesday morning, Alex wasn’t waiting for entry. Instead, he slept as long as he could. He knew Coach would push them hard tonight at gym, and he wanted as much reserve energy as possible.

The team still seemed rattled. To be expected, he told himself, finals, and attempting to integrate two replacement members this late in the season. It was always going to be a challenge.

Still, even taking this into account, it felt like a feather light fault line had opened through the team. It had been there since Tim and Stu had been outed.

As he wandered through the student crowded corridors, he took note that Stu’s locker had been re-tagged. A smaller felt tip and more haphazard, but the same message. Expecting such, he looked down at the ¾ full alcohol bottle in his hand. He arrived at Travis’s locker thirty seconds later. Travis tensed on seeing him making his way towards him.

“Hey, it wasn’t me.” He said, attempting a pre-emptive strike.

“I know,” replied Alex and a friendly voice. “Let’s talk,” he said, nodding towards the empty classroom next door.

Arriving at one of the front desks he put the bottle down and emptied his pocket of three soft cloths. He turned to see Travis closing the door behind him.

“I said it wasn’t me.” The worried boy repeated. “I don’t want you to hit me in the nuts again.”

“I said, I know.” Answered the big guy as he sat on the desk and put his feet up on the seat.

“So what’s all this then?” Travis asked.

“These are your supplies.”

“For what?” asked the confused graffiti artist.

“Twice a day you’ll check the guy’s lockers, and if the shit is there, you’ll clean it off.”

“I paid yesterday.” He whined, “I did what you said, I spent the whole day covered in black shit. Mum went nuts when I got home, says I ruined my sweater.” Alex shrugged.

“You did pay yesterday. This is not about that mistake, that slate is clean.” Informed Alex.

“So what is it about?” Travis asked, confused.

“This is about you looking out for your team mates.” Alex paused, “same as they did for you, at the end of last season.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you got drunk after the last game, when we didn’t make the finals.” Continued Alex.

“Everyone got drunk that night!” he defended.

“Yeah, but Stu and Tim dragged your sorry arse out of the rain, and sat you in the coat room to dry. Saved your skinny arse from freezing,”

“They did that?” He questioned incredulous. “When I asked the next morning, everyone said I crawled inside.”

“How the fuck would anyone know. Everyone was fucked out of their mind drunk, including them.” Alex countered.

“How do you know? You were passed out well before anyone.” Travis drilled.

“It was at my fucken house, my security camera covered house.” Alex informed.

“They did that?” Travis marvelled. Alex just nodded his head.

“They were too drunk to remember, but not too drunk to look out for team.”

“I’m a fuck!” said Travis harshly. Tears forming in the corners of his eyes. ‘Why’d they go and be like that!”

“It’s who they are man. They showed me who I was a few weeks ago.” Alex stopped, “But to be fair, I think they were just having fun for themselves. I don’t think they’re angels.”

Travis snatched up the bottle and cloths.

“I’m going to clean that shit off.” He said.

“Good, I knew you had it in you.” Replied Alex. Travis froze, mouth agape.

“You’re one too!” declared Travis suddenly. Alex felt his temperature rise.

“What do you mean?” he quizzed, carefully.

“You go around doing good shit, and just let everyone think you’re a hard arse.” Travis answered. “They go around doing good shit, and hide they’re gay.”

* * *

On Wednesday Stu’s drug regime was changed again, far less aggressive. They were designed to ‘ease’ him out. By nightfall he was starting to move about in bed, it was working.

Tim, resting in another ward, had finally stopped urinating blood, the medicos began to cut back his sedation.

Damian, Cathy and Kevin ate dinner at Kevin’s house that night. For the first time in a week the parents felt the mental strain had begun to ease. Thank god.

At the same time, four streets across Jane Goodall received an evening call.

“Hello.” She answered.

“Miss Goodall, it’s officer Tonkin from Clifton Hill Police.” Said the polite voice.

“Good evening officer, how can I help?”

“Can you come to the station tomorrow.” Tonkin asked. “I know you’ve already given a statement, but the officer in charge wants to double check anything. We’ve eliminated one of our major lines of investigation.”

* * *

As Thursday began, Davis Hilton again found himself on his knees, waiting. This was his third morning as co resident of Cell 14/3B. For the third time in his life, he was going to suck the cock of a man. Nigel finished brushing his teeth and turned to sit on the bed. After he had himself arranged with his knees spread wide, he nodded for Davis to start.

His cell mate reached up and gently took hold of the huge cock before him. It was on its way to being its usual rock hard. Hilton stretched his mouth as wide as he could, and took the monster between his lips. Nigel groaned.

”Fuck, you’re starting to get good at this white boy,” he said, meaning it. “Can’t wait until you’re deep throating.” He placed his hands on the now buzz cut head, bobbing between his thighs. “There’s no rush though, no rush at all.”

In the last two days, Davis had lost every strand of body hair, had his head clipped to nothing, and spent all his time in Nigel’s cell naked.

“You keep servicing me like this, I’m going to keep you all for myself.” Nigel predicted. “You can see what happens when I get bored, did you notice I started sharing Julio around?” Davis had, every time he’d seen the guy since, he was being fucked. Every time! He returned to concentrating on doing what was expected of him, a trapped white-boy with a hot muscled body.

His world had been turned upside down. Three weeks ago, he was in the upper middle ranks of an organisation going places. He wasn’t top dog by any means, but he was on his way. Sure, he’d had brushes with the law before. He’d done two years at 17, with another six months at twenty-two. Since then, he’d been smarter. What the fuck had he been thinking in beating the guy to a pulp. It was just meant to be a run of the mill stand-over job, why the fuck had the guy resisted? Everyone knows how the system worked.

Now everything was out of control. Fingered by two kids, locked up, paid a visit by Boss and now the white pet of a black gang leader. If he ever got out, he’d have to move to the East coast. There was no future for him here.

He sensed Nigel tense; the man was about to blow. When he did, he’d swallow, and then lick the cock clean. Suddenly, he felt his head being gripped in a vice, the cock in his mouth pulsed. He gulped as quick as he could, he was getting better.

When he was released, Nigel laid back recovering.

“Get ready, I’m hungry.” Came the instruction. He stood and found the pink plastic cock cage he was required to wear whenever he was outside the cell. It was a full size too small and caused pain for most of the time it was fitted. He squashed his ample cock into it and clicked it locked. Nigel took the key. He hadn’t been allowed to jack off for three days, the pressure in his nuts starting to build.

He dragged on his too tight shorts, and matching too tight tee. He was being shown off.

They made their way down to breakfast. Davis would sit at the black table; he wouldn’t speak.

“I think we’ll start fucking this weekend,” said Nigel, as a matter-o-fact, as they walked the corridor. “What do you think of that boy?”

“Whatever you want Nigel.” Replied Hilton, swallowing at the thought of him being pried open by the weapon he sucked every morning.

“Hah, you got that right boy, yes siree.” Nigel was all smiles, he had himself a pet. 

* * *

“Thanks for coming in.” Welcomed Officer Tonkin. “I know it seems odd, given that we have your statement, we just want to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

“No problem. How is the boy? I heard he had a turn for the worse.” Jane asked.

“Yes, we saw that on Face book ourselves.” Confirmed Tonkin, “we understand he’s doing better yesterday and this morning.”

“May we make a start?” the officer asked, and received a nod. “If I could just clarify something. It may have been taken down in error, it says here you know Kevin Bolton.

Do you mean Damian Baxter? The father of the injured boy.”

“No,” Jane began, “I’ve not met Damian. He’s the father of the boy I found, at least that’s what I was told.”

“So, there were two boys hurt that night. You know one, but found the other?”

“Not really, I’ve met both boys before,” Jane corrected, “but I know the father of Stuart. Kevin Bolton.”

“Know as in an acquaintance, or as in a good friend.” The officer probed, attempting to keep the connections clear.

“No, as a good friend. I mean last time I visited, he installed my dash cam. It’s that sort of friendship.” Jane added. The officer quickly opened her notes and scanned the page. She suddenly looked up, intently.

“Your car has a dash cam?”

* * *

As Thursday progressed, so too did Stu and Tim. The doctors further wound back Tim’s medication. By tonight they expected him to be wide awake, and with his pain in check. Stu was definitely waking, to the delight of everyone, he’d even had his eyes open for short spells. His specialist doctor was predicting he’d be fully conscious tomorrow, Friday.

* * *

With the discovery of Jane’s dash cam, the Sargent ordered a review of the location of Stu’s attack. It yielded results almost straight away.

James Keller welcomed in the officers and showed them his CCTV gear. The man seemed lost, on edge. He hadn’t viewed, or offered the footage from the night. He apologised profusely, but he hadn’t been thinking straight then, or since. To tell them the truth, finding the boy in the street had been horrific, he was sure the lad was going to die in his arms.

He lost a friend in Vietnam that way, the event brought it all back. He’d barely slept a wink since. The officers took the footage he had, and immediately organised a councillor. They stayed with the old veteran and his frail wife, until the woman arrived.

Both set of extracted videos were sent to processing with a rush order.

* * *

Around Friday noon, news broke at the school that Stu and Tim had woken, and seemed ok. It was all the canteen could talk about during lunch break. When the student intensity was mentioned in the staff room, the fact that their progress was being followed so closely was a surprise to Coach. Why were people focused on the two fairies? he asked himself. Surely the fact the team, his team, was in the first round of the final’s tomorrow was more worthy news. He shook his head in disbelief.  

* * *

The investigation team at Clifton Hill Police Station gathered in the briefing room. The clock had just edged past six, Friday evening.

“Ok, let’s see where we’re at.” Sarge called to attention. “The videos landed an hour ago, both Prince street and Picnic avenue. footage gives us positive IDs on the perpetrators. Same guys did both attacks. We think they used this short-cut laneway here to travel from A to B.”

“Do we have names?”

“We’ve got what we think are surnames from the Picnic avenue cam. You wouldn’t believe it, but the old guy has a microphone set up at his letter box!” Sarge paused. “What we need to do here and now, is work out who these guys are, and the connection to the victims.”

The team got to work.

* * *

As Saturday morning arrived the prison schedule clicked over to weekend timing. Breakfast fell an hour later at 8.30. Davis stood drying from a self-administered douching he’d performed with a plastic soda bottle. He’d been practicing during the week, and had it down pat enough to make sure he was cleaned out.

He’d also been stretching himself with one of Julio’s dildos. It wasn’t anywhere near Nigel’s girth, but it was better than nothing. Julio had been happy to give one up, the pair had become some sort of brothers in arms. The slight twenty-year-old, knew first-hand what it was like to be Nigel’s cum dump. Now he was the hole for the gang’s management team, he’d had little respite since his ‘re-assignment’. Still, the boy felt it wasn’t such a bad thing to be distanced from the gang leader.

Nigel watched on as Davis crawled to the lower bed and positioned himself on all fours. He was going to be fucked. For the first time in his life, he was going to experience having another man inside his body, he shuddered. How the fuck had it come to this?

He felt Nigel’s lubricated weapon press to his rose. The lube was cool, even though he could feel the guys body heat. Oh god, he felt the pressure increase on his hole. Why the fuck was he letting this happen? He was being turned out as the sex toy of a black gang leader. At least Julio was black, his humiliation didn’t involve being dominated by race as well. Oh fuck, this cock was huge!  

Davis felt his ring being stretched, seriously stretched! He was sure he was going to be split in two, torn at the very least. He felt Nigel stop and pull back, he was being given the chance to catch up. He was breathing heavy, already dripping in sweat. The minute his ring relaxed, the monster cock resumed its march inward. Oh god, he was being fucked!

Nigel was in heaven. There wasn’t much better sport than turning out a new hole, and this one was just the type he liked. Muscled, slim and straight. His cock strained; rock hard. At this rate it wasn’t going to be a long session. He pressed forward hearing the guy whine as his arsehole was being transformed in to his pussy.

For something different, he’d decided to keep this one dick-locked. At the start of last week, it had just been a few hours here and there. Now he had the guy locked twenty-four seven, he was curious to see how it would fuck with his mind. Even after a few days, it was clear that white-boy was beginning to get desperately full.

He’d sat with Johnston, the head of the white clan. It wasn’t unusual, and such chats allowed the big house to run more smoothly. He’d explained how Hilton had ended up in the black camp. Johnston had accepted it was Boss’s desire, and that would be the end of it. As an act of goodwill, Nigel had offered the man Julio’s services. The guy was a skilled pussy and could take a pounding. Johnston accepted, but wanted to wait a few weeks. All was good.

He felt himself bottom out, white-boy was as full as he was going to be. The guy was squealing into his pillow, his arse stretched beyond anything he could have imagined. Nigel gave him a few minutes to catch up. Blood was never good, and there was no harm in waiting.

As Davis’s ring finally made its accommodation, for the invader now filling him, he took a moment to give his voice a rest. The pain screaming through his midsection was mind warping. Holy fuck! How did gays cope with this? He felt Nigel start to pull out before reversing his thrust. The man sex had begun.

For the next twenty-five minutes he was fucked like he could never have expected, nothing prepared him for the pounding he endured. Nigel went nuclear! It took him three days to get over it completely, he couldn’t walk until Sunday night. He simply missed meals, until he could drag himself to the canteen. It hadn’t been discussed, but as soon as his arse recovered, his regular daily and twice daily poundings would begin. He was a fuck hole.