Date: Sun, 23 Mar 2008 18:53:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: justinr_88@yahoo.com
Subject: Doing Hard Time chapter 1 (MM 1st)

                       DOING HARD TIME

Author's Note: I originally published this story on the Just
Us Boys forum for Gay Stories. Here I present an edited
version, with some changes, mainly correcting grammar but
occasionally modifying minor plot details so that in ties in
better with the overall story. I hope you enjoy this story
and you can send your feedback to me at the above email
address.

The story has more than one narrator, and each individual's
narrative begins with the precursor "From the Narrative of
<Narrator>". The prison setting, which features prominently
in the first part of the story, is entirely fictional. As
such, the procedures and circumstances in the penitentiary
are not intended to be representative of actual prison
conditions. Likewise all the characters are fictional and
any resemblance to real persons, alive or deceased, is
purely coincidental. The usual disclaimers and copyright
laws apply.


                        ~ Chapter 1 ~

From the Narrative of Harrison Alistair Ridgeway IV:

There was a time when I'd thought I would never see the
inside of a prison. That was then. Now the stark,
unforgiving walls of Wickham Maximum Security Penitentiary
that surrounded me destroyed any illusions I might have
harboured. And in a few moments, with the admission
procedures completed, I would become an inmate of the
Californian prisons system - designated a number and
stripped of my freedom.

But that wasn't the only thing I would be divested of, as it
would turn out over the course of the next few months. But
I'm getting ahead of myself. What did the only son of a
wealthy and influential politician like Alistair Ridgeway do
to end up in a maximum-security prison? I was a victim of
circumstance, paying the price for being in the wrong place
at the wrong time. It was a miscarriage of justice that had
landed me here. At least that was what I kept telling
myself, but my certainty was wearing thin. Below it all
there was a nagging doubt - and something a lot worse.

However I was not allowed to ponder it further for the time
being. The sound of my name being called snapped me out of
my reverie. A prison guard was signaling me to follow him
and my natural obedience kicked in. He led me into the
centre of a chilly, white-tiled room, where there was a
metal table and, on it, a plastic receptacle.

It was all very overwhelming. The fact that my mother's
hysterical cries when I'd been sentenced were replaying
themselves in my ears did not help. But there was no
respite.

"Strip."

I stared at the guard who'd pronounced the order. It was not
as if I hadn't anticipated this, but somehow I thought I'd
have some measure of privacy when I disrobed. I certainly
hadn't expected to have to do it with a balding, middle-aged
guard in attendance. He leered unpleasantly at me as I
hesitated.

"Don't I get some privacy?" I asked him tentatively as he
continued to stare at me.

His reply was a smirk. "No. All your clothes go into that
basket, and your personal belongings into that sealable
plastic bag."

There was no other way about it. Reluctantly, I loosened my
tie and took off my jacket. And then, with increasing
discomfort, I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. The
guard's gaze on me - or rather my body - made me swallow
nervously. Don't get me wrong; I may not have muscle
definition but I was what I considered pretty fit. I'd had
no qualms shedding my clothes in front of my ex-girlfriend.
But it was a completely different matter when it was other
guys eyeing me. It brought back a rush of memories I would
rather forget. Blocking the guard's stare from my mind, I
dropped my trousers and stood there, shivering in my boxers.
I took my time folding my clothes with careful precision as
I tried to delay for as long as possible the inevitable.

The guard lost his patience. "We don't have all day!" he
snapped. "Get those boxers off and hop into the shower."

It occurred to me that pissing off the guard on my very
first day of incarceration wasn't a very good idea. I
decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. Turning
away from him, I pulled down my underwear. The guard
probably had the full view of my ass, but there was little I
could do about that. Holding my hands protectively over my
crotch, I walked hurriedly to the shower. I caught a glimpse
of the guard's face - the leer had returned. Needless to
say, I couldn't have a very thorough shower with him
watching. I was careful to keep my back to him at all times.
When I finally looked back, I saw that the guard had
disappeared, along with my things, presumably to store them
away. I took the opportunity to turn around and wash my
back, hurriedly returning to my initial position when I saw
him coming back in.

"Okay, shower's over. Dry yourself with that towel and get
over here," he commanded. Turning the shower off, I dried
myself the best that I could without exposing myself to him
before walking back to the table. I noticed prison-issue
clothing now laid out on it. I reached one hand towards
them, keeping the other firmly over my genitals.

"Hold on there, sonny. You're not putting those on until
you've been examined." I looked at him blankly. "To see if
you've got contraband anywhere on your person," he
explained, which was when I realized what he was talking
about.

"You're ." I gulped. "You're going to examine me?"

He grinned at my obvious distress. "No, Rob here is going to
be the one examining you." That was when I realized that
there was another guard just outside the doorway. The damned
bastard had brought along a friend to witness my
humiliation. For the thousandth time I cursed my stupidity
which had allowed me to get into this situation.

Rob walked over behind me and told me to bend over. The
order itself sounded wrong, but I didn't have much choice
about it. I immediately realized I couldn't keep my hands in
front of my crotch in that position.

Rob, grinning almost as evilly as his partner, said, "Hands
by your side." I cursed both of them, who were probably
getting off by having a naked young guy in front of them.
His examination wasn't intrusive at first. He ran his gloved
hands through my hair, and then used a small flashlight to
scrutinize both my ears.

"Okay, now stand straight," was his next command. Seeing me
move my hands towards my groin, he quickly added, "With your
hands by your side." He struggled to conceal his grin as I
obeyed reluctantly. Across the room, the smirk on the other
guard's face widened as he finally got to see my manhood. I
couldn't linger too long on what I wanted to do to the two
guards, because at this point Rob was running his hands over
my chest - as if there was anywhere to conceal anything
there. His gloved finger stopped at my left nipple.

"Used to be pierced, eh?" he smirked. I'd been persuaded by
my ex-girlfriend to get a nipple ring, which I'd personally
considered rather gay and a rather strange request coming
from her, what with her general dislike of all things gay.

The guard's next remark made me blush. "Not down there
though?" he said with a grin, as he moved his scrutiny to
the area in question. He lifted my cock in one gloved hand
as he inspected my pubic hair.

To my horror, I felt a rush of blood to my groin. What the
heck was going on? I was emphatically straight, and this
certainly wasn't the most erotic of situations, yet for some
reason I was starting to feel the beginnings of a hard-on as
Rob cupped my genitals in his hand. I willed my cock to go
back to its flaccid state. Luckily, he finished his
inspection of it, apparently not noticing any changes. The
momentary feeling passed, and I began to wonder if I had
just imagined it.

The examination of my legs and feet continued. When he was
done, he asked me turn around. The same procedure took
place. Then he asked me to bend over again. My face turning
red with shame, I realized what he intended to do. Sure
enough, he parted my buttcheeks, and started to grope around
my crack. His fingers became more intrusive as he stuck one
of them into my asshole. I let out an involuntary gasp.

"Relax," he told me. I tried hard to. The sooner this
humiliating exam was over, the better. I was prepared as he
poked another finger into my hole. Then, alarmingly, I
started to have the same feeling again. I was confused and
horrified. Was I actually finding this stimulating? There
was no way, I told myself. Yet I found my cock growing
stiffer by the second, until it was almost semi-erect.

"Okay, we're done here. He's clean," Rob reported to his
partner. Turning to me, he said, "You can put those clothes
on now." I hurried to do so, clasping the clothes to my
groin to hide my semi-erect cock. From the grin on the other
guard's face, I guessed he must have seen it. I flushed with
shame. The feeling intensified as I realized the clothes I'd
been given were a couple of sizes too small. The boxer
shorts made no secret of my erection. As I hurried into the
pants, I realized that it was tight around the groin area.

"Can I have a larger size?" I asked. "This one's kind of
small for me."

The middle-aged guard grinned. "I don't see any problem."
His eyes lingered at my crotch. I had the horrible feeling
I'd been set up. It was no surprise that when I put on the
prison-issue shirt, I found it clung so tightly to my torso
that my nipples were visible through the thin, worn
material.

"Alright then, prisoner 582036, I'll show you to your new
cell." My heart sank as I heard my number being called for
the first time. "And your friendly cellmate," added the
guard, laughing at his own joke. I, on the other hand,
didn't think I could feel any worse.

Leering inmates whistled and catcalled from their cells as I
was led down the corridor past them. "Hey who's the new
kid?" "Yeah, who's the pretty boy?" "Mitch is going to get
the little bitch for sure."

Troubled thoughts ran through my mind. Who was Mitch? And
what exactly did they mean he was going to "get me"? Little
did I know I would find out before the day came to an end.

                      To be continued .

Part 2 to follow soon.