Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 13:27:21 -0800 (PST)
From: Nels B. <nailsb69@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Bagboy - Chap. 12

Warning: This story contains graphic sex scenes
between men.  If you don't want to read it or are
underage, leave now.   If you enjoy it or have
comments, write me.  Adress at the end of the chapter.

                                  Cain, 2
                           The Bagboy, Chap. 12
                               by Bob Nelson

"You cain't take me in er lock me up!" Cain bellowed
the Highway Patrol officers manhandling him into a
cruiser.  "It's them Goddam QUARES you gotta ketch an'
lock up!  They shot me and kidnapped by boy!  No
tellin' what  they're up to with him, but ah'm shore
they're tryin' some quare shit on him... I jes' cain't
unnerstand why  you don't take off after 'em. They
live somewhere in Lynchburg.  I know!"

"Just how do you know where they live, Sir," the
Officer in charge asked, trying to keep his
professional demeanor. He was hard put to do it,
though after this foul-mouthed, bad-smelling old
fart had cursed at them, spit at  them, and tried to
escape twice.  Two other officers were each holding
one of the man's arms, even though they had finally
cuffed his hands behind his back.  They had just put
shackles on his ankles, too, as there was probable
cause that this man was a perp, not just an innocent
man, shot and tied to a tree.

"Tell us again how many there were. who got shot, how
you  got shot, and how they were able to get your son
to go with them," the officer asked in a level voice
of authority, scowling at the man.  They had all been
trained in domination tactics, to get and keep the
upper hand in action, voice, eye gaze, facial
expression and body language.  It was easy to do with
this man -- he had never met a more  unlikeable
person.

"Like I TOL'  ya!  Ah was a-huntin' an' my boy Ralphie
had gone back to the cabin to fetch the scatter gun.
We hadn't had any luck with d--  bigger game, and ah
figgered we'd best git us a rabbit or a couple o'
squirrels.  Then I saw what I was shore was a gobbler
behind this very tree.  I was about sixty yard up that
hill, thar," nodding his head up hill, where there
was a more open space than anywhere else nearby, "so I
took a bead and fired.  Then Godalmighty, I heard a
man holler!  I prayed to God I hadn't kilt him or hit
him bad, and went runnin' down here.  The older man
was on the ground, the younger man was leanin' over
him, tryin' to stop the blood comin' out'n his side.
I aksed what I could do and that young whippersnapper
told me to get away, that I'd almost kilt his friend,
and musta done it on purpose.   I was shocked to hear
him say that and tol' him 'No WAY, but what er you
fellers doin' on my land.  It's posted.'   He said
he brought his friend up here to show him his
Grandpappy's cabin over yonder," nodding his head
toward an old log cabin about one hundred feet away,
with a split rail fence enclosing a pasture.  It had
the look of being long abandoned.

"That let me know ezackly who the young feller is.
He's my brother's son, Greg,  that I hadn't seen in
almost ten years.  I din't even know he knew where my
Pappy's cabin was.  I ain't never seen him or my
brother Adam since we was all moved off this land by
the Gummint, in 1939.  Then Greg got real testy an'
lunged at me, tryin' to take my rifle.  I jumped back
quick and pointed it kinda toward him to make him
stop.  I din't know what he might do if'n he thought
I'd shot his friend' on purpose.

About then my boy Ralphie came down the hill from our
cabin, with the scatter gun.  I hollered at him that
I'd accident'ly shot a man, but the other one was
tryin' to get my gun and seemed dangerous.  Told
Ralphie to cover them till the one settled down.
Right away Greg started hollerin' uphill to tell
Ralphie his way o' what happened, like I'd shot 'em on
purpose!  No way! I'm a peaceable man!" he finished
almost in a whine.

"But how did YOU get shot and tied to the tree?" the
officer in charge asked.

"Right away, Ralphie believed  him!  My own boy,  my
own flesh an' blood! Turned agin me and said, 'Pa,
why'd ya shoot 'em.  I tol' ya and I tol' ya that ya
cain't jes' shoot trespassers!'  Think o' that!  A boy
tellin' his Pa what's right an' wrong!  Sure,  I've
fired warning shots at a couple o' people in the past,
jes' to scare 'em off an' let me an' Ralphie live
peaceable here."

"Have you ever shot any others, maybe hitting them by
accident?" the officer asked.

"Wal, one of 'em hollered and cussed me, said I'd
almost kilt him, but he was movin' much too easy to
have been shot.  He never came back though! That's
what I do it fer."

"Who shot you and tied you up?" the officer persisted.

"Why my own boy, Ralphie!!  He believed Greg, though
he didn't know it was his cousin at the time.  Greg
tol' Ralphie to cover me with the scatter gun so's he
could get my rifle.  I warn't about to give it to him,
so I raised it kinda like pointin' at him, and tol'
him to stop er I'd hafta defend mahself.   He din't
stop and jes' as I pointed the rifle at him, Ralphie
shot me!   I dropped my gun and rolled on the groun',
not knowin' how bad I was hurt.  Then Greg an' Ralphie
jumped me, one of 'em clobbered me with a heavy stick
and I guess I went out for a few minutes.  When I came
to Ralphie had got a piece o' rope outta the cabin an'
they were tyin' me to the tree!  I started fightin'
back, cussin' 'em, hollerin' at Ralphie to act like my
son.  Remindin' him all I'd done for him.   Damnedest
thing -- he said that's why he was helpin' tie me up!
 That's how it happened, Officer.  Now let me go,
Dammit, er I'll whup every one o' yer sorry asses!
ARRRHHH!"

"Put the restraints between his elbows and knees and
tighten them up!  We don't want him to hurt himself -
- or any of us!" the officer in charge ordered.

The two patrol cars headed to the station to book Cain
on threats against them, and suspected intentional
wounding of a trespasser. The officer who booked him
was none too gentle, as Cain unleashed another stream
of invective against him and his mother.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cain came to or woke up, head throbbing, his foot
hurting, and his mouth dry.  He tried to sit up and
found he was still cuffed and shackled.  He began
hollering, "Guard!  Guard!  Gimme some water, dammit
-- an'  let me OUTA here!"

In a few minutes the duty guard came back to the
solitary cell where Cain was, with a cup of water.

"Are you going to settle down, so I can remove your
shackles, and maybe your cuffs?"

"Hell, NO, I'm not gonna settle down and be nice!  You
got a innocent man here, treatin' me like shit!  Now
lemme loose an' lemme go!" as he rolled, trying to get
up.

The guard opened the cell door and knelt down with the
cup of water, saying "I'm not going to release your
hands without a backup guard or two, but I'll hold the
cup so you can drink."

Cain took two swallows, then spat the third swallow
into the face of the guard, saying, "Fuck you, pussy
boy!  Yer so nice an' dainty yer prob'ly another of
them fag quares what stole my son outta the woods!"

The officer kept his cool, backed out of the cell,
locked it, and went to dry off and write his report.

- - - - - - - -

Monday morning Cain was brought into court for his
hearing, to determine if there was a case against him.
 He was still in his same clothes, cuffed and
shackled, but no restraints between his elbows and
knees.  He shuffled in, looking down and muttering.
He was seated in the accused's seat.

"All rise!  This is District Court  ------" the
Bailiff announced the opening of the court, specifying
its jurisdiction and naming Judge Lynch, presiding.

Judge Lynch was an imposing man in his robes, with a
face that showed he was in charge.  He was not big in
stature, but seemed larger than life in HIS court
room.  The only case that morning was Cain, and as he
was brought before the Judge, the charges were read:
intentional wounding, resisting arrest, and
threatening police officers on duty.

"Has Mr. Hanson requested Council, Baliff?"

"No, Your Honor."

"Mr. Cain Hanson, you heard how you were charged.  How
do you plead?"

"NOT GUILTY, o' course, you silly sumbitch!"

"SILENCE IN THE COURT!   You will not  curse me or any
other person in this courtroom!  You will answer all
questions in a polite manner, with NO other outbursts!
  DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Yes, your Honor," Cain mumbled, obviously subdued.

"Bailiff, are there witnesses of the acts for which
this man is charged?"

"Yes Your Honor,  three witnesses:  Mr Bob Nelson, who
was shot, Mr. Greg Hanson, nephew of the accused, and
Mr. Ralph Hanson, step-son of the accused."

Cain whirled around and saw the us sitting there,
staring at him coldly. He immediately began, "You no
good sons o' bitches, you --" when the Bailiff put his
gloved hand over Cain's mouth.  Apparently they'd
expected it and were prepared.

We were all sworn in, told our stories which
corroborated each other and absolutely negated Cain's
fabrication.   Bob had his hospital release,
detailing the severity of the wound and the procedures
needed to save his life.  I told how Ralph had
realized his "Daddy" would shoot us if given the
chance, and Ralph stated calmly and clearly that he
had shot his "Daddy" in the foot to keep him from
getting to the rifle, hit him in the head to knock him
out, helped me tie him up, and left with us.  I added
that Ralph's actions had saved Bob's life, according
to the Head Nurse and the E.R. Physician.

"Mr. Cain Hanson," the Judge continued, "you have
heard the sworn testimony against you for
intentionally shooting Mr. Bob Nelson and threatening
to shoot not only his friend, your nephew Greg Hanson,
but also your own son! Do you wish to change your
plea?"

"No Sir!  Them er all lyin' and plottin' to put me
away so's they can steal my land up there!  My boy was
a good boy, but he's been gettin' disrespectful,
lately, so's he jes' went along with 'em.  They had
time to talk it over so all their stories would match!
 They're LYIN'!  I'm innocent!"   He started lunging
and tried to grab the Bailiff's club, the only weapon
in the court.

"Restrain that man and return him to his solitary
cell!" the Judge boomed.   It was done instantly.

After Cain was gone, the Judge verified our stories
once more, explained that this was a preliminary
hearing, but he was called in due to the seriousness
of the charges.  A formal trial, with an attorney for
Cain and a prosecuting attorney, a jury if Cain
requested, and all formal procedures would be held.
He asked if we were willing to attend and state what
we had already told him under oath.  We all agreed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The trial took longer, with a lot more procedural
action, reaction, and counteraction between the
Prosecuting Attorney and the Defense Attorney.
Greg's Dad came with us, for support, and told us it
all had to be carefully done so it couldn't be
overturned or thrown out on a technicality.  We were
willing to sit through it if that man were put away.

The jury came back in with "Guilty on all charges."
When they came back in the next time, their
recommendation to the Judge was "Ten to Twenty years,
without parole."  The Judge agreed, and sentenced Cain
to fifteen years in the penitentiary.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You can't  put me in there!  You can't put  me in
there!   I've heard what they do to a new man in these
places!" wailed Cain as they drove him up to the
penitentiary walls.

"Oh?  What kinds of things have you heard?  What are
you afraid of?" asked the accompanying guard.

"There's lots of preverts and quares in these paces!
They grab a new man when the lights go out and trade
him all around,  raping his ass! They'll rape me to
death!"

"Oh, I wouldn't be that worried.  They like tender,
young prisoners -- the nice looking ones who smell
nice and have all their teeth.  I think they'll let
you alone," the guard said with an evil leer, "unless
you want  them to play those games with you?"

"WANT  them to?  What kinda man do ya think I am?  I
ain't no quare, no pussy-man!  I'm a real man what
fucks women, and don't want NOTHIN' to do with no
limp-wristed fags!"

"Well, you're in luck, Mr. Cain.  They send all those
kinds to other penitentiaries.  This is the BIG House,
where only real men, real hardened criminals are
housed.  Since you're such a big, strong, man, who
hates weak men, we thought you'd like it here,
better."

With that the guard took Cain through the double
barred entry doors, closed and locked behind them
before a similar door was opened to let them into the
prison, itself.  A raw, cold gust of air hit them,
carrying the mixed scent of greasy fried foods, human
excrement, and a strong deodorant, like Pine Sol mixed
with Lysol.  There was a damp coldness that seemed to
start sapping the warmth from any newcomer.  Cain
shivered in spite of his bravado and false courage.

He was marched between two huge, burly Black guards to
Prison Issue.  Either one of the guards could have
thrown him up onto the catwalk of the next level, or
broken him in two.  Cain walked meekly to Prison Issue
where he was given his blankets and clothes.  He was
forced to change out of his old, ragged clothes into
prison gray, with a black strip diagonally across his
back and down each leg.  All the clothes were loose,
including the boots.   He buttoned up, zipped up, and
tied his boots, then picked up all the rest and was
led to his cell.

His cell was on the third tier of cells, down one
long, wide open passage, which Cain would later find
out was called "Broadway," the main way in and out, to
the dining room and out the other end to the exercise
yard.  Cells faced into it from both sides.  All
prisoners were in their cells and came to the ends,
looking out at the new man.  This was the only
entertainment for some, while others who had earned
their privileges had TV time, Library time, or workout
and job training time.  But now they were all looking
out, calling out invitations and insults to Cain.

"Hey, Sweetie, Welcome Home!"

"Is your dance card filled, yet?"

"I've got something I'd like to give you!"

"Save some for me!"

"Let me have him before The Beast gets him!"

"Yeah, he'll be too loose for any of us after The
Beast!"

Cain had started down the long open area with a tough,
mad look on his face, but it gradually faded, to be
replaced by fear.   He'd never been afraid of
anything, he told himself.... but he'd never been in a
place like this -- or even imagined it.   His little
boy terrors of bullies beating him up came rushing
back, with a very large probability that some -- or
many  of these men would do things to him that he
shuddered to think of.

Cold sweat broke out on his face, as he furtively
glanced as some of the loudest or biggest cons.   They
ALL looked meaner than he'd ever felt!  The guard took
him up two flights of metal stairs to a catwalk or
narrow balcony that all the cells opened onto.  It
overlooked "Broadway."  All cells had their doors
facing "Broadway" or the corridor running at right
angles to it, called "Main", or on one of the
balconies running fifteen, thirty, or forty-five feet
above them, with only a heavy metal rail to keep
anyone from falling down onto those mean streets.

Cain shuddered in spite of his promise to be tough, to
not let it get to him or at least to never let it
show.

"Here you are, man.  Your home for fifteen years.  Go
on in, make yourself comfortable, and meet your new
best friend and room mate.   The cons all call him
'The Beast.' "

A huge, ebony Black man, over six and a half feet
tall, and probably weighing 280 to 300 pounds, with a
shaved head and not an ounce of fat on him rose from
the bottom bunk, with a scowl on his face.

"So you're my new pussy, eh?   GOOD!   I wore out the
other one and they buried him yesterday, my friends,
tell me.  What's yer name?"  leaning down an inch from
Cain's face, his garlic breath and sweaty B.O. washing
over Cain.

"Cain -- Cain Han--"

"SHUT the FUCK  UP!  I just asked to be polite, I
don't fuckin' care WHAT name you went by, in here your
name is "Beast's Bitch."   Got it?"

Cain tried not to tremble, but he couldn't help it.
"Yeah, I got it," he answered meekly.

"You mean Yes SIR, I got it!    Say that!"

"Yes SIR, I got it!"  Cain responded.

The Beast towered over him and moved closer.  "That's
some better.  You'll really get much better with
practice.   And we're going to practice.  But you're
lucky."

"L - L - Lucky?"  Cain stammered.

"Yeah!  Other cons' bitches always got to watch their
rear, afraid some new man will take them away from the
one they're with and they'll have to be broken in all
over again.  Not YOU!  NO one would dare take away The
Beast's Bitch, so you're safe with me.   ALL you gotta
do is make me happy."

Cain crawled up into the top bunk and lay there till
dinner, trying not to think of how The Beast wanted to
be made happy.   He may have dozed off, as the next
thing he knew, The Beast had picked him off the top
bunk with one hand, and was lowering him to stand on
the cell floor.

"Come on, Honey.  Let's wash you up so you look nice.
All the others are going to meet my new wife at
dinner, tonight."

Cain's wildest fears were confirmed!  The Beast tidied
him up, washed his face and combed his hair, then
stood back, "There, that's about all we can do.  Don't
worry, I think you look nice, and we'll have fifteen
years together, 'cause I'm a Lifer."

Cain started to pass out at that thought, but The
Beast was very observant and grabbed him, sat him on
the lower bunk and got a cup of water for him.

"Don't worry, Honey, I'll be gentle the first time or
two, then you'll get so you really like it and want it
all the time."

Cain shuddered internally, with a cold spreading
through him.  How could he survive fifteen years in
here?  How could he even survive tonight?

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

It seems like Cain will get what he accused Ralph, Bob
and Greg of, or possibly he secretly wanted to do it,
himself.  Will he survive?  Will they be a happy
couple?  What if The Beast gets upset with him, or
tired of him???  Stay tuned.   More to cum.   Send
comments to  nailsb69@hotmail.com  If you want to
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