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COLLEGE BOY IN PRISON by Throne Everything had been going great for Sammy. He was starting college, with courses in art and poetry, and still hadn't decided what his major would be. His jet-setting parents lived on the opposite coast and honestly didn't have much to do with him except to pay his bills. So he had stayed briefly with his Uncle John, a tall dignified man, until the first semester began at the nearby college. While he was on campus he met a guy his own age, Ray, who had recruited him to help get some criminal types arrested. Sammy was impressed by the opportunity and jumped right in, especially because all he had to do was pass information along to the police. That led to a half dozen arrests... and then everything fell apart. Someone planted drugs in Sammy's car and an anonymous tip led to his arrest. It turned out that Ray was an alias for someone and he had just been using Sammy. The police pointed out that with the dealers who had been arrested no longer on the street, it would be easy for someone else to take their place and the logical suspect was... Sammy. There was a rushed hearing and he was unable to offer any defense. After some legal moves initiated by his Uncle in an attempt to keep him free, he was still sentenced to jail time. That was a big enough shock but then he learned that he would be in the same facility as the half dozen criminals he had snitched on. When Sammy was taken to Hardesty Penitentiary, he was still in a daze from everything that had happened. His Uncle John had promised to continue doing everything he could but made it plain that he held out little hope. Once inside the prison, Sammy was taken to a small bare room and told to strip. He hated to be seen naked, as he was small and slender, pale and soft. His light blond hair was collar length and his long lashes drew attention to his large blue eyes. But what really embarrassed him was his almost total lack of body hair and the size of his genitals. He had only a few golden curls at his crotch, above his tiny penis and balls. The doctor eyed his miniature male parts with open curiosity. He said, "I've never seen anything so small." Sammy explained, "I have some kind of hormone imbalance." His voice was timid and weak. "Well, son, that's not going to make your stay here any easier. You should have thought things through before you got yourself into so much trouble." The young man wanted to protest his innocence but he knew it was too late for that. His only hope at the moment was his Uncle. The doctor gave him a cursory examination and sent him to the next phase of his admission, which was for him to get his prison uniform. He saw one of the orderlies handling the clothing, wearing a blue shirt and grey pants, along with plain black shoes. But what he handed to Sammy was something different. The orderly said, "Sorry, kid, but we don't have much in your size. This is some stuff from the last shrimp we had here. He was a sissy and re-worked his clothes in the sewing room. It was part of one of those weird experimental programs they're always using. Sissies get to dress like sissies." The hard-faced man snickered as Sammy held up the garments. It was the same shirt, but the sleeves had been removed and the tails cut off, with two long strips left hanging. The orderly explained that Sammy had to tie those strips together, which made the shirt resemble a girl's abbreviated top. The pants were barely there, having been reduced to a pair of short-shorts. It took a struggle to get them on and, once they were in place, they hugged his butt and showed off how little he had between his legs. Instead of shoes, he was given a pair of slippers that looked more appropriate for a ballet dancer than a convict. Sammy nervously ran his delicate fingers through his hair. He caught his reflection in a nearby mirror and gasped. Oh no! He looked like some kind of swishy girly boy. In his whispery voice he begged the orderly to find him something else, but was told that he was stuck with what he had been given. "Don't worry," the orderly said with a smirk. "You have some friends on the inside who requested that I find something extra nice for you to wear. It's some guys you know. Well, maybe you don't know them, but you put them here." Feeling sick inside, Sammy was marched off by a guard, who took him through double security gates and into the cell block. As he was walked along the concrete floor, prisoners came to the fronts of their cells and stood there, gripping the bars, leering at him. There were whistles and catcalls. But the guard took him all the way to the end where there was a day room. Inside, six angry young men waited. Irrationally, Sammy tried to run away, but the door was already locked behind him. He stood with his back to it, eyes wide with terror, as the vengeful guys closed in on him. The guard said, "I have to take a break, fellows. That'll give you time to get acquainted. Which is good because Sammy here is going to be sharing a cell with one of you. If you all agree, maybe we can partner him up with each of you in turn. You know, so you can see who he's best suited for as a cellmate." The guys all thanked the guard, who effortlessly pushed Sammy out of the way and exited the room, laughing to himself. After the door was closed, the angry group stood there sneering at their target. All of them had facial hair -- closely trimmed mustaches and beards -- or at least heavy stubble. Their hair was regulation short, though Sammy had been exempted from that rule. One of them grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him to the center of the room. "Well," he said with venom in his tone. "It looks like Sammy the snitch is going to become Sammy the bitch." "Yeah," said another. "He sure as hell has the look for it." Sammy shook his head in desperation. "No," he said, sounding as helpless as he felt. "You don't understand. I was set up. R... really." They formed a circle around him. A hand grabbed his bottom. When he lurched forward, another hand cupped his crotch and gave it a squeeze. He whimpered and his lower lip trembled. "What's the matter, Sammy? Or should we call you Samantha? Yeah, that fits you better. Are you upset because you don't have any make-up to use? Is that it? Do you want to look like an even bigger fag before we start to train you? Hmmm?" Blinking back tears, Sammy said, "Honest, I didn't mean to get any of you into trouble." "No, you just meant to rat us out and have us sent here. No trouble. Not for you. Except that now you're here with us, and we're going to turn you into the cellblock prom queen. You owe us plenty. And you can start by giving each of us a sweet suck-off." The speaker unbuttoned his fly. "I c... can't," Sammy babbled. "I'm not like that. I'm s... straight. I like girls." From behind, one of them reached around, undid his pants, and yanked them down to mid-thigh. Sammy's shamefully small penis was exposed. He yelped and tried to cover himself with his hands, but his arms were yanked painfully behind him. The guys pointed and laughed. After a minute, the backs of his knees were pressed against, making them buckle. Suddenly he was on his knees, his bare bottom on display, his face level with all those crotches. The convict who had opened his fly bared his cock, which was several times larger than Sammy's. He stepped closer, so that it was right in front of the college boy's face, near enough for Sammy to smell its musky scent. A hand slapped the back of Sammy's head. "Open your mouth," he was ordered. "Unless you want to have your teeth knocked out." To make that threat clearer, a fist came around from behind and hovered alongside his jaw. Sniffling and blinking, Sammy surrendered to the inevitable and opened his mouth. Wide. The guy in front of him rubbed his cock against Sammy's lower face. The proffered organ began to grow. Holding Sammy's head with both hands, his tormentor repeated the rubbing until his member was fully erect. A drop of clear fluid appeared at the opening on its tip. He told the kneeling student, "I'm leaking, Samantha. Why don't you be a good girl and lick that sticky stuff off the end of my prick?" Sammy's tongue came out slowly, reluctantly. He used it to clean away the drop of wetness. The figure looming over him said his name was Trace and that he was ready to start collecting his debt from the new bitch. He shoved the knob of his organ between Sammy's parted lips and moved it around. "Let's go, stupid," Trace said hotly. "I know you're a dumb blond, but you can do better than that. A wuss like you must know how. Suck, swirl and swallow. Now get busy or else get hurt." Tentatively, Sammy closed his lips around the shaft and ran his tongue against the underside of the penetrating member. Trace sighed and squeezed Sammy's ears. Under the threat of physical abuse, Sammy began to suck actively. Trace pushed himself deeper and then pulled back, using that vulnerable mouth as if it was a pussy. He pumped Sammy's face for a minute and then stopped. Understanding what was expected of him, the captive resumed sucking. He pulled his face back, let the organ pop free, and then licked the head. Then he took it in again and, remembering the instructions, swirled his tongue around the knob. Trace grunted his approval. Sammy tasted more of that thick liquid leaking out, knowing it was just a small prelude to what would follow in the end. Trace gave him a few more orders, but mostly just moaned and growled. He buried himself in to his heavy balls, his thick pubic bush against Sammy's nose. The kneeling boy felt warm meat in his throat. He struggled not to gag. With an effort, he managed to accept the deep throating. Trace pulled out and made him lick his balls worshipfully. Then the rough convict crammed his tool back into the cooperative mouth and gave several hard pumps. Sammy was disgusted but could do nothing about it. Trace pulled back until only the thick head was still inside, then barked at his slave to suck him hard. The new slave complied. The shameful performance went on for several more minutes and then Trace exploded, sending jet after jet of salty spunk into Sammy's mouth. Because the assailant had pulled most of the way out, his ejaculate hit the roof of Sammy's mouth and covered his tongue. Some ran down his throat and he felt queasy. This couldn't be happening. He wanted to be back in his poetry class, reading verses of love and thinking romantic thoughts about girls. Instead, he had been turned into a sex toy for a roomful of vindictive, horny young men who had a grudge against him. He gulped down the generous serving of slime and, against his will but eager not to upset Trace, sucked out still more. At last Trace slid free, only to wipe himself off on Sammy's nose and lips. "Hey," said another of the guys. "Look at how pink her cheeks got. She must really get off on gobbling bones." To the still kneeling student he said, "I won't let you go hungry for long, Samantha sissy. Get a load of what Hank has for you." He brought out a penis as long and thick as Trace's, though not as clean. When he saw Sammy wrinkle his nose at the smell, he commanded their prey to give it a thorough tongue bath. Sammy made a retching sound in the back of his throat but forced himself to begin the disgusting task. Hank urged him on with groans of pleasure and tugs on his flaxen hair. Tears ran down Sammy's flushed cheeks as he gave his second blow job in a row. To make it last longer, Hank would accept some sucking and then switch back to being lapped. He was soon on the verge of finishing and sank himself into Sammy's throat. The suffering boy's only consolation, if you could call it that, was that the load of sperm bypassed his mouth and went straight to his stomach. "Damn," Hank said with satisfaction. "We've got ourselves a real homo cum dump. Don't you think so, Ken?" Ken, who was quite muscular, got behind Sammy and hauled him to his feet. He said, "You know how you can tell he's a queer? Because he likes what he's doing." His fingers went to Sammy's nipples and began to play with them. Despite how upset he was, the unlucky boy felt a current of sexual energy travel downward, directly to his undersized dick. Though he tried to will it not to happen, Sammy's tiny excuse for a penis grew to its full unimpressive three-and-a-fraction-inch length. It was skinny, too. And the head tapered down to a point. The guys whooped with laughter at the size of his erection. Ken reached around and easily enclosed it with his large rough hand. Sammy squirmed. He blubbered and unintentionally rubbed his backside against the front of Ken's pants. All at once Sammy felt something growing against his butt. It was Ken's cock. The guy holding him turned Sammy around and gripped his narrow shoulders, forcing him down onto his knees once more. He made Sammy unbutton him and take out his cock, which was completely hard in seconds. He slapped the side of Sammy's face, and that was all the prompting needed. The kneeling student craned his neck and formed his lips into a ring, to run them up and down the rigid eight inches before him. After that one was done, the other three took their turns. By the end, Sammy was in a daze. They kept insisting that he was enjoying the oral orgy. When he tried to deny it, fingers would toy with his nipples again, bringing him back to erection. By the end he was uncertain himself whether he really was taking pleasure from this horrid ordeal, or if they were simply playing with his mind. When it was over his lips and chin were coated with male cream. He had no way to clean himself up, so that was how he remained while they jerked him upright and, with one supporting him on either side, led him back out onto the cellblock, feeling faint. This time the guys watching could see, unmistakably, what had happened. They taunted Sammy about his new role. Trace told them to call their sex toy Samantha, and they were happy to comply. He was pressed up against the bars of several cells, so that eager hands could grope him. His shorts were still at half mast, so everyone could see how poorly equipped he was. There was endless laughter and mocking comments. Sammy wept. His nose ran. His captors made him open his mouth and flick his tongue at sex-starved men. At last he reached the cell he would be sharing with one of the men he had sent here. It was Danzig (presumably a nickname), who had a shaved head and lots of tattoos. The door clanged shut behind them and the guard on duty grinned maliciously. Sammy couldn't understand why even the officials seemed to be part of this nightmare scenario. Could there be corruption inside a prison? He didn't have long to think about it, because Danzig grabbed him and stripped him naked. Then he handcuffed him to the bars with his arms stretched up high. Where had a prisoner gotten handcuffs? How could any of this be occurring? From the row of cells opposite came hollered comments. "Nice view." "Is that a dick or a clit between her legs?" "Hey, Danzig, are you going to feed her your rod?" To the last question, the tattooed ruffian answered, "Not right now. She already did me and the rest of my guys. She's a fast learner. But I'm going to have some fun with the bitch." With that he reached around and put a hand on Sammy's belly, his fingers alarmingly close to the cuffed one's crotch. Then Danzig drew back his other arm and swung hard, smacking that vulnerable bottom and making his target yank helplessly against his restraints. There was laughter and applause as the cruel young man continued to swat the unprotected flesh. Sammy danced and wailed, but the punishment continued. At the same time, Danzig lowered the hand in front and put his thumb and forefinger on Sammy's dick. Because the sissified college boy was jerking about so much, his member was stimulated and grew hard. The watchers saw how he was being aroused and made more heartless comments. "Looks like your princess likes what you're doing." "The little twinkle-toes sure moves pretty." "Look how red her face is getting. Just like I know her rump is." The spanking went on until Sammy was crying, tears streaming down his hot cheeks. At last Danzig relented and stepped back. His victim sobbed and tried to speak, but could only blubber. Poor Sammy felt horrible, having his buns tanned in front of all those staring cons. His knees buckled and he hung from the cuffs. Danzig lit up a cigar and puffed on it contentedly, proud of the pain and humiliation he had inflicted. "Please," he whispered to Danzig. "I still have that disgusting taste in my mouth. At least let me rinse and spit." "What?" Danzig pretended not to be able to hear him. "You'll have to speak up, sugar britches." He took a long draw on his cigar. Sammy calmed himself down as much as he could and, still sounding girly but talking louder, said, "I have that horrid flavor in my mouth. I have to do something to get rid of it. Please." Danzig flicked his stogie over a jar lid that served as an ashtray. He took a cigar stub from earlier in the day and held it up, where the other cons could see it but Sammy couldn't. He asked his prisoner, "So you want something to get rid of the taste of all that cum we shot into your mouth?" The suffering youth nodded and said, "Yes, please. Anything would be better than having it still on my tongue." "Sure," Danzig said agreeably. "I'm not a bad guy. Not really. I'll be happy to help you, Samantha. Try this." He squeezed Sammy's lower face with one hand, forcing his jaws apart, and used the other to shove the cigar end between his open lips. Then he shoved his mouth shut and held it that way, telling him, "Go on, honey. Chew that up and gulp it down, and I guarantee you won't be able to taste our sperm anymore." Sammy's eyes were wide as he realized what had happened. Gales of laughter assaulted his ears. Danzig's strong hands made sure he couldn't spit out the sickening piece of tobacco, which was growing wetter from his saliva, some of which ran down the back of his throat. Weeping, his penis still perversely erect, he began to masticate the stub. His throat constricted and his stomach heaved, but he kept on, knowing that Danzig would not relent. Sammy's nose ran as the first flakes of soggy tobacco entered his gullet and he made himself gulp them down. Not until it was all gone and his mouth tasted worse than before did his sadistic cellmate allow him to open his lips and draw a ragged breath. Danzig looked into his mouth and said, "Yuck. I wouldn't stick my cock in there now." Someone hollered, "I sure as hell would." "Tough," Danzig told him. "Because this he-whore is just for me and my pals. And if she doesn't act like the slut we know she is, we're going to bend her over and slam her ass, one after another, until her cherry is as popped as it can be." Moments later it was time for lights out. Sammy managed to get his legs straightened up and leaned against the cold bars, whimpering. Danzig goosed him hard and chortled at his ordeal. The shaven-headed brute pressed up against him and delivered a love bite to the neck, hard enough to make Sammy yelp. Danzig told him that it had left a vivid mark. He left Sammy where he was for the entire night, so that the helpless one had only short periods of fitful sleep. The threat of having them use him that other way haunted him until dawn. In the morning Danzig was gone and there was someone new in the cell with him. It was a man with long hair tied back with a bright yellow ribbon. He had a long face and beaky nose. His prison garb had been tailored but not as extremely as Sammy's. It had only been tightened in strategic areas to show off his flat belly and the cheeks of his ass. He had the key to the cuffs and tenderly unlocked them and helped Sammy to the lower bed, which was just a hard shelf with a thin mattress on it. "Poor baby," the newcomer said sympathetically. "I'm Mimi and I'll be helping to freshen you up." Right then a guard approached the cell and held out a pen and single sheet of paper. He barked, "Hey, Cinderella. Sign this. It's an early release form." Sammy couldn't believe what he was hearing. He gladly accepted the pen and signed at the bottom, not even bothering to read it. The guard took it back, a smirk on his face. As he turned away, Mimi asked the man, "Hey, handsome, did my little sister here just sign up for the dress therapy program?" "That's right, queenie." As the guard strode away, Sammy gave Mimi a questioning look. She explained, "You just agreed to participate in one of their experimental programs. Which gets them extra money from the state. It's for us girls who like to look nice. Now you can wear whatever and it's okay. Good program. I've been on it since I arrived." "B... but," Sammy objected. "I don't WANT to look like this." "Well, you can tell them that, except that it would probably get you into deep shit with the administration. And the guys who own you -- what are there, six of them? -- want you to be the best eye candy you can. You know, to get them more turned on, sort of like they were getting to use a real girl." Sammy shuddered. "But I don't WANT to turn them on. I want to get out of here. And meet a nice girl. And start a relationship." "Honey, that's not going to happen anytime soon. Thought being in the program might actually get a few months knocked off your sentence. By the way, how long are you in for?" "I... don't even know. Nobody told me. But my Uncle is trying to get me out." Mimi shrugged. "Best of luck with that. In the meantime, you need to get a touch-up. And get rid of that sad face. If you keep those guys happy, they'll protect you from the rest of the animals in here, which is a good thing, unless you're into 20 man gang bangs." "Th... that could happen? To me?" "That and worse. Hell, they might give you to Bear. You don't want that, sweetness. So just sit back and let Mimi work her magic. If I do a good enough job, one of your guys might even let ME suck his cock. That would be nice." "You mean they'd do that to you, too?" "I hope. But with the difference that I want it. You, I can certainly see, aren't a member of the Man Handlers Club." She sighed theatrically. "Isn't life funny?" "So they want me instead of you?" "Well, you DO have those willowy arms and legs. And that butt with just enough extra chubbiness to make it appealing. Plus an innocent face, small dick, and blond eyelashes to die for. So yeah, maybe you'll attract more hard cocks than me with my hatchet face, bony figure, and big feet." Mimi shook his head. "But at least I'm the Mistress of Make-overs around here. So let's get to work. Trust in Mimi, little one." Sammy let out a long breath and resigned himself to whatever this strange man-woman was about to do to him. At least Mimi didn't want to use him or hurt him. With practiced hands, Mimi went to work, taking cosmetics from a zipper bag and working on Sammy's eyes, cheeks, and mouth. Then she began to braid his hair. It wasn't thick enough for fat braids, so instead Mimi created a series of narrow ones. Then, from the bag, she produced a colorful scarf which she tied around Sammy's head, leaving the braids hanging free. Mimi made an air kiss an inch from her subject's lips and stepped back to observe her handiwork. She smiled with self-congratulations. "Nice job, if I say so myself," she decided. "Now let's see if I can get a mirror in here, so you can look at what I'm seeing." She called to the guard for what she wanted and he returned with a hand mirror, reminding her that even that wasn't allowed, at least not officially. Sammy wanted to ask about that, how the rules seemed to be treated laxly much of the time. But he was distracted from the thought as Mimi turned the mirror and held it before his face. Looking back at him from the glass was a pretty girl, her blue eyes expertly brought out, cheekbones accented, and lips made to seem fuller. Sammy's mouth dropped open and so did the mouth of the sexy female, because it was him. He turned to Mimi, as if seeking an explanation for the startling transformation. Mimi just grinned and patted him on the shoulder. She said, "Now let's get you back into that mini version of a prison uniform. Since you signed that form, no one can take it away from you. And there might be some lovely panties in your future. How I envy you, Samantha." "I..." Sammy understood that there was no point in repeating his objections. Mimi had about as much clout as himself around here. He did his best to display a smile of his own and said, "Thank you, Mimi. I hope that maybe what you did will make my life a little less... difficult." "I hope so too, pretty one, but it probably won't. Or maybe they'll hold back some, just so they don't make a mess of that make-up. You take care of yourself, honeybun. Do whatever you have to, to keep those studs happy, and maybe you'll get out of this with all your teeth and a nose that hasn't been broken. It'd be a shame to ruin such a perfect face." Danzig returned and Mimi, giving Sammy a final wistful look, departed. The two cellmates were together for only a short time, however. As had been stated before, Sammy would be traded around from one member of the group to another. He was moved, and Trace doubled up with Danzig. Sammy's next cellmate was Tony, a swarthy type who wore his black hair combed straight back and held in place by some greasy preparation. He had on regulation pants but, instead of a blue prison shirt, a black tank top. A long vertical scar marred the right side of his ruggedly handsome face. Sammy remembered sucking his cock the night before, and how the large head had almost choked him. Tony announced, "I hope that lipstick is smear-proof, because I want to have some fun with your mouth." Remembering Mimi's advice, Sammy tilted his head down and looked up at Tony, hoping to soften him. Instead, the doe-eyed effort inflamed the viral male's libido. He reached for his fly but then got a better idea and ordered Sammy to unbutton it. Again hoping to mollify his new cellmate, Sammy sank to his knees and began unfastening the buttons. He could feel Tony's cock getting hard under the material. Soon it was free and, without being told, Sammy took it in his mouth. As he gave it an experimental suck, his stomach turned over. This was so awful. Tony just laughed and enjoyed being mouthed for several minutes. Then he let his pants drop to the floor. He pushed Sammy's face away, so that the feminized student gazed up in surprise. Tony told him, "The lesson for today is Rimming 101. Just like a college course, so it should be easy for you." "Wh... what's that? What's... rimming?" "A rim job? You don't know? A faggot like you?" Instead of risking Tony's anger, Sammy just said, in his meekest voice, "I'm sorry. Just tell me what you want." Tony told him, in the crudest terms possible. Sammy gagged and his face grew even paler than usual. He tried to think of something to say to get out of doing that awful thing, but Tony was already turning his back to him. Sammy forced himself to put his hands on Tony's hairy thighs and push his face between those firm buttocks. He extended his tongue, found its target, and began to make small circles with the tip. The demanding man laughed and said, "I can tell that you've done this before, Samantha. But I like that 'shy and innocent' act you put on. You should do that for the other guys, after I tell them how good you are and they all want some of this. Now get your tongue inside and give me some of that, too. And reach around so you can stroke me, nice and slow. Playing the old rusty trombone. You must really get off on this, pansy." The prison continued to move Sammy daily, from cell to cell, giving all of his half dozen tormentors another chance to enjoy him. The poor college student had a busy schedule of licking balls, rimming, wanking and sucking. By the second week he could think of nothing else. Because doing a good job kept him from harm, he strived to satisfy them all. In his mind the association grew between being a cooperative sissy and avoiding pain. He still hated it but doing it well, rather than avoiding it, was his primary goal. It started to seem somehow to be... his purpose. At the same time, the program which Sammy had been enrolled in began to yield more results. He was given feminine clothes to wear, not just prison garb that had been modified, but actual camisoles, panties, shoes with one inch heels, and more. Mimi was thrilled on his behalf. The womanly man couldn't get enough of touching the soft items and putting them on Sammy, as if dressing up a doll. "Oh, sweetie, these are perfect for your body. The guys are going to go absolutely crazy when they see you. I just hope Bear doesn't get a look at the new you." There was that name again. Sammy had seen the man in question, a six foot two mass of muscle with a rugged face and a thick moustache that reached down to his square jaw. Everyone deferred to him with fear and respect. Naturally, he had seen Sammy too, but hadn't reacted openly. What he might be thinking was another matter. The young man could only worry about what might happen if Bear desired him. The six guys who currently 'owned' Sammy might not be enough to protect him. Mimi finished fussing with her charge and stepped back, sighing deeply and fluttering her hands. "You are like candy in a candy shop window. So tempting. And none of those studs are on a diet." What she had dressed him in was a clinging top with spaghetti straps and lace where it ended, just above his navel. It was peach colored and went well with his shorts, brief ones in off-white. They allowed the bottom of each of his butt cheeks to peek out invitingly. In his mind he could already feel hands patting him and fingers pinching. Even Mimi couldn't resist giving him a sisterly squeeze on one cheek before she let him leave. He walked in front of cell after cell, listening to catcalls and lewd suggestions. But his new attitude asserted itself and, even though he didn't want to attract that sort of attention, he pulled back his narrow shoulders and raised his small chin, then added some extra swish to his walk. It gave him a sense of empowerment, despite what it might lead to. He returned to the cell he was currently occupying, where Danzig waited. He was stunned by Sammy's appearance and the college youth gave him a bravura performance, slinking into the small space, draping himself over the lower bunk, and licking his lips meaningfully. The dangerous man grinned and reached for him. Sammy held his hands over his chest demurely, like a virgin protecting her breasts. That only fired up Danzig more. As Sammy slid off the bed and got onto his knees, he looked up helplessly and said, "Please, Sir. Don't make me suck your big hard cock." At the same time he was unbuttoning Danzig's trousers. "I've never done that. I'm not that kind of girl." What followed was less like giving a blow job and more like having his face raped, but Sammy kept his control and used his hands to gently hold the furiously pumping man's heavy balls. The encounter ended with Danzig yelling loudly and spurting a huge load down Sammy's throat. It was disgusting for the kneeling prisoner, but he considered it a victory because he had directed the action, at least in part. He knew Danzig would spread the word about his virgin persona and that it would soon be in demand, just like his talents for worshipping ass. The lines between being a victim and willing participant, even instigator, were blurring. It was somewhat like the Stockholm Syndrome, where captives developed feelings for their captors. Sammy was caught up in his new persona and, because he spent so much time with those half dozen convicts, he didn't have a chance to think about what was happening to his mind, only about the next rigid prick. By the end of six weeks, Sammy was doing his own make-up and picking his own outfit-of-the-day from his growing wardrobe. He was the talk of Hardesty Penitentiary or, as he now knew it was called, Hard Time. For him it was more like Hard Cock Time. So when he got called to one of the counselor's offices, he stayed in his Samantha role, almost proud of how much notice it got him. He sat himself on a hard chair and crossed his legs prettily. Across from him was a very attractive woman, middle-aged and wearing a jacket and skirt set. She gave a welcoming smile, which Samantha returned. "The reason you're here today," she began, "is because there has been a change in your case." Sammy sat up straighter. Was he being released? The woman went on, "It's not exactly good news. There have been questions about your testimony and, in light of the charges brought against you, it has been ruled inadmissible. Therefore..." She paused for effect. "...the six young men who were convicted based on that testimony are going to be released." He was stunned. That meant he wouldn't have their protection. He would be taken out of his familiar rounds of providing them with all the services they craved. He was confused. After giving him a moment to absorb that, the woman said, "There's someone here today who has been working to get you the best new situation possible." She looked at a side door and said, "Sir, please come in." It was his Uncle John, looking as suave and confident as ever, but also wearing a serious face. He nodded to Sammy, took a close look at the young man's feminized appearance, and sat in a chair alongside his. Sammy was suddenly ashamed. In this changed environment, being Samantha wasn't his way of coping, it was a shameful denial of his maleness. But his Uncle acted accepting, so he relaxed slightly. Without preamble, John said, "You know what having those six prisoners released means. You will have no barrier between yourself and the general population here. Not unless we find you a new... sponsor." He took a deep breath. "So what I've arranged is to have to doubled up with a convict who is more than capable of fending off any... suitors." Sammy sighed in relief. In his wispy Samantha voice he said, "Thank you, Uncle John. Have you had any luck getting my sentence shortened or..." The capable man held up a hand for silence. "You should know that I've done everything I could to determine what happens to you. But there are limits to the influence I can exert. Still, I have been able to have you assigned a cellmate who will be able to shield you from... certain situations. His name is..." He turned to the counselor. She consulted her computer screen and said, "Mr. Behr. Donald Behr. I'm sure he'll be a reliable... protector... for you, Samantha." Sammy felt his muscles unknotting. What a relief. But then he had another thought. He wanted to know, "Is Mr. Behr know by another name? On the cellblock?" "Let's see. Known nicknames -- 'Bear'. And I can see why they would call him that, judging from his height and weight. Oh my." Stark terror seized the college boy. He was going to be put into a cell... a cage... with the notorious Bear. It would be better to still be with those sex-hungry guys. His mind retreated into the security of the familiar. The way one of them had wanted him to beg to be allowed to suck cock. Or how another expected to have his balls held inside Samantha's warm mouth. The details of their cocks filled his thoughts. This one so thick and veiny. That one with its extreme upward curve. He was dreaming of their familiar tastes when a voice registered. He was being spoken to. "...all work out fine," his Uncle was saying. "But right now I have to get going. I have a very important appointment." "Yes," Sammy whispered, still in a daze. "Of course, Uncle John. I understand. Um, thank you for... trying." "No problem," he said as he stood. Sammy was taken to Mimi's cell, where his growing wardrobe was kept. Mimi insisted on spraying flowery perfume on all of his girly clothes. He told her what was about to happen and her eyes went wide. "Bear?" Mimi said, one hand on her flat chest. "You are in for it now, sugar lump. My, my, my. So let's get you into something extra pretty. Maybe that'll make things go smoother." The college convict's knees trembled as Mimi went through some of the cardboard boxes his clothes were kept in. She spoke to herself as she admired each item and put several aside. After she made her final choices she turned her attention back to Sammy. "All right," she said to him. "Let's see if we can tame that Bear." When she was done, Sammy's non-athletic figure was covered by a mini- dress that had been altered so it ended above his waist. Below that he had on thong panties that showed off his bottom and made it plain how small his genitals were. Both those items were pink. His legs were encased in fishnet stockings and on his feet he wore glittery red shoes with three inch heels, real hooker footwear. His hands were shaking, so Mimi resumed her duty as make-up expert. She gave him the full treatment, making his appear drag-queen-trashy. "I know your innocent look scores lots of points, but I want to get Bear turned on right away, so he doesn't have to think too much before he acts. I know it's not what you want, candy pants, but it might save you from some nasty mistreatment." She gave him an air kiss and said, "Let's get you down there. Usually I'm in favor of making a man wait, but when he's capable of putting you in the hospital with one punch, well..." She let that possibility hang in the air as she escorted Samantha out of the cell and down the walkway, toward the waiting giant. As they passed other cons, the men made growling ursine sounds, which heightened Sammy's fear. When they got there, Bear's cell door had been slid back, probably as part of another of the institution's many experimental programs. He had a single bed and a sturdy wooden chair, both of them ample for man of his dimensions. Mimi gave her charge a light shove to propel him into the cell. Bear was standing there, towering over Sammy. His large hand reached out and effortlessly closed the bars. Sammy considered sinking to his knees at once, but was too afraid that it might be the wrong thing to do, that it could anger the hulking figure who peered down at him with interest. He had on sweatpants and a sleeveless undershirt. "Seen you around," Bear's deep voice rumbled. "Liked what I saw." Samantha rubbed her hands nervously over her thighs and dared to look up at him, through the thick lashes Mimi had applied over her natural blond ones. "Th... thank you, Sir." "Oh, we don't have to be fancy. Just call me Bear. Or Daddy, if you want. Now come to Poppa and let me get a feel." Walking carefully on the heels, hips rolling, Samantha stepped close to him. He put one broad paw on the side of her face and rubbed it appreciatively. His palm was rough but his fingers were gentle as he found her ear and stroked it. By reflex she moved closer and pressed herself against him. He smiled and ran his other hand down her back, to her bottom, where it lingered. The hand that had been on her ear dipped below the hem of that revealing dress and fingered his tiny penis through the thin panties. Samantha shivered with strange sensations. She had never been touched like that. "You're so tiny down there," Bear observed. "Just a itty bitty pee pee." In a strained voice, a mere wisp, Samantha explained, "I have a glandular condition..." He shushed her and said it didn't matter. "But I'm betting you ain't never had any regular sex experiences... with girls. Cause of your baby dick and all. Right?" "Y... yes, Sir. I mean, yes, B... Bear." "So I've got me a virgin." He chuckled drily. "Damn. Suppose I'll have to teach you to like it. To like what's going to happen." His fingers were still moving down there, making her squirm. Bear finally stopped that and took Samantha by the hand. He walked to the chair and sat, then told her to get out of the panties. She nervously obeyed. He said, keeping his voice even, that she should untie the string of his sweatpants and pull them down. She did and got her first look at his whopper of a cock. It was still soft and at least eight thick inches. He said considerately, "Don't worry, Doll. It doesn't get much bigger. Some, but not too much. Now go on and touch it." Samantha's hands looked so small as she reached out and fondled that impressive piece of meat. It did grow but, as he said, only added another inch or so, along with some girth, plus the head swelled. She swallowed, her throat dry. Bear toyed with her nipples through the fabric of the dress. He easily turned her around and picked her up, drawing her toward him and seating her on his lap, body to body. Samantha looked down and witnessed that immense cock sticking out between her own thighs, dwarfing her miniature member. Bear turned her head to the side and put himself face-to-face with her. He pulled her lips against his and was kissing her, his tongue invading her mouth and probing hungrily. None of the other guys had kissed her. But she was trained to respond to any physical contact, so she thrust her own tongue against his and gave as good as she got. Sammy was disgusted. Samantha was enthralled. The kiss went on and on while Bear's hands explored her body. Then he reached over to his bunk and took a can of something that was sitting there. He gave it to her. A greasy smell came from the container. "Bacon fat," he explained. "Kind of hard to get proper lube in here. But you just take a big old gob of that and put it in your mouth, then get it on my stick. I don't want it to hurt you, not too much, when I put it in you." Oh no! He was going to -- penetrate -- her. None of the others had done that. For some reason, as if under orders, they had limited themselves to taking advantage of only her hands and mouth. But now... those intimidating nine inches... were going to... enter her. Well conditioned as she was, Samantha immediately got off his lap, used two fingers to get a generous portion of the smelly stuff, and put it onto her tongue. Ugh. She sank gracefully to her knees, aware that this was a test she couldn't afford to fail. At once her lips were around the thick knob of his tool, coating it with the slippery substance. She got her fingers into the action, making sure to cover most of his pole. Then, with the taste thick in her mouth, she leaned back and gazed at him expectantly. He gestured for her to stand and turn, which she did. His hands clamped onto her waist and raised her without straining. Bear positioned his new cellmate over the business end of his prick and got it against her tightness. He told her to take a deep breath and then he brought her down far enough to cram the head of his penis inside her. She made a muffled squealing sound while he soothed her wordlessly. "It'll just hurt at first," he said. "Sorry I'm so big. Once it's all inside you, you're going to like it, cute stuff." The college boy whimpered as he was gradually lowered onto that thick shaft. He felt himself being stretched. It was painful but then, when he was fully impaled, the initial pain subsided somewhat and there was a strange sense of... you could say fulfillment, because he was fully filled... or maybe just rightness. It was in some way what he had been headed toward since he got to prison. Once he had taken it all in, Bear reached around and began to play with his nipples. Sammy moaned, but not entirely from discomfort. An element of pleasure had joined what he was feeling. He squirmed and that made Bear moan, too, and the big man's reaction was entirely from pleasure. He kept the young con fidgeting his bottom, so that it continued to massage that king-sized cock. One of Bear's paw-like hands moved lower and found Sammy's immature penis. Those fingers were thick and blunt but nevertheless skilled. They worked on the short length and made it feel like it never had before. Sammy whimpered with need. He reached up and put one hand over Bear's much bigger one, pressing it against his pale hairless chest. Bear grinned, happy that his efforts were yielding the desired results. He kept his fingers moving, driving the young man to greater stimulation. Sammy panted and began to move his bottom purposefully, not wanting this to stop. It was partly uncomfortable but increasingly stimulating. He arched his back and turned his face toward Bear's. The powerful man pressed his lips to Sammy's and slipped his tongue into the opened mouth, not caring about the bacon grease or that Sammy had been swallowing him. A long kiss followed while Sammy rubbed his palm against his captor's stubble-covered cheek. Bear shifted his hands, taking Sammy by the ribcage and moving him up and down, giving him a ride on that rigid pole. The former college student gasped and said, his voice high and strained, "Yessss." He didn't want to be a love toy to this dangerous man, but he felt protected, cared for and... against his will... more turned on than he had ever been before. His tongue ran around his parted lips and he muttered disjointed syllable. Somewhere among them Bear heard him utter "Please" and "More". That was good enough for the dominant convict. He moved his boy up and down the full length of his invading cock, bringing himself closer and closer to a finish. But then he slowed the pace, prolonging the experience for both of them. Sammy began to babble softly, in a weird rapture, his eyes unfocused. After a time that neither of them could measure, Bear ejaculated violently, his muscular body shaken by spasms. Sammy bit his lower lip and felt something like an orgasm of his own, though it was mental and not physical. Hot creamy wetness was squeezed out around Bear's intruding member. Sammy didn't care. He was earning a type of reward of which he couldn't have conceived previously. He was emotionally complete in some new and unexpected way. His head lolled back and Bear kissed him deeply once more. They stayed like that for several more minutes before the big man eased out of his new lover. The next day Sammy paid his masterful cellmate back with a long unhurried blowjob, accompanied by enthusiastic rimming. He didn't fully understand why he was doing it, why he was behaving like he was gay when he still considered himself straight. At one level he was shamed but, at another, he was defiantly determined to continue. He made sure to act as feminine as he could around Bear. When he picked what he was going to wear, Sammy made himself seductive. He was careful with his make-up and hair, wanting to be alluring but not trashy. Bear responded appropriately, with unbridled lust. He used his cellmate every day, though he didn't penetrate him every time, not wanting to damage the young man. Sammy understood that and it gave him even more motivation to thank the man he thought o as he owner by serving him with hands and mouth. Their life together went on like that for two months, with Sammy entering his new role more and more completely. Then a guard came to their cell and said Sammy was wanted in the conference room. The college boy looked at his owner uncertainly. Bear grunted and told him to go, that he had no choice. Reluctantly, with several backward glances, Sammy left with the uniformed man. When they got to the conference room, the young convict was surprised to find his Uncle John there with the Warden. Sammy sat in a hard wooden chair and smoothed the short skirt he was wearing across his slender thighs. He patted the front of his pale pink blouse and made sure his hair was still neatly held back by the large floppy bow he had put in it that morning. "Well," said the Warden. "You certainly have adapted well to our dress therapy program, Samantha. That's one of the reasons your Uncle is here. You've been a model prisoner, young man, and John here has been working to get you accepted into our sponsored release program." He turned to John and suggested, "Why don't you tell him what's going to happen?" "I'll be happy to." To his nephew his said, "Samantha, you're going home with me. I'll be your Sponsor and, so long as I'm satisfied with your behavior and see you making progress, you won't have to come back here. You'll continue your dress therapy and continue to get in touch with the side of yourself that you're displaying so successfully. The real you. Naturally, I'll have to have control over your legal and financial matters, so there'll be some papers for you to sign before you can be released, but I'm sure you'll be happy to do that." "I'm sure too," said the Warden with an understanding smile as he slid several documents toward Sammy. "You wouldn't want to have to spend any more time than necessary here." Sammy's expression was uncertain. He had grown comfortable and secure in that cell with Bear. But at the same time, a part of him wanted to return to being straight, not dressing this way and wearing cosmetics. Maybe he could go back to college soon. Perhaps meet a nice girl and reassert his heterosexuality. Sure, he told himself as he accepted the proffered pen. That's what I really want. He signed where indicated and was soon ready to be taken home. It was almost unreal. He thought he should go back to the cell and say goodbye to Bear, but now the idea of being fondled and kissed and... everything... by him had become frightening, like it was in the beginning. His Uncle had thoughtfully brought a coat for him, but when Sammy accepted it, he realized it was a girl's garment, with a fur collar. Well, his Uncle had said he would be continuing his dress therapy. But of course, Sammy assured himself, that would only be temporary. He would soon be wearing male clothes again. Wasn't that what he wanted? Before he could think about it further, he was being walked out of the room and down a long unfamiliar corridor. Soon he was leaving the building. Uncle John linked arms with him and led him to a long black car. The driver got out. He was tall and obviously powerful. He opened the rear door and John ushered his nephew inside, then got in alongside him. The drive was uneventful, with Sammy staring out the window at the passing scenery, not quite believing that he was free. Once they reached the house, his Uncle reminded him that he would be spending his time there. "You definitely can't go into the city. Those guys you sent to prison would love to get their hands on you. And the arrangement I came to is like probation, with me making regular reports on your behavior." They went inside. Uncle John helped him off with the coat, like a gentleman assisting a lady. He placed a hand on Sammy's shoulder and steered him into the library, where he sat him on a wingback chair before taking a place behind his expensive desk. In a small voice, Sammy wanted to know, "When you said about controlling my finances, Uncle John, what exactly did you mean? My savings and trust fund and investments..." He meekly let the words hang in the air. His Uncle finished for him, "... are totally mine to regulate. I can spend whatever I deem correct for any purpose I choose." Sammy found the courage, shaky though it was, to say, "But that's sort of... unfair. I mean, it's MY money." "Dear girl," his Uncle said with quiet aplomb, "compared to my fortune, your money has no meaning. Even so, I will be taking care of it absolutely. At the moment and for the foreseeable future, you are penniless. And I intend to keep you that way." That was upsetting enough that the newly free young man said, "But you can't. I mean..." With icy certainty his Uncle told him, "I can and will. You are utterly under my thumb, Samantha." "But... it's just..." He began to quiver. "This whole therapy thing, the clothes, the cosmetics..." "Will also continue. And I'm even going to assist you in further exploring your newly discovered feminine role in personal relationships." "What do you mean?" "I mean, girl, that I'm going to make sure you go on providing sexual favors to male partners. Mainly to ME. That is, unless you want to go back to prison, where you would be released into the general population, without Bear or anyone else to look after you. Now, is that what you want? Or would you rather stay here and make sure I'm happy and that I don't give you any bad reports?" Sammy's world, so recently beginning to rebuild itself, crashed down around him. He said desperately, "Uncle John, I can't do anything... like I did in prison... with you." "Fine. I'll call the Warden right now and arrange for your return to Hardesty." "I... it isn't..." Sammy closed his mouth. "I'm sorry, Uncle John. I didn't mean to upset you. Of course I'll cooperate. And not give you any reason to turn in a bad report. Or to call the Warden. Please don't call him." "Did you say you're ready to crawl over here on your hands and knees? To go under my desk and undo my trousers? To demonstrate how well you've learned to use your mouth? To show me what you can do when you get your tongue near my ass? And to ask me with lots of sugar in your voice to please take you from behind? Is that what you just said?" Sammy's heart was beating double-time as he answered in a barely audible whisper, "Yes, Uncle John, that's exactly what I said." And then Sammy slid off the chair, got onto his hands and knees, and began moving toward his new guardian. Sammy went into the kneehole of the desk and his fingers undid the wealthy man's belt. The young man who now had not a cent to his name opened the waist of those tailored trousers and lowered the zipper. He tugged them down as his Uncle helpfully raised his bottom so they could be lowered more easily. Sammy got his shorts out of the way too and was confronted with a long thick cock. He judged it without thinking, deciding it was larger than average, well made, and would fit nicely into his mouth. Why was he thinking that? His fingers began to stroke it, bringing it to full erection. John eased forward on his chair, making himself more assessable. Sammy's practiced tongue went to work, giving pleasure as it had so many times before. He licked and sucked and engulfed. His Uncle sighed contentedly. His passion began to rise and his member leaked clear fluid, which his nephew dutifully lapped up and swallowed. Before long the kneeling young man was sucking spiritedly, his tongue swirling around the wide cock head. John reached down, got his fingers in Sammy's long hair, and held on while that expert mouth took him over the edge. He spurted a huge load onto the waiting tongue and heard it being gulped down. Afterwards, as he came down from his sexual high, John explained, "I've made some other arrangements for you. I've spoken with those men who you got sent to prison. They've agreed not to take any legal action against you if they're granted visitation rights, to come and see you here, individually and as a group. It'll be just like old times for you. And I'm working to have you go and see your friend Bear via the prison's conjugal rights rules. They've decided that it would be good for both of you to have that time together. My driver could take you there once a week. Or twice. Or whatever. Sammy saw his hopes of regaining his male personality fading away. His return to college and chance of meeting a cute girl were gone. He was now a sex slave to his controlling Uncle, who might even have planned all this from the beginning. Maybe John was in league with the men who Sammy had gotten convicted, who were now released and would be coming to resume the games they had played with him while incarcerated. The college boy felt dizzy. He finger-combed his long hair and then backed out from under the desk. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Sammy started back to his chair. But his Uncle was standing and zipping up, then coming toward him. He took his nephew roughly by the arm and led him to a closet, opened it, and held him there, in front of a full- length mirror mounted on the back of the door. Uncle John wanted to know, "Who do you see?" Sammy replied in his girly voice, "Samantha." "And what does Samantha do?" "She sucks cocks, licks balls, and worships ass. And does anything else she's told." "Good girl," said John. "I noticed my driver ogling you. Let me call him and you can tell him what you just told me. I'm sure you won't mind if I stay in the room while he tells you what he wants and you give it to him. I love to watch." He pulled Sammy close and licked his ear. "And I'm going to make sure there's plenty for me to watch, Samantha, my sexy niece. Plenty to watch and get off on every day. And when watching you gets me hot, you'll be right there to cool me down. Won't that be nice?" "Yes, Uncle John. That will be... wonderful."