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THE RIGHT IMAGE by Throne "I'm damn glad you're here," Edward Finn said to his lawyer. "My wife and my financial manager don't have half a brain between them." He eyed his lawyer critically. "And you're not much better." "I understand how you feel," Martin Lane told him, not reacting to the insult. "This hasn't been easy, with all the charges the state has brought against you. But I have a plan. It's all based on how we make them see you." "I hope this isn't some stupid idea," the small feisty man said hotly. "I have my business to run." "This should only cost you a week of your time. You'll plead guilty to one of the minor charges and spend a few days in prison before I get you out on a technicality." "Wait? You're saying I have to spend time behind bars?" "Not exactly. I'll be requesting that you be sent to one of those 'country club' facilities. And as I said, you should only be there for..." "You imbecile. I don't want to be anywhere like that." "Well, the alternative is to go to court without any bargaining and risk a long sentence in a high security penitentiary." "They could do that to me?" "Yes. Because some of the money you concealed outside the country went through the hands of some very bad people and..." the legal representative shrugged helplessly. "... being associated with them has come back to hurt you." His client swore vociferously. "All right. What exactly do I have to do? Please tell me I won't have to listen to you go on and on about a lot of law crap." "No, sir. I've arranged everything to work very simply. You'll sign a confession to those minor acts. Your financial advisor, Mr. Carson, has helped me draw up papers giving you're wife control of all your assets." "Wait. What? You want me to let that big-busted bimbo run everything?" "It's just temporary and it will help to project the image that we want. Showing that you trust her and that you don't mind empowering a woman. It will... soften... the way you are perceived." "Sounds like crap to me. But all right. Whatever it takes to put this mess behind me. And if I ever find out who leaked information to the law..." He ran out of words. Finn was an unscrupulous businessman but not a violent criminal. He wasn't physically imposing. Besides being short, he had a small frame and fine features. His threats and scorn were reserved for those who worked for him, along with his patient and long suffering wife. "I'm glad you're taking that attitude," Lane reassured him. "Your cooperation will make this all work out perfectly." He opened his briefcase on the glass-topped table between them, in Finn's home office. "Mr. Carson and I have gone over these documents together and we're each satisfied with what the other has included. Everything should go exactly as planned." "Yeah," Finn said bitterly. "I don't know why I ever hired a faggot like Carson in the first place." "He's the best there is," Lane reminded him. "That's why I made the recommendation. And you did say you wanted someone who wouldn't... ahem... be interested in your lovely wife." "I know. I get sick of guys gawking at Iris. Her big tits and that terrific ass. She really does look like one of those nude dancers. You know?" "She's a lovely woman." "And she's all mine," Finn said with a smirk. "I own her. Are you sure I can't see her before I start this nonsense with the courts?" "It's better if you stay here at home while she's in the city. I only say that because..." The irritable man told him, "I know. Because we want to send the right message. They won't like it if I'm not here when they come to get me. I don't know why you couldn't have handled this differently." "Well, the main thing is how it works out in the end. With your wife in control of your accounts, she can move around any money we need for costs, or to handle any other details." Finn sighed. "I get it. Let me sign the papers and then you can leave. I have some calls to make." "Okay, but you might not want to talk business with anyone until this is over. Again, we want to be extra careful. If you upset anyone and they chose to get involved with your case..." He let the possible repercussions hang in the air. "Whatever," Finn groused. "But I don't like it. When I'm past all this next week, I'm going to find out who leaked information and go after them any way I can." He saw the lawyer's look of disapproval and amended, "It will all be legal. Jeez, Martin. I'm a businessman and I bend some rules, make some deals, and whatever. But I've never had anybody threatened or beaten up... yet." "Yes, Edward," the lawyer agreed, ignoring that final ominous word. "I'll take care of these papers and get back to you tomorrow or the next day. As soon as I know anything." Edward Finn had an uneventful evening. He got into his pajamas and robe, went to the den, found some porn on one of the cable services, and sat down with a strong drink in hand. He had a few more of those while he watched well hung men with sexy willing women. Eventually he drifted off into intoxicated sleep. So it was a shock in the morning when he was awakened by someone entering his home. He hadn't set the alarms before slipping into dreams. Now he got to his feet and searched for his phone. Before he could remember where it was, the door to his inner sanctum opened and three tall men in suits and ties entered, looking very efficient and official. "Edward Finn?" one of them wanted to know. The businessman's demeanor changed instantly. His abrasive outer persona dropped away. He knew these weren't people he could bully with his superior wealth. He cowered away from them and admitted meekly that he was who they were asking about. One of them grabbed him and pulled his hands behind his back while another read him his rights. He felt his wrists being cuffed and went into a helpless panic. He tugged futilely at the metal holding his hands close together . He was dimly aware of charges being read to him. Then they hustled him out of the room, through the house, onto the front walk, and into a windowless van. He tried to calm himself, remembering what his lawyer had said. They must just be arresting him because of whatever minor charge he had pled guilty to, though this seemed rather abrupt and extreme. He sat on a narrow bench attached to the inner wall of the van while one of the agents took a jump seat across from him. The other two men got into the front and the vehicle pulled away from the curb. Finn uncertainly tried to ask a question but, when he got no response except a stony stare, he retreated into silence. Where was his lawyer now? How could he have let this happen? Finn wished he at least had located his phone so maybe he could call Lane. After about a half hour they pulled to a stop. He was taken by the arm and escorted out of the van. As he blinked in the sudden sunlight, he saw that he wasn't at the courthouse, or even one of those facilities where rich guys like him were incarcerated. Instead he was inside the high, razor-wire-tipped walls of a real prison. He was half walked, half dragged through a featureless door, which was slammed behind him. Passing two security gates, he got led into a small room with no furniture, where his cuffs were removed. The man who had walked him in left the room. A tall broad-shouldered Black man in a guard's uniform entered. Before Finn could speak he was told, "Strip. Everything off." He managed to choke out, "Listen, fellow, there's been some mistake. I need to talk to my lawyer and..." Two powerful hands grabbed the front of Finn's robe and yanked it down. His arms came free. The garment was tossed aside. The guard stood glowering at him, waiting for a reaction. Finn was too afraid to oppose him. He silently unbuttoned his pajama top and got it off. There was nowhere to put it so he let it fall atop the crumpled robe. Then he hesitantly took hold of the front of his pajama bottoms. The guard was looking at him with what felt like more than professional interest. Finn swallowed with difficulty. He said quietly, "Look, buddy, I'm a rich man. I can make it worth your while if you just..." That was as far as he got before a long arm swung and a meaty hand cracked him across one side of his face and then the other. He stood there swaying, stunned, opening and closing his mouth without speaking. The guard repeated, "Strip." He leered at Finn's slender pale form, the hairless chest and soft midsection. With quivering fingers, Finn untied the cord that held up his pajama pants and let them drop. The guard's gaze went directly to his prisoner's crotch, to his privates. Finn was very sensitive about that part of himself because he had such small genitals. His wife never complained; she knew better. But back when he'd been single a few women had been put off by his undersized male parts. Some had openly mocked them. There had been one Asian girl who referred to his penis as 'netsuke'. He discovered later that she was comparing it to an object carved from ivory, something tiny enough to hold in the palm of her delicate hand. Now he was doubly uneasy, first because his privates were being openly examined, and secondly because this time it was by a man. The idea of any sort of queer attention, whether a glance from his financial advisor Carson, or this undisguised hunger from a towering Black guard, deeply disturbed him. "Could I..." Finn dared to ask, "... maybe please have something to cover up with?" "You have to go to Processing," the imposing man told him flatly. He opened the door and made a show of gesturing him out, acting like Finn was someone important and he, the guard, was a humble servant. The sarcasm was not missed by its target. Finn stepped into the corridor, naked and fearful. He didn't even know which way to walk. When he turned back to question the guard, the door was slammed in his face. He picked a direction but it led to a locked door. Reversing his course, he came to another door, but this one could be opened. Finn found himself in the main area of the prison, on a walkway that led between rows of cells. He stood there naked, with only one way he could move. With his hands modestly covering his crotch, he began to move. At once there were hoots and jeers from both sides. He saw amused convicts ogling his nakedness and had to listen to their taunting calls. "Hey, Mary Jane. Let's see what you got under your hands." "Yo, pansy. You're really begging to get your ass poked. Back on up to my cell and I'll give you some." "Look at that pretty skin. All white and pink. Soft and girly." When Finn veered toward the side to avoid an arm reaching through the bars, a burly inmate he was stumbling toward yelled at him as loudly as he could. The naked man jumped and rushed the other way, putting himself too close to the one who had grabbed for him. Strong fingers dug into Finn's slim bicep and pulled him closer. He ended up with his back against the bars, the con getting his free hand on Finn's narrow chest to hold him in place. That man's cellmate grabbed the available bare ass and pawed it freely. The prisoners on the opposite side, now able to see Finn's exposed genitals, pointed and laughed. "I can't believe it. Not only is this one a parading homo, but he ain't got no dick at all." "And get a load of them itty bitty balls. No girl would want a three- piece set like that in bed." "You know what they say. The smaller the equipment, the better the sucking. A pencil dick sissy is the best kind." Finn struggled to free himself but to no avail. He wasn't nearly strong enough. The con fondling his bottom reach between his legs to easily cover his male parts with one hand. As he caressed them he said, "I can't feel hardly anything. Did they let a girl in here?" Somehow Finn wriggled loose. He dropped to his knees, which provoked more lewd comments. Then he struggled to his feet and fled in the direction he had been going. When he got to the end of the row there was another locked door. Through a tiny grill an unsympathetic face peered. Finn slapped the door and begged to be let through. From the other side he heard a muffled laugh. Then, from his right, came another voice. It was soft and unsettlingly feminine, considering where they were. "Hey, honey, how about I give you some help?" He swiveled around to be confronted with a disgusting sight. It was some sort of gay person, tall and chunky, his hair slightly long and gathered on the sides into two miniature pony tails, held in place with colored rubber bands. His plump face was painted around the eyes and on the mouth with what appeared to be -- and in fact were -- ink markers. The blue eyelids and reddened lips revolted Finn. And the man had tied the front tails of his prison shirt together, up at mid- chest level. His uniform pants had been cut very short to show off his chubby thighs. Finn told him, "Get away from me, you freak." "Okay, Sugar. If you don't mind being all bare-assed in front of those big mean boys. They can be so critical of a girl's charms." "I'm not a girl, you damned weirdo," he snapped. "Right. And you only showed up like that so you wouldn't get these animals turned on. A little bit of cover-up couldn't hurt but, if you're not interested..." Finn had to weight the alternatives only for a few seconds. "All right." He swore weakly. "Just give me something to wear." "Well, let me see what I have." "I don't care what it is. Just give me something." "Well, they did give me some pretties for the Dress Therapy Program. You know, to help me get in touch with my feminine side. But the silly men didn't bother to get my size. You, on the other hand, would look darling in them. I mean, I would die for that petite figure of yours, Sweet Cheeks." "Just shut up and give me anything," he said, his attention divided. Finn still had the vivid memory of those hands mauling him, as well as full awareness of the many eyes feasting on his nudity. "Now." "So be it," the fruity man said, intentionally lisping the first 'S'. What he took from under his thin mattress and gave to Finn wasn't what the nude man wanted. It was a pink belly shirt and a pair of thong panties, along with a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers. When Finn backed away, the official watching through the grill snarled at him, "Hey, Pinky. You'll wear what he gave you. Otherwise, I'll just use my remote control here to open one or two of those cells and you'll see how that works for you." "Don't open them. I'll wear it. I'll put on those... things." There was more laughter, triggered by his surrender. As he stepped into the panties and worked them up his legs, the action was greeted with catcalls and wolf whistles. "Aw, Cute Stuff, don't cover that baby dick. It's so pretty." "I like the way that butt floss leaves your tail end all bare. Give it a shake for us." He hurried to don the top and was frustrated by how little it concealed, and how girlish it made him appear. "Whoa. I think I can see the new fairy's nipples poking out through his pretty shirt." "Bet he'd love to have us play with them and get his mini-dick all stiff." Finn reluctantly slipped his feet into the shameful slippers. He stood there feeling ludicrous and vulnerable. The cell door on his right slid open noisily. From the other side of the grill he was ordered, "Get into there with your pansy buddy. I know you two will do real good together." When Finn didn't move at once, he was informed, "Or else I'll open some others for you to pick from." Dressed like a teen tart, horrified that he might be offered up to the sex starved cons, Finn threw himself into the offered safe space. The door slid back into position and clanged with a sound of finality. The barely seen guard added, "And let your sister there make up your face. Don't want you to look only half sissy." In a daze, Finn sat on the lower of two bunks. His new cellmate introduced himself as Kat. He went to a narrow shelf and took a handful of colorful markers. Finn licked his lips and was about to tell him not to do anything, but that seemed unwise. Instead, he stayed still while Kat went to work on his face. The plump effeminate man talked as he worked. "You'll do fine, dear. Right now you might think you don't want those ruffians all over you, but that'll change with time. I mean, I was all for it from Day One. But you're kind of reluctant. I can see that. Even so, if you give them what they want, it will save you regular beatings. I mean licking some guy's balls is better than having your own balls squeezed really hard. So just go along to get along. That's all. You've certainly got the looks for it. I would pay good money for naturally kissy lips like yours. Oh, swoon." He applied a magenta marker to Finn's mouth, going heavy on the color. "And those bedroom eyes. You will have gentleman callers up the wazoo. Literally." He put the back of one hand against his forehead, sighed theatrically, and said in a dreamy voice, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. With huge cocks. And busy hands. And heavy balls that make loads of spunk." He giggled, which made Finn shudder. "Now just close those attractive eyes so I can do some finishing touches. And I think you should have some long, drawn-on lashes. Cartoon style, but very effective. Not that you need them, with that delectable rump on display. Still, too much is just enough, as we girls say." Kat delivered an air kiss about an inch in front of Finn's mouth, adding to the newly arrived prisoner's disquiet. The swishy man took a mirror from under his pillow. It was plastic, frame and reflective surface both, but gave a clear enough image for Finn to get a good idea of how he looked. What he saw made him freeze up inside. His eyes appeared larger, an effect increased by the long dark lashes that extended from them, obviously just lines on his face but still sending an unasked for message. And his mouth had been made to seem not only bigger all around, but even fuller, as if he had a permanent pucker. His cheeks had a deep blush. "Now just let me do something with that blond hair I'm so jealous of," Kat decided. "It won't take a minute." When Finn gave him a pleading look he advised, "If those guys think you're holding back on them, they might punish you for it. I mean, a good hard spanking from some brute can be stimulating. But they might not stop there. They might decide you need a shampoo job... in the toilet bowl." That made Finn give in to whatever additional styling Kat wished to do. The fey man fussed with his subject's hair, using spit and something from a jar to give it added body. After a few minutes he leaned back and smiled approvingly at the results. This time when he was shown his reflection, Finn moaned miserably. His pale hair had been worked up into a series of spikey points, making him resemble even more than before a budding streetwalker. And there was some candy-sweet scent drifting around him. No soon had Kat declared, "All done, Princess," than the cell door opened again. That was the last thing Finn wanted to see. He got up and stood on rubbery legs. Kat rose alongside him and patted his bottom. "Off you go, doll. I think they have something super special planned for you." He gave his rump a push, "As much as I hate to lose you, duty calls." "But..." Finn protested without conviction, "none of this is supposed to be happening." "Just hush up and enjoy your honeymoon, lucky girl." The cell closed once more, leaving Finn where he was, every eye that could see him now focused on his altered appearance. The door with a grill set into it opened and he at last got to see the guard who had ordered him around. The man was tall and imposing, a Black giant. He patted his Billy club meaningfully and gave Finn a crooked smile. Not until the dressed up prisoner was close to breaking down and weeping did the guard chuckle and usher him through the door. There were cries of disappointment behind them and Finn was deeply relieved when that door was shut once more. The guard got a firm grip on the back of his neck and steered him along a grey corridor, to a door with a name plaque on it that Finn didn't get to read before he was shoved through, led to a hard wooden chair, and made to sit. The guard moved back and stood there, a frightening sentinel. There was an inner door which swung outward a moment later to admit a middle aged man with a serious look on his clean-shaven face. He wore slacks and a white shirt, his necktie loosened as if he had been working hard. He dropped into a padded swivel chair behind his desk, brought something up on his computer screen, and studied it for several minutes while Finn writhed with anxiety. "So," the man said at last, his tone steely. "You've gotten yourself into quite a lot of trouble..." He consulted the screen again. "... Edward." "I... " Finn fidgeted. "There seems to be some misunderstanding, Sir." "Really? Are there more crimes that you forgot to confess to? I mean, this list is pretty long already. And..." He scrolled down and peered at more information. "... you switched everything into your wife's name, which tells us that you knew you were going away for an extended vacation." He held up his hand, palm outward. "I'm not saying that was a poor move. Quite the opposite. And whoever your financial manager is, they did an expert job of setting it all up. There's no way we can touch a penny of your money. Or rather, your wife's money. Everything comes down to you and those unwise decisions you made, which will mean you're here with us for, well, let's be conservative and just say three-to-five." He leaned forward confidentially and added, "If I didn't know better, I'd think your wife, lawyer, and advisor got together to put you in this situation, and some of the people you pulled dirty deals with helped them, to make sure you stayed safely in here and couldn't implicate anyone." He shook his head. "My, my. Maybe they're even thinking that, by the time you get out, you'll be well beyond the point of squealing on anybody. I mean, you won't have a penny to your name unless your bride gives you an allowance, and you'd better hope she doesn't divorce you, unless you want to be homeless, too." He grinned at Finn. "Any questions, loser?" "This can't be happening." "That's not a question. What you might want to ask is how you can keep from getting your boy parts permanently damaged. I mean, even after a few years on the inside, you want to leave intact, still being a man where it counts. Right? So how about this? I'm going to double you up with Kat. But I'll also put you in our program for men with gender confusion, to help you learn who you really are. That will involve letting you get to know lots of the other guys. The horny... violent... imaginative ones. The kind who can break a straight man down and have him sucking cocks with a smile in no time. And I'll report regularly to your wife and her personal representative..." He squinted at the screen. "... Martin Lane, Esquire. I'll give them updates on how you're adapting to everything. They both seem very interested in your, shall we say, progress. And I got the impression they're also interested in each other." He gave Finn an inscrutable half-smile. "But you can ask her yourself when she stops by for a conjugal rights visit. That is, IF she stops by." He chortled and waved Finn away, as if he was nothing. The guard grabbed Finn my his bare arm and stood him up. Finn spoke desperately to the man behind the desk. "But I'm rich. Powerful." "Not any more. You're poor. Powerless. And about to spend the night with someone you should listen closely to. Kat." Still not even knowing the man's name or position, Finn was rushed back out, onto the cellblock again, and put with Kat once more. Finn huddled on the lower bunk while Kat sat alongside him and put a reassuring arm around is unimpressive shoulders. Finn wanted to use a few homophobic slurs on his cellmate, but he felt too dependent on him. Instead, he allowed Kat to snuggle against him. The unmanly man said, "Don't worry, Sweet Lips. I'm not going to assault you. That's hardly my style. I'm a bottom. And you're not my type. I prefer them big and hairy and maybe a bit ugly. Grunt, grunt." He snickered. "But you'll be getting the best of those, I imagine. Life can be so unfair. Don't you think?" "I had money. And a big home. Three cars." Finn sounded and felt numb. "What am I going to do now?" "Well," said Kat with a flourish of his limp-wristed hand, "I'd strongly suggest that you speak in a breathy voice, move like a girl, and act kind of flirty around the bigger boys. Otherwise, instead of you giving them what they want, they'll take it in the roughest possible ways." "But... I'm not gay. I can't do that." "Mmm. Some guys just can't. At first. They have to go through... let's call it... a period of adjustment. So I guess you'll just have to have your period." He tittered. "Sorry, love. I don't suppose you're receptive to jokes right now. But just remember that the queerer you act, the easier it will all go for you. The straighter you act, the more they're going to want to break you. These studs are really into playing power games. But either way, you'll give in by the end. Especially when you get it in the end." He failed to stifle a laugh. "Oh, I'm just incorrigible. And don't forget, they like to play games with your mind. Even if you can stand up to a full frontal assault, they'll find other paths to your inner self, so they can twist it around and make you the kind of girl they want." Kat leaned close enough to whisper into Finn's ear. "It's inevitable, honey." Finn had a restless night. In the morning Kat got him into a new outfit. This one was a tight tube top with horizontal rainbow stripes, cotton panties decorated with colorful unicorns and pink clouds, plus a pair of flip flops with a big plastic flower decorating each one. Then the amateur beautician insisted on freshening his make-up, even though the markers hadn't smeared or been wiped away. Then he toyed with Finn's hair again, bringing it to its previous state of trashiness. He even used markers to put a red heart on Finn's left upper arm and a black spade symbol, like on a playing card, on the other side. Finn understood that the heart could add to his unmanly look. But he couldn't puzzle out what the other symbol meant. He decided he would find out in time. Maybe he could learn some way to avoid everything that had been predicted for him. Perhaps the people who had said those things were just having their sadistic fun. And he couldn't accept that his wife, lawyer, and accountant were all in league against him. What had he ever done to them? By the time the bell for breakfast rang and all the cells opened at once, with the men streaming out and flowing as a group toward the mess hall, Finn had himself convinced that he had been lied to and nothing terrible was going to happen to him. A week from now he would be out, berating his wife, lawyer and accountant for allowing him to be put in this hellhole in the first place. He got to the mess hall and one guard attached himself to Finn, discouraging anyone else from getting too close. There was the proof the imprisoned man needed. He was being protected. Iris and Martin must have contacted whoever was in charge. Maybe even that fag Robert had helped, which he would do if he knew what was good for his future employment. Finn sat up straight, ate the unappetizing food, and anticipated his immanent release, or at least being moved to some non- nightmarish place. That country club type facility would look good right around now. He finished his bland meal unmolested, spent an hour in the exercise yard with that same guard nearby, and finally started back toward his cramped cell. He was almost there when the guard took him roughly by the arm and led him down an unfamiliar corridor. "Hey," Finn protested. "I'm getting out of here soon. If you don't want to be written up, you'd better show some respect." "Respect? For you? The newly designated cell block party girl? I don't think so. We have specific instructions for your ass. Keep the creeps off you most of the time, but get you to all your scheduled sessions on schedule. And I'm even going to stay and make sure everything goes as planned, you arrogant, big-money prick. Or, from what I've been told, that's FORMERLY big-money. Heard your hot wife's sexy ass is in the driver's seat now. And your pretty ass..." He gave Finn's sitter a hard swat, on one of the cheeks the brief thong left so temptingly unprotected. "... your pretty ass is about to get educated. Or maybe just your mouth. After all, you're not going anywhere for a long time, so there's no hurry." Suddenly scared again, the hopes he'd built up in his mind now dashed, Finn let himself be marched into a room that looked like an airport lounge, with plastic bucket seats, a long low table in the middle of the space and attached to the floor, plus generic nonfigurative art bolted to the walls. Filling a half dozen of those seats were tough looking cons, several with their sleeves cut off their shirts to reveal well developed arms, most of them watching him expectantly, and all of them Black. The guard gave him a final push to put him where everyone had a good look at what had just been delivered to them. One of the Black men said in a no-nonsense tone, "Get over here, white boy. Let's have an up-close and personal look at that sweet sissy ass." By reflex, Finn said, "I'm not a sissy. I straight. I'm not attracted to..." His words petered out as he remembered the warnings he had been given. His voice softened as he amended, "Yes, Sir," and moved closer to the seated figure. The man said, "I'm called Hurt. They named me that because I hurt people sometimes. Now if you don't want to get hurt, how about you get on your knees, like right in front of me, and we'll talk about an itch I got that needs scratching." Finn mutely shook his head. This was the moment of truth. He had to stand up for himself. Had to buy time until he could formulate a plan. Find someone who cared. Get in contact with the outside world. He took a step back. Two big anonymous hands clamped onto his shoulders and held him in place. Hurt moved his chair forward. Whoever had grabbed him, along with Hurt himself, put Finn over the big man's lap. Hurt rubbed Finn's unprotected buttocks, slowly, savoring the sensations. The seated man said, "Damn, you feel like a girl anyway. Don't have far to go before you act like one, too. Which is what's going to happen now. But you need a lesson to help you understand how it is in here for you. So I'm going to be the teacher, and you're going to be the naughty white girl who needs her rear end swatted. Hard. Real hard." The man who was draped over the other's muscular thighs tried to speak but his words were cut off by a painful slap against his upturned bottom. He yelped and, before he could catch his breath, a second, third and fourth swat landed. He kicked his feet, wailed, and gasped. Hurt was relentless, landing blows rapidly, covering every available inch of flesh, using all of his considerable strength. Soon Finn was sobbing, then blubbering, and at last bawling. He howled and struggled, though Hurt kept him in place effortlessly, while the other cons and the guard all laughed. Not until Finn was a complete wreck did Hurt roll him off his lap and let him land hard on the floor. Finn got as far as his knees before he saw the brutal man grinning maliciously down at him. "Time has come," Hurt said. "I still got that itch. On my big Black cock. And you need to sooth it. With your sweet, lipstick, sissy mouth. So get busy." Finn's backside was ablaze. He couldn't believe how sore it was. And he understood how simple it would be for Hurt to administer similar discipline to any part of his body, that bad or much worse. Seeing no alternative, he shuffled forward without getting up, until he was in the bay of the big man's legs. Finn gingerly undid the button fly on the con's prison-issued trousers. He got his fingers inside the loose garment and felt how unthinkably large the man's equipment was. He couldn't prevent himself from mentally comparing it to his own meager endowment. Sobbing, he brought it out and saw that it was even bigger than touching it had suggested. Hurt's cock was nine inches soft and beginning to show signs of hardening. "Get to it," the seated man urged threateningly. "Ain't you never jerked off? Make my tool work, girl." Finn stroked it lightly. Despite his cautious efforts, it thickened and rose, with girth to match it's enviable length. By the time he had brought it to its full proportions, it was over ten inches long, with a fat knob weaving in front of his eyes like a cobra about to strike. "Well?" Hurt sounded ready to give Finn a second spanking. "You going to use that mouth now, white girl, or would you rather try it after I give you a split lip?" Gagging slightly, Finn extended his tongue and experimentally touched the oozing slit at the end of that superior shaft, tasting the clear salty fluid. He whimpered as he tried to get his lips around so much meat. Impossible though he would have thought it to be, he managed to encircle the thickness, with the head on his tongue. Finn sucked. He tried to remember what he liked Iris to do when he made her go down on him. Right. He swirled his tongue around the wide corona, used it on the sensitive area under the head, and began to bob, taking in another inch with each of the next two dips of his head. Hurt sighed approvingly. At least he wasn't likely to administer anymore spanking while he was being pleasured. But there was still the reality of what this would lead to. Just the thought of having a man, any man, but especially this overpowering Black one, finish in his mouth, made Finn nauseated. The idea of a load of hot cream running down his throat was unthinkable. Having it in his stomach, being absorbed by his body, would be irreversibly transformative. How would he ever be able to see himself as a man if he let matters proceed to that point? How could he ever face his wife again once he had sucked a cock to completion? But on the other hand, what chance was there for him to avoid that disgrace? The answer appeared to be that there was zero chance for him to prevent it. Because Hurt's rod was so long, and Finn needed to keep him happy, the kneeling man used both hands to cautiously manipulate the thick length. He even recalled a trick of Iris's and caressingly massaged Hurt's heavy balls. Finn released the end of that massive cock from his mouth so he could take a few deep breaths. While he did that, rather than risk upsetting the dominant convict, Finn dipped down to lap his scrotum. It was so demeaning. And his his smarting rear end wasn't recovering. He licked his way up the underside of the shaft and returned to lavishing attention on the receptive head. Hurt put his fingertips on the sides of Finn's head, as if to let him know he was doing a satisfactory job. All Finn could think about, besides self preservation, was that he was giving a BJ. Doing what fairies did for each other. What his accountant Robert probably did for guys he was attracted to. It was awful. Finn forced himself to take in another two fat inches. He even got past his gag reflex. Hurt patted him on the top of his head, as if rewarding an obedient dog for an accomplishment. Finn had to go back to servicing just the helmet and first few inches beyond that. It was all too much. He kept stroking the shaft. Hurt's firm thighs tensed. His breathing deepened. No, no, no. He was getting close to spurting. Finn started to spontaneously shed hot tears but didn't slacken his efforts. All too soon he knew it was about to happen. And because he now had only the head past his lips, the entire mess would land inside his mouth, rather than being shot straight down his throat. He would have to taste and feel all that semen on his tongue. And then it happened. With a growl, Hurt fired his seed into Finn, as if he was shooting into some girl's pussy. It filled Finn's mouth like a receptacle. He felt like what guys called a jizz jar or cum dump, as it slid down his throat to end up in his stomach. Using his hands and mouth, Finn made sure to get every last drop, rather than possibly incurring Hurt's wrath. Even after he was done he was too intimidated to release the softening member. Instead, he kept sucking, though with less effort, until he finally decided it was safer to free it than to overdo his display of compliance any more. Finn took his mouth off Hurt's drained cock and, with the triumphant Black man grinning down at him, had to lick his lips clean of the white creaminess that had escaped. "All right," Hurt announced with undisguised glee. "We got us a real natural-born cocksucker. I can always tell. Sure put her heart into it. Along with her tongue. Heh, heh. Guess cause her own dick's so tiny, like I can see by the little bitty bump in her panties, she's always hungry for a big one. So who's next. This thirsty girl has five more feedings to go. She's going to be smiling inside the whole time. And will sleep like a regular little queenie, with a full tummy. Who's it going to be now?" That led to five repeat efforts from Finn, with a spanking somewhere along the way when he was judged to need added motivation. There was more talk about how he was obviously a true sissy who had been secretly longing for this occurrence. As further proof they kept bringing up his lack of resistance, even how they had never seen a new arrival try so little to avoid being used. By the end of that very long afternoon, Finn was already starting to doubt his own masculinity. He was returned to his cell and found himself going to Kat for consolation. The veteran sissy offered a shoulder to cry on, but also kept reinforcing the idea that Finn had to adapt and fit into his new role of the cooperative and even eager 'cum collector'. They went to dinner together. Finn realized that he'd missed lunch. Still confused by everything that was happening so quickly, he mentioned it to Kat. The plump man told him, "Baby girl, you did have lunch. Six hot servings of healthy protein. Color me jealous. All I got this week was sucking off one guard through the bars of my cell. It was nice, though, to have an audience. But there is some good news for you. They somehow found another whole stash of cute outfits, all kinds of mix and match stuff, which just happens to be in your size. And nothing new for me. Still, we have to take it as it comes. So I'll have something seductive for you to wear in the AM." The next day was the same but different. Finn was dressed in a bandeau top and hot pants, with ballet shoes. He was detoured after breakfast, back to that same room. There were even the same half dozen guys waiting for him. But this time they just had fun fondling him, playfully pinching his nipples, and hinting that he had better be a good girl if he didn't want something bad to happen. He thought it would be best of humor them, so he went along with it, wiggling his bottom when he was on their laps, putting his hand on their cocks through their pants, cooing appreciatively every time one of them gave him some unwanted stimulation. It worked and they didn't force him into any sex acts. The day after that was mixed. This time Kat had him don a diaphanous baby doll nightie, to be worn all day. No one used Finn's mouth, but one of the guys had him get on his back on the table, with his tail end at the edge. The man stood near Finn's bottom and made him raise his legs. Then he got his big Black cock between those soft thighs and pumped happily away until he shot a load all over Finn's front, even getting some on his face. The reluctant sissy wasn't allowed to clean himself up afterward and had to leave his 'white badge' on until the next morning. The next morning, just as Finn was beginning to relax, the men went back to demanding blowjobs. He had to give the full half dozen on the first day. The day after, the oral service was the same but with lots of ball licking added. Every time that followed there was something else, like nuzzling their crotches, talking lovingly to their cocks, or having to play with his own unimpressive dick while he acted like a slut for them. They mixed up their expectations, so that he never knew what to anticipate. Worse, somewhere in all that, he found he could easily arouse himself when it was expected. Finn didn't like that he achieved erections when there were no women involved. And while he was performing those debasing acts. He told himself it was just because he hadn't had any release in so long. And he began to want to ejaculate, if only for the relief. But he was unsure about doing it because his life had become so controlled by others. He also lost track of time, days running together uncounted. His attention was held more and more by the need to keep the men in that private circle happy. He began to initiate actions, like licking their legs or complimenting their physiques, as part of his efforts. Occasional spankings helped to keep him anxious to please. At some point in the midst of all that, he was supplied with depilatory, which Kat lovingly applied as needed, so that Finn had no hair anywhere on his body. Then guys he was used to serving vanished, to be replaced by others. He never knew who he was going to see on any given day. Finn began to have preferences. One particularly mean Black man appeared and insisted that Finn use his mouth on his ass. The helpless white convict looked to the others for help but they simply waited to see how he reacted. So Finn ended up on his knees, behind the new guy, face wedged in the valley of his rear end, tongue busy, reaching around to manipulate his swollen cock. It was horrendous but he got through it. After that he lived in dread of a repeat performance. About a week later he was at last convinced it wouldn't happen. That was exactly when it did recur, though with a different guy, one of the more familiar ones. Finn was always unsure and confused about their expectations, behavior and, increasingly, how he felt about it all. He felt a strange attachment to the ones who demanded less from him. At the same time, he felt especially in thrall to those who insisted on more. Kat continued to dress him attentively, and to vary his make-up. The program got extra funding and suddenly Finn was wearing real cosmetics. There were also some new miniskirts, a clinging, see-through top, and lots of stockings. He had learned by then to keep his voice wispy at all times, even when it wasn't necessary. And assuming feminine body language had become second nature to him, like breathing out and breathing in. He caught himself striking poses for the men in that room, and other times doing it just to tease others on the block or in the mess hall who didn't have access to him. Kat began to call him Kitten and soon others were using that name for him. He was deep into his new identity when he got a shocking surprise. One morning, instead of going to breakfast, he was taken to a room he'd never seen before. There was a curtain across the middle of the space. He wondered what might happen there. Some new sexual encounter? He wasn't sure how he felt about that possibility. That was when they brought his wife Iris and his lawyer, Martin Lane into the room. Martin wore an expensive imported suit. Iris was a knockout in a clinging designer dress with a scoop neckline and elevated hem. Finn had on a red satin corset that Kat had tightened as much as he could. It pushed up the soft tissue of Finn's undeveloped chest to give him small faux boobs, as well as pinching his waist to girlish slimness. The only other thing he wore was tiny red panties, and color coordinated shoes with two inch heels, a type he was becoming adept at walking in. Kat had done a nice job on his make-up, giving dramatically outlined eyes and a large kissable mouth. There were chairs and everyone sat down. Finn twitched nervously, not sure where to put his hands. It was awkward having his bride see him this way. He tried to use more manly posture but failed. When his wife greeted him he answered in his usual Kitten voice, again unable to reassert his male identity. Iris and Martin sat alongside each other, seeming extremely comfortable together. "So," Iris said, as if nothing unusual was going on, "I hear you're getting along well." "It's just," he whispered, wringing his hands, "the men are... doing things to me... and making me do things... to them." "I know," she said, sounding concerned. "There are hidden cameras in that special room where you go so often. We've seen the videos, Martin and I." She took the lawyer's hand. "And we understand that you're getting in touch psychologically with another side of yourself. A part of you that you hid away from me." When he tried to say something she held up her hand. As accustomed as he had become to obeying everyone around him, Finn fell silent. She went on, "We're not here to judge you... Kitten. I was told that's what you prefer to be called now. We understand because we've changed, too. Myself and Martin still have our relationship as client and lawyer, of course. But something else has developed. We think that knowing about it will help you to get along with your own life, Kitten." She turned in Martin's direction and they leaned toward each other to share a deep lingering kiss. "We're lovers now, Kitten. So you don't need to worry about my emotional happiness. Martin provides for that very well. And frankly, dear, he's much better in bed than you ever were. With your tiny dick and lack of staying power, you never gave me a single orgasm. And now here you are, providing them for your new partners, all those exciting Black men." Finn felt dizzy. He tried to stand but his legs gave out. He sat there watching his wife and lawyer -- if Martin still was -- enjoy another unhurried kiss, while they ran their hands all over each other, obviously enjoying every second of it. "But," Finn piped up. "What about getting me out of here? And all my money? And property?" "Not to worry," Iris said in an assuring way. But instead of giving good news she said, "The people here have convinced us that you're very content. Especially with some of those videos they showed us. I have to admit, I got some great ideas for new techniques to try on Martin. He really loves it when I give him what we call a Kitten Style blowjob." She chuckled. "And I'm taking good care of MY money. And MY property." She wagged a finger at him. "Which you should never refer to as YOURS. You don't have a penny to your name, Kitten. Not a single one. Or anything else. In fact, we packed up your male clothing and generously gave it to a deserving charity. Wasn't that thoughtful of us?" "My clothing? All of it?" "Well, darling, you obviously don't need it. And why would any of your boyfriends want to see you in a shirt or trousers? No, it's better this way. But we still wanted to do something special for you. So that's why you're getting this conjugal visit. It's so forward thinking of them not to insist that it be with your wife. Or rather, soon to be ex-wife. I'm sure you wouldn't expect me to stay wedded to a convict." She made a sour face. "So we'll leave now and let you be with your court sanctioned visiting partner." They got up and, as they left, Martin threw him a smile and pulled aside the curtain that ran down the middle of the room. On the other side was a bed and, sitting on the edge of it was his former financial manager, Robert Carson, who he now understood had joined the others to railroad him into prison and, with additional help from people he had conspired with in shady business dealings, saw that he not only stayed here where he couldn't expose their wrongdoings, but also that he was turned into a defenseless simpering sissy who couldn't assert himself. Robert stood up and gave him a nasty grin. "Well, if it isn't my former client, who was always dropping nasty innuendos about my sexual orientation. Looks like you owe me an apology... and something else. I hear you've learned to obey when given an order. Is that true... Kitten?" "I..." Finn seemed to fall into a trance. Oh no. He didn't want to do this. The vestiges of his manhood rebelled, but were so depleted that they couldn't help him. He went to the other man and said, "Whatever you want, Sir." "That's what I like to hear. Just like some cheap slut boy. But please, call me Bobby. I want us to be friends during my visits. Which will be regular. Now why don't you get me undressed, Kitten. You can stay like you are," he said as Finn began to undress Robert's shirt. "I love how that corset makes it look like you have budding boobies. And I was told that your friend Kat put some special panties on your this morning, because someone clued her that I was coming." "Special?" Robert reached around and put his hand on Finn's bottom, now softer and rounder than ever before. His fingers found the center cleft and explored until they reached the opening that ran down the middle of the panties. He diddled the sensitive target that waited between those smooth cheeks. "Didn't you wonder why none of those fierce Black men ever took your virginity, Kitten? It was because they were saving that for me. Part of a rather elaborate deal that you don't need to know anything about. Let's just keep your life being about what you're going to wear, who you're going to suck off, what dirty tricks you can perform for those guys, and how you're going to learn to look forward to getting plugged by me. The lack of intellectual stimulation you've been having has probably brought your IQ down several points already. And the changes to your sexual personality make it difficult for you to think about anything outside your small world. But don't worry. This will just be one more treat for Kitten, the prison tramp who loves nothing better then being desired and used by lots of men. Right?" Finn wanted to say NO but it came out as, "YES. I do." He sniffled. "I really do." This wasn't possible. His hetero self had been reawakened. "Then finish getting me naked. We still have most of our hour. And I'm sure they'll grant us some added time if we need it. You have so many people on the outside working to keep you in here, and to make sure that you become an absolute brainless sissy. Iris and Martin and I aren't the only ones who get to see those mini movies you star in. Or the only ones who have grudges with you. So don't think of this as just me getting back at you. Picture it as about a dozen people giving you paybacks." Finn was on his knees. All of Robert's clothes were on the foot of the bed. The naked man reached down to play with Finn's nipples. Those small pseudo-breasts shifted around under his touch. The sissy gasped and got an instant hard-on. The accountant rubbed the tiny penile protrusion through the panties, using his shin. Finn whimpered with need, hugged Robert's leg, and kissed him just above the knee. The money manager wanted to know, "Aren't you supposed to be using your mouth a bit higher?" Moaning softly, Finn sat up higher and goggled at Robert's cock. It was longer than he had anticipated, a good seven inches soft. As he began to mewl and lap it, like his feline namesake, it got rigid and gained another inch. The kneeling figure slurped it and sucked the head. He drooled over it, his first white cock. Finn rubbed his cheek against it and muttered terms of endearment. The very personal attention went on for a short while. "That's all very nice," Robert commented. "And it certainly got me into the mood. But now it's time for the main act. Cherry popping. So up on the bed, Kit Kat. Head down and ass up. Right at the foot will be fine. I'll stand and have easy access. Oh, and let me get my little packet of lube." He retrieved the foil packet from his pants as Finn assumed the position, tore it open with his teeth, and liberally greased up his cock. He cleaned his fingers off between Finn's butt cheeks, smearing the excess lube onto the quivering sissy's pucker. "Now let's do it. And one thing, Kitten. I don't want you thinking about the man you used to be. I don't want you imagining yourself in male clothes. And definitely don't think about being with your stunning wife. Right now she and Martin are probably on their way back to your home... I mean HER home... to screw their brains out. So keep all that completely out of your thoughts. It might upset you to dwell on any of those topics." Naturally, once Robert had put the ideas into his mind, Finn could think of nothing else. He whimpered, "Bobby, please. I do remember my old life. And I don't want to picture Iris with Martin. I don't want to be a cuckold. Or a sissy. So please don't take away the last shreds of my dignity. Don't commit this final insult to my... to..." He began to breath faster. "To..." "Having trouble with words all of a sudden? You really are descending into being a complete mindless sex toy. Isn't that amusing.? And I'm so glad I can help you take the next step." He set the end of his cock against Finn's tightness. "Remember, don't think back to how you used to be so disgusted that I like to do this (push) with cute guys (shove) who like having it done (jam) to them (cram). There you go. All the way in. Balls deep. A cock so much bigger than that joke between your legs -- Finn's little dick that could never satisfy his wife. Don't focus on being filled up by my big ramrod that's about to start pumping you and won't stop for a good long while, and then only after it shoots a heavy load. When I'm done, you will have been initiated as a complete and utter sissy, Kitten. With no turning back." "Noooo," Finn groaned. But there was no stopping Robert, who happily rode him, enjoying the sensation of being inside but still feeling those satiny panties bordering the divide. The money man reached under to tease Finn's nipples. He heard the penetrated male huffing and puffing and reached lower to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, the sissy had a straining boner. "Oh my," Robert said in mock surprise. "Does my little Kitten have a stiff one? Is she all aroused from being plugged and plowed? What does that tell us? How will Iris react when she hears about this?" Finn was so mixed up. He had finally come to accept the way the cons treated him but now, after being reminded of his past masculinity, he was experiencing waves of shame as he not only got used in this new way, but also responded so positively. He grunted and then squealed that he wasn't enjoying it, but his erect penis told a different story, as did his drawn up balls and hard nipples. He whined and took deep breaths and fought it but he couldn't deny what his body declared. After a long session of Robert taking revenge and pleasure simultaneously, the hip jerking top man let loose and fired his spunk into Finn's bowels. At the same second, the buns-up sissy abandoned all attempts at self control and felt his own climax arrive. He yelped and babbled wordless syllables, but it was already done. When Robert realized what had happened he laughed and said, "Popped your little popgun, did you? Welcome to being a full time, hot assed, loving it, sissy." "No," Finn mumbled, barely audible. "Not that." "And now we can talk to the prison staff about some other possibilities. That program we got you into, to help you settle your gender issues, has other levels. How would you like a nice set of real tits, that jiggle when you walk? And a bubble butt that draws every male eye? Of course you'd want you're lips plumped up to the maximum. But we can get to all of that later. Right now I just want you to concentrate on me coming to play with you, every two weeks, and how much you'll enjoy being reminded of everything you've lost. Your money. Business. Wife. Home. Cars. Male wardrobe. Even your body hair. And every bit of dignity. Oh, and that other thing. What was it? Your ability to think of yourself as a man." "Please..." And if you do get out in a few more years, you'll be beyond the point of regaining any of what you lost. But don't worry. I'm sure you can hire yourself out as a live-in maid. And all around sex slave. Hey, maybe your EX and her lover will want you for that. Or who knows. Maybe it'll be me." He pulled out, wiped himself clean on Finn's well used bottom, and then gave him a hard slap on the hip. "Plenty to think about, Kitten. Behave, or I might declare open season on your butt sometime soon, to every one of those guys you've been giving head to all along. Plenty to worry about. And it's kind of funny how we conned you by saying what we had you doing in the beginning was so you could project the best image to benefit you. Look at the image you've got now, and all the attention it keeps earning you. Pretty damned ironic, don't you think?" ********* (Thanks to everyone who reviewed my recent stories, and also to those who left comments on some of the earlier ones. Always like to hear from my readers.)