(The Fallout)
Max Stapleton was walked down the restricted ward that was for minors who were tried as adults and found guilty. Here at Stanton, they were kept on a separate wing to protect them from the predatory older people from 18-25 on the floor he lived on. It was Thursday, and he was over here going to the medical clinic on this floor; it was where Dr. Rahman had sent him to see a psychiatrist he had seen on Tuesday. Today was Thursday, his third appointment with his counterpart, a psychologist. He could come to this ward with a guest sticker after having his badge scanned by a guard.
With all that had happened, he was having difficulty talking about it. So, in the first two sessions, he had sat staring at the floor. She had politely and silently read.
He was a security level 1, meaning he was not a threat and had not been convicted of a violent crime, so he went down the hall with a newspaper under his arm. He had been told to ignore the inmates over here. One was saying something in his direction. He just walked on and got hit upside his head with a paper wad. He turned and looked for a moment. It was only what appeared to be maybe a couple of 16-year-olds. He just shook his head and continued onward. This place was a jungle over here.
When he arrived at the medical clinic, he went inside. He went up to the window, and the same blond was there he talked to on Tuesday. She looked over at him and grinned.
She said, “Hello, Max Stapleton; I bet you are here for Dr. Ensign?”
Max said, “Yes, Ma’am.”
She said, “Badge, please?”
He removed his badge and pushed it through the slot below the window. He noticed that a couple of women in the office were staring at him as he was waiting for it back. That would be about right. The blonde scanned him in and returned his badge. He sat down, waiting for them to call him at the black door. He didn’t have to wait long; it was Dr. Susan Ensign.
She was an older blond-headed lady who was dressed immaculately. She had the perfect manicure, never seemed to have a hair out of place, had ideal makeup, and seemed to float more than walk.
She said in a charming voice, “Hello, Maxwell.”
He got up and followed her through the door. They returned to a friendly office across from Dr. Fischer, the psychiatrist he had been seeing on Tuesdays. Her office had a desk with a computer, but two recliners sat across from each other, facing straight up.
She glided before him into the room, “Have a seat, Max.”
She sat down in the far recliner and put a tea bag into a coffee cup of hot water.
He sat down, and it was a comfortable seat.
She asked politely, “Tea?”
He said quietly, “No, thank you. I am fine.”
She looked curiously, “Are you? You look somewhat dissatisfied.”
He was still polite: “No, thank you.”
He began staring at the floor as he had before. She opened a hardback book and silently read, initiating a staring contest. She waited a few minutes and cheated this time by lifting the book and slamming the cover hard, prompting him to look up at her.
Her smile was genuine. “I know, Max, that is a cheap psychological trick. Look at me as I speak. I am a trauma specialist, so why you are here is not like a sneak attack on me. It is hard, but I can help you, but you must talk to me. Now, shall we begin?”
He handed her the newspaper, which she put aside. She had read the paper already. On the front page was a picture of that stupid fucking house. The headline read, “Governor’s Son and Summer Home Used to Terrorize and Rape of State Inmate.” Below it was the picture they had taken of him when he was arrested. Of course, his name was imposed below it.
He said, “Honestly, I don’t have much of a sense of humor for shit like that. Is it me? Or am I already locked away in a state facility? What will they do next? Drop a bomb on me?”
She said, “I hope not while we are in the same room together. The paper should not have published that Max. So, you have every right to be upset. It is okay to be angry, Max, when there is a justified cause. I would say that it would make me angry as well.”
Her earnest reply was disarming, and she had put everything he was feeling into words. He waited.
She sipped her tea, got a writing pad, and wrote a name and a phone number. She passed him the paper containing the name ‘Henry R. Winfrey LLC’ and a phone number.
She said, “That is not usually a service I provide, but that gentleman I met when I was eight, and we have been best friends since. He might be the best-damned lawyer in the country. I know that, and the Governor’s actions would extremely offend his sensibilities.”
She sipped her tea and waited for him to speak further.
He said politely, “Thank you, Dr. Ensign. I am sure I will be calling this gentleman.”
“You are welcome, Max, so now he will flatten all that. Now, let’s talk about the most important subject we will ever discuss. That would be you. My sole purpose for the hours we spend together is you.”
Max said, “I am not spending countless months having you drag stuff out of me as I can simply inform you. The effect may be that I shock you, or you may not like me.”
She smiled again, “I sincerely doubt either, but give it your best shot.”
He said, “At the age of 18, I went out with two friends to celebrate, and we got drunk. My supposed friend, who is mentioned in the paper there, who is here, was driving too fast. Clipped a car, it rolled over, and killed a guy. As I tried to help the help man, that friend that raped me at that house in the paper threw me the car keys. I had a choice to come here or go to a state prison for 15 – 25 years.”
She held his gaze, “Go on.”
Max continued, “When I got here, I was being harassed by a gang because that is how this place is organized. It is encouraged, despite all my various talents. It turns out I cannot beat up a gang. Yet I could join the gang that beats up every other gang because I think most people find me attractive. The leader of that gang made me into his slave, and now I think I love him and am most likely gay.”
He waited for the response. Her face never changed. She was still smiling.
He continued, “I have a high sense of morality and try my best not to lie, and people constantly use it against me. I can’t tell you about some of them as I told them I would not. This is not a good place, but I am limited in telling you why.”
He finally stopped for now.
She said, “Is there more, or can I respond?”
He said quietly, “Please?”
She reached over, patted his leg briefly, and sat back.
She said, “First off, are you attractive? Yes, extremely, and it is surprising for someone sensitive, bright, and a budding intellectual. You pull it off, and I bet you are also a nerd. Or think you are?”
He said, “I am rather nerdy. I like books better than the world.”
She laughed for a second, “What’s to like? Max, I have not started canceling appointments yet. In case you are behind the times, it is 2024, and it is quite okay to be gay. 82% of the Western population says so. The real mental illness is recognized now, and the DSM-5 says that would be homophobia. It always was, and people have just now figured it out. You are in an alternative situation, but you are in a male-only corrections facility. Besides, around 30% of the free public swims in those waters. For those that haven’t caught on, the best episodes of the Andy Griffith Show were in black and white, and that was long, long ago. May I ask some sensitive questions?”
Max had not been prepared for this, “Sure, Dr. Ensign.”
She asked, “Your first sexual experience was in here? The studies say the average for most is around 14 -16, but not always.”
Max said, “Yes, I was always too busy with school. There is supposed to be much teen angst about such things. I never thought about it because school trumped everything else.”
She asked, “Your cellmate was the first?”
He looked down, “Yes, Ma’am.”
She said, “Max, look up at me. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Some therapists and LCSWs don’t know this, but I have dual PhDs. They give us secret information. Max, you didn’t choose how you are, as it is genetically determined. It is amazing to me that those types don’t get the clue – the men who spend years and women being in straight marriages because of the constraints of society. Twenty or thirty years ago, most gays were closeted. They have a marriage that is twenty years-plus long, two kids, and, suddenly, a boyfriend named Bob. Society forced them into it. No one gives a damn what those rednecks and ill-informed types think. What do you think about all of that?”
Max asked, “Then why do psychology books still say it is a blended trait or not just rewritten to say that?”
Dr. Ensign took a sip of her tea, “Because America has become a backward-assed society, where natural science is attacked, and books are thrown from libraries, and the average IQ is dropping. Some of us still read the studies and know how the scientific process works. What most people believe to be scientific now is mostly pseudo-science.
Max believed he could work with this woman. She was brilliant and straightforward.
She said, “Now, what we need to get into, Max, is your trauma, as it is the giant tamale in the room. I read my partner’s notes and agreed with his diagnosis. I must ask again, and I know it is sensitive, but I am a trauma therapist. I see this so much that people sometimes will omit it. It is better if I know you didn’t have any childhood abuse-type problems?”
Max told her, “No, Ma’am, I come from a good home, and nothing like that ever happened.”
She said, “I must ask one more. It is required. Have you ever had any suicidal ideation?”
He said, “No, Dr. Ensign, I want to live a long, productive life.”
She asked, “Before I ask, I know the answer, but the law is law. You ever think about harming anyone else?”
Max giggled, “No, Ma’am, I am a pacifist and don’t believe in violence.”
She wrote in his file, “I would like us to meet once a week here at this same time. Call Henry and keep talking to me. How do you feel about that?
Max said, “I don’t appear to be going anywhere. You are very pleasant to talk to.”
She sipped her tea and smiled, “With me, flattery will get you everywhere, Max.”
She was genuinely pleasant to speak with.
He said, “I would guess you have done this for a minute, as Dr. Fischer says?”
She replied, “Only since they were putting the pyramids up. That was a drag as sand got all over everything. I can help you, Max, but it will take blood, sweat, and tears. As most things worth a damn, they take work and effort. I will always do my part and carry you through when you cannot do yours. Deal?”
He said, “Deal.”
She handed him a journaling booklet, “I want you to write a daily reflection on this to say whatever you are thinking. Now for the most famous line in my trade. Our time for this session is up. I will see you out. I think you will be worth knowing, Max Stapleton. Next week, at the same time, if you are ever ill or can’t make it, here.”
She slid him a card with her private cell number on it. He left her office feeling okay.
He walked into his cell, and it was empty; Master was not back from class. He got the phone only to call his trauma team, put her number in it, and saved it. He had both their office numbers and private cellphone numbers.
Jonesy stuck his head in, “Sorry, Max, but the Warden wants to see you. Need an escort?”
Max answered, “Nah, I know the way there.”
Now, he was sitting across the desk from Warden Kenneth Stanton, matching bearings and preparing a firing solution.
He was going down the blue hall when a group with his Master came by. They smiled as they passed one another. They had something of significant importance to discuss later.
Warden Stanton threw a copy of the newspaper down on the desk, “What the fuck is this, Mr. Stapleton? This is getting way too close to me.”
Max said quietly, “You got lucky, sir. The house down the road had security cameras. Not positioned to see the driveway or where you pull on the highway.” You Motherfucker.
Warden Stanton, “How can you be so sure?”
Max said, “Because Agent Troy would be all over you otherwise. Throw them the ringer to explain how I got there. I gave my word, and thus far, your name has not been mentioned.”
Stanton grinned at him, “I knew I could trust you. Now get your school stuff sorted, and I’ll be back here later to work a couple of hours in the document room.”
Max shook his head, got up, excused himself, and headed back to the habitat.”
He walked in, and his Master sat at the work desk shredding some Calculus 1020 problem sets. His slave sat down next to him. He inspected the solutions, and they were elegant and correct.
The Master wore his usual shorts, had lost the t-shirt, and was still in his socks. Max reached under the table and zipped the Master shorts down. He reached down and, with a practiced hand, got inside his underwear. He loved the feel of his Master’s hardening giant cock.
The slave said, “You know what today is?”
His Master looked at him, “I know this is when Rahman had cleared you to be fucked again. I am unsure and don’t want to hurt you.”
His slave continued to rub his leg’s sensitive area. He said, “I know you can do it and not hurt me, and restrain me, please, while you do it. I need this. I have gotten used to you.”
The Master said, “Max, I have been talking to Rahman, and he says trauma can be complicated. I would never really do something that I thought would hurt you. I don’t want to push it too fast with this.”
The slave continued to rub his sizeable hardening cock, “Well then, don’t push fast as you do it. You know you can fuck me at any speed or rhythm you like. It is okay. I must have a life, and that is a part of life. I am not going to let that shithead take away from me.”
The Master leaned down, took the back of his head, and put his mouth to his lips slowly to his slave’s. He pushed his tongue into his mouth, and they began kissing.
The Master pulled away after a moment and looked at him, “You must surely know I would never want to do anything to hurt you. I got angry at you one time and smacked your ass, and I will smack it again, just not that way.
The big man got up, lifted him off the ground, and carried him to the bottom rack. He sat him down on the floor at the bunks and leaned down and kissed him some more.
He pulled away again, “Get those clothes off, let me close the curtain, hit it.”
Max started shedding clothing, “Yes, Master.”
The Master quickly went over and closed the privacy curtain, and he got back as his slave was now completely naked. The Master just looked down at him for a moment. He knew others here would say he was stupid for feeling this strongly for this slave. He did, nonetheless, and he had done some silly things. Caring for this one was not one of them.
The slave reached over and gingerly completely undid his shorts. He carefully pulled them down to his feet. The Master stepped one foot at a time out of them. His slave now reached and did the same with his underwear. He stepped out of those with one foot, then the other.
The Master reached over and got his set of handcuffs and ankle cuffs. He knew these were unnecessary, but the slave had grown to like them. If he liked it and improved the experience, fuck it, they were going on.
The Master said, “Turn your back to me.”
Maxwell Stapleton, his slave, was a specimen and attractive, and the master had his hands cuffed in no time. He wasn’t bratty, didn’t complain, and everyone loved him.
The Master said, “Get on your knees before the bunk where I sit and put your ankles close together. “
His slave got onto his knees in the proper spot. The Master dropped to one knee. He very quickly had his ankles cuffed and went around and sat down on the bed, positioned himself so his slave was between his legs. He leaned down, put a hand on Max’s head, pulled him in, and kissed him a bit longer.
Now, he was excited, and the raging boner between his legs was proof of that. He sat up finally, looking at his slave.
The Master said, “Suck on that big cock, slave Max. I didn’t think anyone in here could defeat me. You have and didn’t have to throw the first punch.”
He took a firm hand and angled his member out so that the servant could take it in his mouth and pleasure him. His servant was eager for this, so he leaned forward and licked around the large head of his phallus a few times. Then he began to move down on it. His muscular master placed both his hands on the back of his head. They remained mostly still. His hair always felt so pleasant.
His slave attacked his cock and very quickly slid to the root of it. He always made that feel so damned good. Max looked up at him and held it down in his throat for several moments. Then he started his magic of sliding up and down on it.
His Master went, “Oh Fuck, Yes, feels good.”
He watched his slave work on this hungrily for a few minutes. You could see by Max’s eyes that they were full of need and want.
As he worked, his Master reached over and got the bottle of good lube. He said he wanted it, and the Master wanted to, so they would go. He could quickly stop if there were a problem.
He pulled his slave’s head from his cock and said, “Get up here on the rack on your hands and knees, facing the bathroom.”
As his Master watched him get into place, he began slicking up his cock well with the lube. When he was entirely in place, he took and put a liberal amount of lube on his finger. He repositioned and was on his knees behind him. He took the lubed finger and applied it outside his hole.
Because of the cuffs, he had to place his knees outside his ankles. He put his head up to his slave’s hole, and he was the gentlest he had ever been with him before. This slave’s great looks, super personality, loyalty, and he was just fucking good demanded it.
It began to slide up inside him, and no aliens jumped out of anyone’s stomach. It was like it had always been. He grabbed two muscular hands on each side of his hips to help with his leverage. He pushed deeper until he was as deep as he could go. He began running the length of it in and out so slowly and gently.
He said, “Oh, my little Max, who is always so good, that feels so good.”
His slave had gone a while, and he was enjoying his Master inside of him.
He said, “Oh yeah, Master, feels good to me too.”
His Master began to go a slightly bit faster but was ever so gentle, and he took his right hand and reached around and slowly around his slave’s cock. He continued to run in and out of him, and he added to sliding his hand up and down his slave’s cock.
Richard asked, “Max, is this alright?”
His slave responded, “Fuck yes! It’s alright.”
The muscular Man was good at holding a steady rhythm, with both how he was fucking and how he was working his cock around him. This he knew he could never do without this slave was his. He was just as much property as Max Stapleton. It was unorthodox in this place, who gave a shit.
At close to the same time, they both began moaning.
The Master, “OH-FUCK!”
The slave, “Oh-Yes.”
The Master slowly got faster and began to burn as it had been too long.
The slave was the first to give, as both his prostate and his Master’s unyielding hand had both been busy. He began to shoot his load all over the top covering of the bottom bunk.
His slave said, “Fuck! Damn! Yes!”
He pushed his Master to speed up more because he was on the razor’s edge. The time was here, and he pushed up deep into the slave as he could go. He was grinning as Max did not cuss much but was also burning.
He popped deep up in that ass of his and shot time after time.
“Yes! Take it, all of it. I had been worried about this, but I am so glad we can again now!”
His slave said, “You can do this to me all you like, Master.”
Soon, they were both spent, and the Master had removed his slave’s bonds. He had asked to use the Master’s cellphone, so he sat at the work desk, and his Master was busy changing the bedding.
Max looked at the name and number Dr. Ensign had given him. It was labeled “Private Cell.”
He turned the phone on, waited for it to load, and dialed the number. On the fourth ring, a clear and strong-sounding male voice answered.
The voice said, “Hello, this is Henry.”
The slave said, “I am trying to reach Henry L. Winfrey. My name is Max Stapleton.”
Henry said, “You are talking to him, Mr. Stapleton. A mutual friend of ours told me I might expect this call?”
Max said, “I greatly need legal help. I don’t have access to money myself, but my parents do okay. They always help me if they can.”
Henry said, “I don’t need any money from you, Mr. Stapleton. I take a percentage of everyone I will burn to the ground in court on your behalf.”
Max said, “Everyone just calls me Max, how does this work?”
You could feel the warmth of this man through the phone: “Tell me that you want my services. I will meet you tomorrow. Folks call me Henry until I get them in the courtroom. Just give me a time. People who run that place know to be afraid of me.”
Max said, “I could use your services. I need help, and someone who impressed me greatly talked about you. I can make myself available anytime.”
Henry Winfrey, attorney at law, and a pure motherfucker if you faced him, a courtroom had been activated. He hated corrupt governmental systems and institutions. The state of Illinois just took a collective moan.
Henry said, “Let’s have lunch tomorrow. Expect to be signed out and dress appropriately.”
Max said, “I didn’t know that could be done?”
Henry said, “Watch me. I will see you at noon and am glad to be of service. I seem like an asshole sometimes, part of the job, but we will be friends.”
Max smiled, “Thank you, Henry.”
His lawyer replied, ” It’s my genuine pleasure, Max. Have a good night, and see you tomorrow.”
Max said, “Goodnight, Sir.”
He hung the phone up and looked at his Master.
His slave said, “I guess, as of now, I have a lawyer, Master.”
His Master said, “Good, it’s about time there was some justice in the universe.”
Max wrote an entry in his journal, and then the Master and his slave showered. Master tied him into his bunk, kissed him, and got into his.
[Flood Tubes 3 & 4, Then Bring Us Around and Plot a Firing Solution.]