All posts by Joshua Ryan

The WORC Program – Part 08

By Joshua Ryan

While I was thinking about all the things that could mean for my future (!!!), the dudes in jeans were putting me on the truck. I’m saying “on the truck” instead of “in the truck” because my place was in a cage attached to the bed. I would ride to the farm like an animal. No, not “like.”

The two five-gallon tubs of Slick It Off were nestling beside the cage. One of the dudes told me to stow my box behind them, and he unclipped the leash from my collar and handed it to the cop. I could see a lot of leashes hanging in the truck’s rear window; I guess they didn’t need any more. And was that a rifle sticking up between the seats? That or a shotgun! They’d be ready for me, in case I caused any trouble during my transport.

They opened the little gate to the cage, and I clambered in. You could tell that the cage wasn’t just a temporary part of the truck; it was bolted to the bed. There wasn’t enough room to stand up in, but there were little shelves on each side of it where somebody could sit. Just enough for four workies to be crammed inside. But today only one workie was out for delivery — me. I had the whole cage to myself.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 08

The WORC Program – Part 07

By Joshua Ryan

I don’t know how long it took for Grig to unlock the door and take me out of the room, but by that time all the other workies were back in their boxes. End of another perfect day.

“How’d it go?” Grig said. “Buyer like what he saw?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My job right then was not to break down in hysterical faggot tears.

“Too bad. Sergeant told me the guy’s got money.”

“Yeah. He does.”

“But I guess he’s lookin for somethin special.” We’d reached the door of my box. “In you go,” he said. And he locked me in for the night.

I hoped that morning would never come again, but it did. After that, every day was the same. The only difference was what I got to scrub or shine or wax–one or many times. Officers had a way of finding you on your knees, just finishing up your part of the hallway, and accidentally spilling your bucket all over it. “Too bad. Guess you’ll need to do it again, workie.”

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 07

The WORC Program – Part 06

By Joshua Ryan

Actually, it was like, two rooms, one for the workie and one for the shopper. On the shopper’s side of the room there were two or three nice comfy chairs and a nice wooden table, with something that looked like a big notebook or catalogue that was open on the top. Then there was a polished wooden barrier, about three feet high. Then there was a space. Then there was another kind of barrier. This one went from floor to ceiling and was made out of steel fencing. Yeah, the kind of thing they make fences out of. After that, you were in the workie’s room. Where I was. I don’t need to tell you that there wasn’t any furniture on my side of the room, unless you count the two cams hanging from the ceiling. The lack of furniture made it easier for me to pace up and down, waiting for someone—Mike!–to come through the door on the other side.

By the time he did, I was completely revved up. And he was looking his best. I always liked him in those long, loose sweaters. The drapery showed whatever muscles he had. Surprisingly, his new slacks were perfect. Despite my not picking them out for him.

“Mike!” I said, rushing to the fencing. “I’m SO glad to see you! And you’re right on time!”

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 06

The WORC Program – Part 05

By Joshua Ryan

Needless to say, I was exhausted. I was glad that the next thing they did was to lock us back in our boxes and feed us another workie bar. I gobbled the awful thing down and fell asleep on my awful, horrible bunk.

But just because I was calling it a day didn’t mean that Boss Drum was. I don’t know when, because without any clocks or cell phones to look at I was losing track of time, but at some moment that was way too soon there was a bang on the door and a key turning in the lock, and I had to STEP OUT and LINE UP and STAND AT ATTENTION while Boss Drum introduced us to yet another workie who was appointed to order us around. This one was a young black guy, very precise in the way he talked, and he was there to “start you workies off on your on-the-job training for your future positions in life.” The name on his shirt was Grig, and our first on-the-job training was washing floors. “And I’m gonna go ahead right now and tell you about how to do that.”

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 05

The WORC Program – Part 04

By Joshua Ryan

Maybe it was around 8 o’clock when they locked me in. I’d never gone to sleep that early in my life. And who knows how many hours it was till I took that shit? I was totally out of it. Totally wasted by these insults I’d received. But the morning came, signaled by a BANG on the door. A voice yelled “CHOW. Eat it all. NOW.” A little hatch opened in the door, and another dose of workie food dropped into my storage unit.

OK, I was hungry again. So I ate it. Sitting on my “bed,” with the crumbs dropping onto my naked junk. And hair growing on my face that I couldn’t shave off. And a collar around my neck!

I was just finishing my workie breakfast bar when the same voice went down the line saying, “It’s time! Take a shit and fold your blanket! It’s time! Take a shit . . . .”

I didn’t need to shit again, so I folded my blanket and laid it on my bed, hoping that I did it right. Then the door was unlocked. I saw another workie looking back at me. This one’s name was Drum. It was his voice that had been giving the orders. You know those guys that are so buffed out, their clothes don’t fit anymore? That was Drum.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 04

The WORC Program – Part 03

By Joshua Ryan

On the other side of the door there was very short hallway, with another door at the end. The first door was wood, but the next door was steel, and it had a lot of steel crossbars and rivets embedded in it. One of the WORC cops inserted a key and slowly swung the door open. Whoa! The thing must have been six inches thick! What the fuck! I saw a wide hallway leading back into the building. The floor was concrete, the walls were concrete, the ceiling was steel. Ugly? You bet.

There was a bunch of guys sitting on a bench in the hallway with their arms cuffed behind them. What do you think–maybe we were all there for the same purpose? More future workies!

“Sit,” one of the cops told me, and I dropped down next to the other guys. You probably never had to sit on a steel bench with your hands cuffed behind your back, so I’ll tell you–it isn’t easy. “And keep quiet,” the cop said. Then the two cops went on down the hallway and disappeared.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 03

The WORC Program – Part 02

By Joshua Ryan

I woke up pretty slowly the next afternoon. Mike wasn’t there. He must have seen how passed out I was and figured it wasn’t safe to get me up. He was probably at his office. Maria had left some coffee and a tray of croissants and fruit and little slices of ham—very tasty, despite her being a bitch. I gradually recalled what had happened the night before. I was just as mad as I was then, thinking about those mean things Jerry had said, and how he’d taunted me. And what I’d agreed to do. I’d agreed to become a workie! How did that happen? How could that possibly have happened? I was confused . . . . And at that moment, my phone went off. Jerry, of course. Why not?

“Carson? Mike’s not there–I guess I can talk to you. You remember what we talked about last night? Vaguely? OK. I called the guy at WORC that I mentioned last night, and he was free for lunch—actually, I think he always is. Some people are. So I fed him some drinks and he said sure, you can be a workie. Just like we planned.”

“Uh . . . ” I said.

“I left him a couple minutes ago. It’s all fixed up. All you quote need to do unquote is write something on social media about how great the WORC program is–great, but demanding. I know you won’t do that, and he knows that too. But it’s all set up. You’ll have your two days as a workie.”

“I . . . uh . . . .” Long pause.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 02

The WORC Program – Part 01

The WORC Program

By Joshua Ryan
Part 1

This is a story about adults, and for adults only.

It is also fiction. Any connection to real entities is purely coincidental.

 

OK, I admit it. I wasn’t a perfect boyfriend.

I guess I’d lost some interest. For one thing, Mike was 20 years older than me. Granted, he was in good condition. Nice face, nice eyes, nice hair, body still pretty much together—although I gotta say, he had about 15 pounds that he didn’t need. I’d been really interested in him at the start, and there was still something strong between us. I mean, it wasn’t like we NEVER had sex. In my way, I truly loved him.

And I knew I should be grateful to him. Mike had definitely done a lot for me. He’d put me through that last year of college, he’d got me a job afterwards, and he’d supported me totally when the job didn’t pan out. If he hadn’t paid off my debts after I quit that place, I don’t know what I would have done. I would’ve had to take some shit job, just to make ends meet. And like anybody could tell you, that wasn’t my style.

So obviously, Mike had money. Those investments of his had really paid off. Some guys have all the luck! So he could afford to bail me out that way. And I know, at his time of life, he enjoyed just having somebody staying around the house, looking nice for him when he got home.

I know he used to enjoy watching me napping by the pool, or just sitting in front of the mirror, making sure that my hair was right. It was all for him, really. A guy needs his boyfriend to take care of himself. And I wouldn’t have been half as hot if I’d had to go to some crummy office every day and miss my swim and my massage and my haircut and just worry every minute about paying my debts–when Mike had plenty of money to pay them anyway.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 01