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The Convict – Part 08
By Joshua Ryan
One of the officers carried my briefcase, and the other one led me by the arm. When we got to the top of the hill there was a woman jogging through the park. She had a cell phone on her someplace and she was talking into the air, the way they do, like they’re crazy people, and when she saw us she jumped back and put her hand on her chest like she was having a seizure. She looked at me like I was raping her at that very moment. Then she ran off, fast. No one had ever reacted to me like that before.
There was a black police car parked at the curb. One of the officers put his hand on my head and guided me into the back seat. His hand was gentle, in the way that hands are when they don’t want to touch something that they have to touch. The car door slammed. In 20 minutes, they were leading me into the Justice Center downtown.
I was surprised that they never read me my rights, but then I remembered — they didn’t have to do that anymore, now that the courts had approved all the new anticrime laws. There had been a conversation about that. I recalled it. A conversation in a bar. It was the night I first met Joey Madison. He was coming on pretty strong, so I told him, “You’d better back off. Otherwise, a cop is gonna show up and read you your rights.” “They don’t do that anymore,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. “They just drag you off to jail.” We both laughed.
The Convict – Part 07
By Joshua Ryan
I had to get in to work really early that day, because I was the person who was supposed to handle the year-end calls from the branches in other time zones. When I finally got to the lounge at 9 for coffee, the first thing I did was go to the deck and look at the convicts. I wanted to see if one of them was standing by the fence.
“Whatcha lookin for, Jason?” It was somebody’s voice. I remembered. It was Peter Tomlinson’s.
“Uh . . . nothing. . . . I . . . uh . . . Great day, huh?” It was another one of those days we have in winter when the sun is so bright you’d almost think it was spring already. At 9 o’clock in the morning, it must have been 55 degrees on that deck. It was sort of like the first day when I met the convict.
“Not really. Channel 10 says it’s gonna snow tonight.”
“That true? We almost never have snow in December.” What are you talking about? I asked myself. My eyes were searching the fence, searching . . .
“It’s true. Look at those clouds. Cirrus. We’ll have snow all right. Lotta snow.”
“Too bad. I wanted to wash the car.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I couldn’t believe I was making jokes.
“What are you looking at, Jason?”
“Just watching the convicts.”
“Huh?”
“The convicts. Down in the field.”
Pictures: Taking a beating
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Undercover – Chapter 3
By lthr_jock
Jim woke up the next day in his new bed. He lay there, arms crossed behind his head and wondered how he had got into the situation he found himself in last night. He had no idea how long he had been suspended in the frame – but by the time he had been released, he was dripping with sweat, his muscles were cramping and his cock was desperate for release. He could vaguely remember hands touching his muscles, fondling his crotch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember what happened next or how he got home.
His muscles still ached from his bondage yesterday, so he levered himself out of bed and took a long, hot shower to try and get the kinks out. Sitting down to some breakfast, he crunched his way through a bowl of cereal while typing out his first days report for the Inspector. He discretely omitted details about the events in Inferno, instead mentioning that he had made contact with the club owner. Sending the email, he sat back to plan his day.
New Years Resolution – Part 08
By lthr_jock
Paul hadn’t realised until then what a good friend Jay was. As Jay talked, Paul felt better, more relaxed and calmer. His situation wasn’t that bad – there were plenty of things he could do. Jay handed Paul another protein shake as he walked the big man around the park, constantly talking in a low voice that seemed to penetrate deep into Paul’s mind.
For over an hour, the two men walked around the park, Jay talking all the time, until the light began to fade as the sun went down. As they exited the park, Jay turned and put his hands on Paul’s shoulders.
“So, feeling better?”
“Yes – thanks, man, you really managed to put everything in perspective.” Paul sighed. “But I still don’t know what I’m going to do for a job.”
New Years Resolution – Part 07
By lthr_jock
Paul stood in the centre of the room staring straight ahead. In front of him was a mirror, allowing him to see himself. His torso and trousers were still covered in tight, laced and strapped leather. His feet were now covered in heavy black army boots. The only part of him that could be seen was his head. His eyes stared straight ahead, looking at his flushed face, topped by his straggly mop of hair. He didn’t blink, the only part of him that moved were his eyes, which looked up and down his reflection.
Paul began to notice changes. As he watched, his chest swelled under the leather, making it creak and groan. As he felt it tightening around him, he briefly wondered why it wasn’t making his breathing more difficult. Then he realised that he was breathing very slowly and very shallowly – so shallowly that it was almost impossible to detect. His waist seemed to be shrinking, narrowing and he could feel his stomach muscles hardening. The tight leather seemed to become looser around his waist, until hands reached around him and tightened the lacing and straps.
New Years Resolution – Part 01
By lthr_jock
Paul woke up groggy and stumbled into the bathroom. As his head spun he reflected that he was getting far too old to spend all night out drinking – he just couldn’t bounce back in the morning anymore. Blearily he stared at his unshaven reflection as he pissed in the vague direction of the toilet. Red rimmed eyes and an unshaven face stared back at him, looking more like his father every day. His greying hair had receded giving him a high forehead and as he looked down his belly stuck out over the rim off his shorts. Yes he was quite a catch – 43 and feeling every day of it.
His miserable ruminations were cut short by the unmistakable feel as he peed over his left foot. Groaning, he hopped around the bathroom, grabbing a towel to dry himself off before flushing and emerging into his bedroom.