Attitude adjustment

A white supremacist pays for his crimes and rediscovers some hidden truths.

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Attitude adjustment

Officer Smith looked at inmate 62254 with trepidation, glad that he was just one of five guards assigned to the man. Even with his ankles manacled and his arms cuffed behind his back, the man was still dangerous.

Smith looked at the prisoner who was dressed only in white cotton prison issue boxers. He was tightly muscled from a decade behind bars and his face, neck and torso were covered with black tattoos. The letters “AB” identified the man’s membership of the white supremacist clan, the Aryan Brotherhood, and his racist credentials were supported with swastikas, SS lightning bolts, the numbers 14 and 88, and even the name Adolf Hitler and a likeness of the man that racists idolised. Smith hid the disgust from his expression but the man in charge of the guards showed no such discretion.

Michaels was an African American war vet, built like an ox, and nothing appeared to scare him, in spite of the fact that he was everything that the prisoner despised. 62254 stared at him with cold hatred, but a leather face mask prevented the man from speaking. The mask’s purpose was to stop the inmate from biting; something he had once done to deadly effect when he tore open a guard’s carotid artery with his bare teeth. Nowadays, the man was classified as a AAA prisoner, and everywhere he was transferred, it was under maximum security precautions.

“Don’t stare at me like that Curtis, you don’t fucking impress me,” Michaels said.

A twinkle of mischief glimmered in the prisoner’s eye and he lunged forwards as though to head-butt Michaels across the bridge of the nose. Michaels didn’t flinch or show the slightest hint of concern. Instead he stared back at Curtis as the other three guards pulled him up short.

“You think you’re the big man Curtis, but you won’t be soon. Soon, all you’ll care about is taking it up the ass from a big man.”

If looks could kill, Michaels would be dead, but in spite of Curtis’s aura of menace, for once in his life his anger was impotent.

“Unshackle his legs and get them locked in,” Michaels said to another guard.

The guard dropped to his knees and removed the shackles from Curtis’s ankles, whilst another guard held the man’s legs together to prevent him kicking. When the shackles were removed, each of the guards firmly gripped a limb and dragged the struggling man’s legs into two shin-high leg restraints standing on the floor. As the man’s heels hit the back of the restraints, straps closed around his ankles and feet, making it impossible for him to remove his legs.

“Now his arms, and careful as you undo them, I don’t want to have to fry this motherfucker again,” Michaels said. “I’m not cleaning him when he shits himself.”

Michaels was referring to the taser he was holding, and which he had used to subdue Curtis in order for the man to be restrained. With the voltage set far higher than was permitted for law enforcement models, the side effect was a messy voiding of both bowels and bladder.

Working two to each arm, the guards carefully uncuffed Curtis’s hands, then forced them into restraints that hung at shoulder height. When both hands were in place, Michael’s pressed a button on the restraint unit, and cuffs within the restraint units tightened, making it impossible for him to escape.

“He’s all yours,” Michaels said, addressing a technician who had been hovering behind him.

The man stepped forwards and entered some commands onto a wireless tablet he was holding. The leg restraints moved apart two and a half feet. The man entered a further command, and the arm restraints lifted, stretching Curtis into a star shape resembling DaVinci’s Vitruvian man. The man’s muscles stood out along the side of his lean chest and all down his stomach.

“We need to put the spreader in his mouth,” the technician informed Michaels.

Michaels nodded to two of the guards.

“Take that gag off. And be careful.”

One of the guards undid the leather mask, and Curtis immediately turned and bit at him. Michaels calmly stepped forwards and grasped the convict’s head by the temples, and turned his head back to the front.

“Lock him in now,” Michaels said in an even voice.

Curtis spat out the last stream of invective that he would get to deliver for at least a year.

“Motherfucking cock suckers. You’re dead all of you are fucking dead. Your whore mothers are dead. I’m gonna skullfuck your children in front of you!”

Michaels responded calmly.

“No Curtis, YOU are the one who will soon be a cock sucker. You’ll be doing nothing. For the next year, you’re not even going to leave this room, much less hurt anyone else.”

He nodded to the guard, and the man lowered a frame made of curved metal bars over Curtis’s head. He quickly tightened a series of large screws, which pressed leather padded restraining clamps against Curtis’s head. In a minute, his head was completely immobile.

“Open wide,” Michaels said.

He pressed his index finger fore-knuckles into pressure points at the hinge on either side of Curtis’s jaw, and the man was forced to open his mouth. As soon as he did, a guard swung a metal frame between his teeth and locked it in place. It had rubber coated arms top and bottom on both sides. The guard twisted another screw-threaded handle and the arms opened, spreading Curtis’s jaws wide open. Curtis screamed and hawked up phlegm, but without the use of his lips, he was unable to launch it far enough to reach the black grinning face two feet in front of him.

Michaels raised his finger to his mouth.

“Shhhh, shhh.”

Then he jammed a soft rubber ball into Curtis’s mouth to muffle his screaming.

“You’re going to love this part Curtis. Now’s the bit where we shove a 10 inch dildo up your ass. Considering the number of men that you’ve raped since you’ve been in here, I’m sure you’ll fucking appreciate it.”

Michaels tore the man’s boxers from him, leaving the prisoner completely naked. Curtis was impressively well endowed. Even soft, he had a thick six tube of meat hanging between his legs, and fat, high-riding balls that would not look out of place on a young bull.

Michaels walked behind Curtis and reached down to the floor. There was a dildo on a rod which passed through a hole into the floor. The burly officer pulled the dildo and the rod extended. The officer pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then accepted the tube of lube that was proffered by the technician. He smeared a generous amount onto the unnecessarily large head of the dildo. With one hand, Michael’s spread the cheeks of Curtis’s surprisingly hairless ass. Curtis struggled and grunted, but he could do nothing to deny Michaels as the man positioned the head of the dildo against his exposed hole. The guard lifted the dildo, forcing it slowly into the thug’s tensed hole. If it was up to him, Michaels would have just jammed it up there, ripping the murdering rapists’ hole wide open, but then Curtis’s shit would taint his blood leading to septicaemia, and they’d have to take him to the prison hospital whilst he recovered.

So Michaels went slow, allowing the man’s hole time to adjust to the dildo. He used the opportunity to taunt the man.

“Do you like that Curtis? The feel of a thick cock in your ass? I bet you fucking do. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were already getting hard you racist piece of shit.”

To Curtis, being sodomised like this in front of all these other men was almost the worst insult imaginable and to make it even worse, it was an insult that he could do absolutely NOTHING to prevent. He growled like a feral animal, but in his mind he had gone elsewhere to distract himself. In his mind, he was already taking revenge on Michaels and the other guards. Curtis was imagining all the vicious things that he was going to do to the man when he eventually broke free.

Finally, Curtis’s hole spread, and Michaels forced 8 of the 10 inches of rubber up into him. When the dildo reached a mark painted onto its side, Michaels stopped pushing.

“Set,” he said.

The technician pressed a button on the control pad.

“Set,” he confirmed. “Testing.”

The technician pressed another button and the dildo withdrew by five inches, its nobbled and deeply ribbed surface stimulating Curtis’s sphincter on the way out.

The technician said, “Test.”

Michaels grabbed Curtis around the waist and tried to lift the prisoner off the dildo. He could not fully unimpale the man.

“It’s good,” he confirmed, verifying that Curtis would not be able to lift himself free.

He walked back to the front so that he was facing the prisoner, then cupped the man’s massive nuts in his fist. Each was the size of a small orange. He squeezed the helpless balls slowly, until Curtis grunted.

“Quite a set of nuts on you boy, and you’re gonna get to use ‘em too. See how they feel after you’ve cum five or ten thousand times. From what I hear, spending a few months being milked like a cow and cumming 20 times a day is either gonna kill your appetite for rape once and for all, or it’s gonna turn you into a dribbling bitch who‘ll do anything to cum. Course that won’t be a problem seeing as we’re also gonna be training you to crave cock. It’s my bet that in a year’s time, you’ll be begging to take another cock up your ass.”

Curtis looked at him with malice. Much as he wanted to stay in the imaginary place where he was stamping repeatedly on the black man’s grinning face, reducing it to a pulp of blood and bone, the man’s words forced themselves through his mental protective shell and now they were stabbing him right where it hurt the most.

Curtis remembered the first time he was touched against his will. He was 12, in the woods with an older boy; 17; Jared. They had hung together for a while, when Jared suggested that they jack off together. It was a game that the kid had taught Curtis a few months earlier, and it was one that Curtis was only too happy to play. Even then he’d had a long, if somewhat slender prick for his age, although not the hair to go with it. Jared seemed impressed. Except this time, things went different. Jared suggested that Curtis suck his dick, and when Curtis refused. The older boy forced him, and then raped him to add insult to injury. Walking home afterwards, the seat of his underwear bloody, Curtis felt like the biggest coward ever for not biting the kid’s dick off or fighting back harder. Two years later, Jared was Curtis’s first murder victim. Curtis lured him back to the woods under the pretence of a repeat performance, then bludgeoned him with a rock out in the same woods, before sodomising him to death with a branch. From that moment on, Curtis just became angrier and more violent, never able to erase the shame of the time when, in his mind, he didn’t fight hard enough.

But now, he was that powerless, sickened 12 year old kid all over again. He stared at Michaels with a hatred that almost choked him, as a lifetime of violence and compensation lead him full circle.

Michaels dropped to one knee. He gripped the neck of Curtis’s scrotum, trapping both huge eggs in the softly wrinkled, brown skin at the bottom. He pulled a Y shaped mount up from the floor. It looked like a tuning fork made of tubular steel coated in rubber. He pulled the fork across the stretched skin, holding the enormous balls down away from the convict’s body. Then Michaels pulled a lever and the horizontal fork lowered, stretching the scrotum still further. The ovoid lumps were each clearly visible, pressed against the now-tight skin. Michaels lifted another piece of equipment between Curtis’s legs. It looked like a large soap dish, but the inside curve was covered with dozens of small latex nodes that resembled tiny octopus suckers. At the centre of each one was a small metal probe. Michaels lifted the bowl-shaped device until it was pressed firmly up against the underside of his prisoner’s testicles then he locked it in place.

“In case you’re wondering what’s going on,” he narrated, “that thing you just felt against your nuts is the state of the art in testicle massage. Those tiny rubber things you feel are gonna drive your nuts wild, and the metal contacts are going to be lightin’ your balls like you’re a Christmas tree. They’re gonna make you so horny, you’ll be going out of your mind to cum. Within two weeks, your nuts will be making fifty times the jizz they make now, and you’re gonna need it! Time to give it a test.”

Michaels turned to the technician and the man activated the testicle stimulator. At once, every single one of the tiny rubber nodes started vibrating in tiny circles and pumping in and out. The pulsations moved around the surface of Curtis’s nuts in complex undulations that felt like tiny finger tips lightly tapping his nuts. Curtis tensed, surprised at how powerfully arousing the sensation was. Then the technician turned on the power and the contacts in each node transmitted a low voltage into the man’s testicles. Curtis jerked as though he’d been kicked in the nuts, but it wasn’t pain he was reacting to. The erotic sensations in his balls leapt a hundredfold. Although the current and the vibrations only played along the lower hemisphere of each testicle, he felt the sensations through every millimetre of his huge breeders. Curtis snorted and gasped as he tried to resist the overwhelming ecstasy he was feeling but he had no chance. The vibrations went straight to the root of his dick, and despite his disgust at being lit up in front of these men he despised, his cock rapidly thickened, rising like a canon preparing for firing.

Curtis felt his dick betraying him and he snarled his hatred through the jaw spreader.

“Like that do you buttercup?” Michaels asked, patting the multiple killer on the butt as though he was a girlfriend.

Curtis flinched and tried to move away from the intimate touch, but he was still impaled and helpless, so all he could do was twitch like a fish on a line as Michaels demeaned him in front of the other guards.

Curtis started to mentally add to the things that he would do to Michaels if he ever got the opportunity. Fantasising about violence was an activity Curtis usually enjoyed but this time he could barely concentrate as the maddeningly arousing feeling between his legs drew his attention. He could feel his dick straining as hard as it did for the hottest bitch he’d ever fucked. He knew it was the machine that was turning him on but did he have to be so motherfucking HARD?! He couldn’t see it, but his dick was pointing up at an angle of nearly 60 degrees like a horny teenager naked in front of his first fuck. Thicker than a can of Red Bull, 9 inches long, with veins bulging along its length, it looked as though he could fuck hippos to death with it.

Officer Smith looked at Curtis’s impressive tool and imagined all the women the man had raped with it. Then the image of that ugly brown meat being forced into the anus of one of his male victims flashed across his mind. Smith frowned in distaste and tried to push the thought away but he couldn’t help but imagine how much damage a cock that huge must have done on the way in.

A glistening bead of precum appeared at the head of Curtis’s cock. Michaels reached out with a thumb and roughly smeared it across the man’s bloated plum-like glans.

“You’re getting pretty heated there boy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be one of those homo-sex-yew-alls all along.”

Curtis could say nothing, and he wasn’t going to grunt like a performing monkey to let Michaels have the pleasure of knowing his taunt had hit home. He stared straight ahead in silence but his body betrayed him and he tensed his abs as he mentally pushed away the insult – and the excitement caused by Michaels’ touch.

Michaels patted the convict’s stomach.

“Nice abs but I don’t roll that way boy. No point in showing ’em off for me.”

More precum appeared at the head of Curtis’s cock. He was a drooler at the best of times, but with his balls working on overtime there was a small river of precum oozing from his cock twirling in slow motion like warm treacle. His dick started to twitch up and down as he body was turned on beyond endurance.

“Looks like you’re about ready to bust a nut there boy. Hold on a moment can you?”

Curtis had absolutely no control over his body. His nuts, his entire cock and his groin were just a single vibrating region of pleasure.

The technician pressed a button and the anal piston started working. Michaels moved out of the way and the technician moved in and pressed Curtis’s cock down with his left hand until it was pointing below 90 degrees. In his other hand, the technician held a glass beaker, which he placed over the purple head of Curtis’s cock.

Curtis felt the dildo thrusting into his hole and to his dismay, almost immediately he felt an orgasm building. He growled with impotent primal rage as he tried to hold it back but just 30 seconds after the anal piston had begun, the man was ejaculating into the beaker with an orgasm larger than any he ever remembered having in his life. The first spurt hit the glass bottom so hard that the technician could feel it hitting, and the subsequent squirts were long and fulsome.

Officer Smith looked away as the man came, as much for his own self respect as out of fear or gay panic, but his colleagues felt no such compunction and watched with fascination and hard dicks as the man delivered a third of a coffee mug of cum into the beaker.

“Well, well, looks like I was right about you Curtis,” he said. “All it took to get you to blow your load like a faucet bursting was a hard cock up your ass.”

Ridicule was not part of the treatment, but Michaels loved to goad men like Curtis: brutal men who had spent a lifetime asserting their masculinity upon others. Curtis’s entire existence was predicated upon his status as top dog; the pack leader that all the other dogs rolled on their backs for, and now, with his privates exposed to men he would not even consider worthy of spitting on, much less associating with, Curtis was being played like a bitch on heat. Michaels knew that there was absolutely no man on earth that could defy the irresistible combination of testicular titillation, electro stim and anal massage, but it gave him perverse pleasure to challenge Curtis’s manhood, especially as the man had such a hatred of blacks.

Finally the gusher of Curtis’s ejaculation slowed, then reduced to a few half squirts, then a dribble, then ceased. His nuts were aching from the epic orgasm but the machine continued to work on him, keeping him hard and horny. The technician turned the anal piston off. Curtis was relieved that it was no longer reaming him. Giving him feelings he’d rather not have. The feeling of fullness reminded him of Jared’s rape, but the undeniable pleasure as it had bumped across his sphincter was a sensation that nauseated him. Only faggots felt pleasure in their holes and he was no faggot. He was a faggot maker. A faggot killer.

Michaels took the beaker from the technician and lifted it in front of Curtis’s face. He sloshed the glass cup from side to side and Curtis’s thick semen slopped against the sides stickily.

“We have another treat for you Curtis,” he confided.

He yanked the rubber ball from Curtis’s mouth. The technician pulled an armature down from above the prisoner’s head. On the end, Curtis could see yet another dildo. It was black and extremely lifelike, right down to a heavy set of swinging nuts in a soft scrotum. The technician positioned the dildo by Curtis’s gaping mouth and typed on the pad to set the outer extent of its travel. Then the man pushed the dildo into Curtis’s mouth. Curtis screamed in rage as the prosthetic negro penis was pushed into his mouth. His scream came to a gurgling end as it pushed against the back of his throat. The technician pressed a button to calibrate the inner limit. Curtis could feel a weighty pair of simulated balls in a hairy scrotum resting against his chin. He was incensed at the violation, but in spite of his rage and his fierce survival instinct, Curtis would happily have died then and there rather than suffer another second of this powerless indignity.

“You’re probably thinking that we’re doing all this just to humiliate and break you boy,” Michaels said, “and you better believe, if it was down to me, that would be reason enough. But the fact is, the eggheads have discovered that if macho males like you can be turned into gay, cum slurping whores, it tends to calm you down. That’s what all this is about. You’re going to spend the next year hooked up to this thing.”

Curtis’s eyes widened in near hysterical horror.

“In a minute, we’re going to pull down a hood, and it will transmit non-stop porn straight to your brain, 18 hours day, EVERY day. Gay porn. And while it’s playing, you’re going to feel your hole filled, and balls slapping against your chin and a fat black dick in your mouth, all in perfect time with the action. And there’s NOTHING you can do to keep it out of your head or stop yourself from being turned on.”

Curtis was completely helpless, his body and his soon mind, under the control of these tormentors. His throat was filled. He snorted his fury through his nose but it came out sounding strangled and weak and that made him even angrier. He couldn’t even move his head to give a cold stare to the guards around him in an attempt to intimidate them. He stopped making noises and stared stoically straight ahead, determined not to give Michaels any more sport than his predicament was already providing.

“Now I know what you’re thinking Curtis, just ‘cause you have to watch gay porn, don’t mean you have to enjoy it right? Ain’t nobody gonna force you to get into it huh? Wrong. Those electrodes on your nuts don’t just turn you on, they can stop you cumming. The only reason you popped your cork just now was because we LET you. So here’s how it’s gonna work. One day, you get to get cum 10-20 times, all in perfect time with the action. Sure, you’re gonna know it’s all just a fake reality, but your dick ain’t gonna know the difference. Your hole ain’t gonna know. Your mouth ain’t gonna know, and pretty soon, you’re gonna start finding the lines blurring in your head.

Then the next day, you get to suck virtual dick and take virtual meat in your hole, all while being turned on like a dog in heat, but this time you don’t get to cum until everyone else has cum. That’s gonna be 10-20 black dicks you get to service. That’s gonna take an hour or two each time, and all the while you’re so horny you’d kill your own mother to get off. But you can hurry it along by sucking that meat in your mouth and squeezing on the chopper in your asshole. And that’s gonna repeat five or six times a day.

I guess you’re starting to figure how this is gonna work out for you. One day cumming non-stop, and the next desperately sucking dicks so that you get to cum.

Now I know you think you’re a tough guy, but I guarantee you, just a couple of weeks of that routine, and cock is gonna start to look pretty good to you, black or otherwise. Within a week most are men so desperate to cum that that they suck dicks like they were natural-born faggots. You all think you’re so fucking dangerous and brave ‘cause you can take pain, but not one of you can deal with ecstasy without blubbing like a baby who lost his pacifier.

In your case, I realise you’re something special, so we’re using an extra piece of equipment, just to make absolutely sure that you enjoy the experience.”

Michaels pulled down one more piece of equipment from above Curtis’s head. It was a long articulated hose. The long curving shape and livid crimson colour put Curtis in mind of a stallion’s hard dick as it was preparing to mate.

Michaels paused with the head of the hose a couple of feet in front of Curtis’s eyes. It was transparent and filled with small flesh-coloured nodules, like the densely packed villi inside a human intestine. They were awash with slippery lubrication. Curtis looked at the device. His brow was deeply furrowed and his expression of seething hatred remained undiminished but his sense of trepidation grew.

On cue, the technician pressed a button that activated the head, and all of the tiny fleshy nodules stared waving and rippling.  The movement had been inspired by the feeding mechanism of a sea anemone.

“I’ll give you one guess where this is going,” Michaels said.

Curtis had already figured as much and he refused to show any reaction to the guard’s comments. Instead he stared ahead, doing his best to project an air of detached indifference.

Michaels pulled the device down until it was in line with Curtis’s straining penis, then he placed the end over the man’s swollen glans. It closed, enveloping the entire massive helmet in a tennis ball-sized mass of short roiling latex buds.

In spite of himself, Curtis let out a trembling gasp, “Uh-h-h-hu” as it touched him.

He was shocked at how intensely pleasurable it was. He tensed his stomach again in a futile effort to resist it.

“Yeah, that’s how most guys react,” Michaels acknowledged.

A couple of the guards snickered at Curtis’s reaction.

Curtis was holding his rock hard abs tense and breathing in short gasps as he struggled against the tiny nodules that were teasing every millimetre of his glans. He was forcing himself to direct his thoughts away from the almost unbearably arousing feelings in his groin. He was out in the woods again, this time hunting with his father: the man who had first taught him to hate blacks. It was a time when he was happy. Before Jared. Before his father had left them.

But his thoughts wouldn’t hold. He was being fucked again by Jared. And a small part of him was actually enjoying it. And he was sucking his friend’s cock. But it was his own cock. And the images were becoming confused.

He suddenly noticed to his dismay, that the tiny nodules were warm. Like the inside of a whore’s mouth.  It was too much and then he was cumming again. It was less than a minute since the hood had been placed over the head of his cock and less than five minutes since the biggest orgasm of his life, and already he giving up another huge load.

The guards saw Curtis’s thick jizz squirting into the transparent part of the milking head and chuckled. Michaels moved close and patted Curtis on the cheek like a Don bestowing his approval.

“Yeah boy, we’re gonna have no trouble breaking you. No trouble at all.”

Michaels lowered the hood over Curtis’s head and the technician activated the projector. In Curtis’s mind, he was in a room with two black men. He was on his hands and knees. One was behind and the other was in front. He knew it was just an illusion. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the images and tried to scream against the cock that was filling his mouth to mask the sound of their voices but nothing worked. The men started fucking him at both ends and he could feel the dildos pumping in and out. He went crazy, wriggling against his bonds, but he could barely move. He knew that the cock in his mouth was just heated latex but it felt so real as the head slid back and forth across his tongue. The one in his rectum was sliding in and out in perfect timing with the pumping of the man who was fucking him.

And worst of all, he was so turned on; so motherfucking hard.

“Yeah man, you take it good,” the man slowly pumping his ass was saying. “If you squeeze and make it good for me, I’ll make it good for you after I cum.”

Curtis knew that he was being programmed and he fought against it with every ounce of his mental strength. But already, a small part of him wanted to clench his anus so that the black man inside him could enjoy the experience more and let him cum. Just as he had with Jared. Why had he cared if Jared enjoyed fucking him? He’d wiped that from his memory of the event. And the fact that he had a boner when Jared was fucking him. And the fact that he’d cum before his friend had.

And now the machine would not let him cum. His cock stood rigidly to attention, its head bloated like an over-inflated balloon. His nuts felt to Curtis as though they had swollen too. His entire groin was just one huge glowing mass of arousal. In spite of himself, he started raising his groin towards the milker, thrusting to hasten an orgasm that would not be permitted for two more hours yet.

Curtis heard the guards laughing as they left him to his exquisite torment…

Epilogue – One year later

Curtis had his arms cuffed behind him as the guards led him to his new cell. The door opened, and three pairs of eyes turned towards him. He stared back at his new cellmates, then entered to cell willingly. The door shut behind him. He looked at his black cellmates one after the other. They stared at his racist tattoos, then grinned.

“On your knees boy,” the largest of the men said.

Curtis complied without question, leaning his chest on a bed. The man moved behind him. The other two moved to the sides ready to restrain Curtis if needed. The man pulled Curtis’s boxers down around his knees. Curtis raised his ass ready to be fucked.

“This bitch is already fucking hard,” the man to his left said.

Curtis looked over his shoulder with a smile.

“Well, are you gonna do it?”

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