You Bet Your Ass! by Throne (Patreon)

You Bet YOUR ASS!

By Throne

© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

YOU BET YOUR ASS by Throne

Billy considered the clothes  hanging in the spacious closet in front of him.  He fingered the fine  material of several shirts.  Of course, the bar they hung from was lower  than was usual.  That was because Billy  himself was shorter than most men.  He was a jockey, so he had to keep  his weight down, too.  It made him self conscious to be out among tall  people, which was one reason he had used much of the money he earned  from being at the top of his field, as well as  what he had gained from investments, to buy his impressive sprawling  home.  The other reason was that he liked to jealously hide his wife  away from other eyes.  Billy and Tatianna had been married for nearly a  year now.  Her height was superior to his by a  few inches.  He didn't mind that because of her sweet face and stunning  figure.  Long blond hair framed soft features and pouty lips.  Though  she was trim, her bust and bottom were plumped up.  Billy loved that  about her.   Sometimes he would just gaze at  her generous curves while she moved around a room.  Simply being in her  presence got him aroused.

The way she affected him  wasn't a problem.  Tatianna was always available for sex.  There was  plenty of foreplay, with her catering to his desires, and he would mount  her eagerly, to release the tension that built  up inside him.  What he didn't notice was that she was always somewhat  distracted.  And that she never had orgasms.  He knew that his penis was  on the small side but just figured that size didn't matter, so long as  you had technique.  Unfortunately for his  wife, he lacked that too.  For her it was a mixed blessing that his  shortcomings included a lack of staying power.  He always finished too  soon.  But because his dick was too small to satisfy her, she was happy  to get everything over with sooner rather than  later.  

Sometimes while they were in  bed together she would remember her former life.  Tatianna had been an  exotic dancer at a wild club in a rough part of the city.  She hadn't  minded that guys drooled over her and got  free with their hands.  They were also very free with their tips, and  she adored money, loved spending it, even recklessly.  Besides, if a guy  got to grabby with her, the club's owner would step in and take care of  him.  Marquis was a tall rangy Black man  with sharp features, his hair worn short and natural, who sported a  neat mustache and soul patch.  The way her looked after Tatianna had  always made her feel grateful and attracted to him.  They had been more  than friends for nearly a year before she met Billy  and saw his impressive home and two cars, along with all the other  trappings of the fancy life she had long craved.  As much as she hated  to leave Marquis, she couldn't say no to the jockey's lavish lifestyle.   And he couldn't turn down her seductive charms  and irresistible body.  

Billy's mind drifted as he  laid out clothes on the bed and then went into his private bathroom.  He  looked over the many products he had lined up on shelves.  Billy was  fastidious about his grooming and meticulous  about his soft blond hair.  He plucked his eyebrows, but just enough to  keep them neat.  Because a shiny nose was unacceptable to him, he  regularly used medicated pads to remove oil from that area.  He had  never had much facial hair and there had been even  less on his body.  Rather than have to deal with shaving, waxing or  depilatories, he had opted to have laser treatments.  All that hair had  been permanently removed.  He likened it to how competitive swimmers  kept their bodies totally smooth.  

The end result of all those  personal choices was that he appeared less then manly.  It didn't help  the impression that he was also fussy with clothing and décor.  Most  damning, when it came to how he was perceived,  was that his natural way of moving was delicate and suggestive of  femininity.  But because he made so much money for his employers, and  was a celebrity in the racing world, and had a beautiful wife, he was  sheltered from what many people secretly thought.   Billy had it all.  And to make his life perfect, there was a major race  coming up that he expected to win.  The horse loved to run, the track  was a favorite of his, and there was just enough competition that he  would still have to show a great effort, which  reflected well on him.  And then his life began to unravel.  

"We need to talk," Tatianna said, one afternoon about a week before the big race.  

She had on a tight  sleeveless top with no bra underneath, along with slacks that looked  like they were painted onto her plush bottom and shapely legs.  Her  small feet were shown off in high heel sandals.  Tatianna  even had her golden hair back in a long ponytail, which she knew Billy  loved.  His hope was that what she wanted to talk about was sex, because  he was overdue and that made him antsy.  

"Sure," he said, sitting on their ornate antique couch.  He patted a spot next to him.  "What is it, honey?"

His bride didn't put herself  where he had indicated.  Instead she sat on an expensive wingback chair  across from him.  Damn, but she looked delicious.  Billy's confidence  was high.  He even felt good about where  he was seated.  The couch, like most of their furniture, had been  selected partly because it was scaled for someone small like himself.   Having to use full size furniture irritated him, especially when his  feet almost but not quite reached the floor.  

"It's about money," she said.

"That's not a problem," he assured her.  "You handle the finances, so you know how much we have."

"That's the thing.  We have a  lot less than you seem to think.  I had to cash in some of your  investments.   The improvements I've made around here added up.  And you  know I like to treat myself to a gift or two  now and then."

He did know that she could  spend money like it was going out of style.  On the other hand, he  hadn't been aware of her liquidating some of his investments.  

"Well," he told her, not quite as confident as before, "I'm sure we're still okay."

"Not really."  Her natural  pout became more pronounced.  "You see, the way you keep me cooped up  her, I got kind of restless.  Especially when you were out of town,  teaching that horse or whatever."

"Training, dear.  I was training the horse I'm going to ride.  I mean,  the trainer does most of that, but I was there to work with him and...    But that's not important.  What were you starting to say?"

"It's just that I get lonely and bored.  So I went to visit my friend Marquis."

"You mean, from the club?  Where you used to... dance?"

"Yeah."  She smiled as if  that was good news to her husband.  But then her face clouded over.   "And he let me do some gambling.  And hooked me up with some people who  could sell me jewelry at a huge discount.   And then there was a car, which he lets me keep at his place."  She  paused to observe the sick look on Billy's soft face.  "But mainly it's  the gambling debts.  I'm in trouble Billy.  And I don't owe the money  directly to Marquis.   There are some bad people  involved.  So I need you to figure out how we're going to pay them."

Billy felt like the room was  tilting.  He couldn't believe what he had just heard.  Though he was  afraid to hear the answer, he asked her how much money she was talking  about.  When she told him he nearly swooned.   His beardless cheeks got pink and then went pale white.  He leaned back  and put his hands flat on the sides of his face, making himself  resemble a girl in distress.  His wife watched silently.  When she  thought enough time had passed, she made a suggestion.

"What if you lost that race,  Billy?  I mean, if you bet against yourself and then, you know, sort of  didn't win on purpose.  Couldn't you make a pile of money that way?"

"I could, but it wouldn't be worth the risk."

"Are you saying that I wouldn't be worth it?  Your own wife?"

"No.  I mean, it's not like that.  Think about how much I'd be risking."

"Why don't you think about what might happen to me if I can't cover my debts."

"But, if anything went wrong, I'd be ruined.  I would lose everything."

"I know.  So what you could  do -- not that anything bad could really happen -- but just to make  yourself feel better, you could switch everything over to my name.  That  way, if the plan hit some little snag, just  in case, they couldn't touch anything because it would all be owned by  me.  After it was all over and everything actually did go right, we  could just change it back.  See?  And if you bet enough, not only would  my debts be covered, but we'd make a ginormous  profit."

As awful as it had all  sounded at first, he had to admit that it was a simple and almost  foolproof plan.  It would be easy enough for him to throw the race.   There were at least three other horses in the field  who had a chance of winning.  And she was right about everything else.   Tatianna wasn't usually that clever, though she did have a natural  instinct for acquisition.  He brought his head back up.  She looked so  ravishing, and dependent on him, as she sat there  waiting for his answer.  

"Let me think about it," he said.  "I mean, I'll do whatever it takes to save you, darling."

"I knew I could count on  you, lover.  Just to be sure, though, we should take care of the legal  end right away.  You can tell your people that you're thinking of a new  venture, so you want your assets in my name  for right now.  All your assets."

"Sure," he told her.  "That makes good sense."

So they did that and he  began running over in his mind, several times a day, how he would ride  in the race.  What he would do if there was no clear second choice to  win, once they were moving.  How he would get  in the way of the wrong horse if it tried to take a lead.  He also  decided to commit completely, by betting every cent he could afford, and  more.  Why not?  It was a sure thing, with him deciding the outcome of  the race.  

All the excitement made him  even more horny than usual.  Unfortunately, the same plan that had him  aroused, anxious to release some of his excess energy in bed, had the  opposite effect on Tatianna.  She was too  jittery to do anything sexual.  Her explanation was that, even  though she trusted the scheme, she was concerned about him, and his  state of mind.  He tried to make her see that all he needed was to empty  his balls, but no matter how discretely he said it,  she found some reason to demure, and it was always because of how much  she cared for him.  The added stress unnerved Billy, so much that he  began to doubt his ability to throw the race without being detected.  He  decided that the only safe thing to do was  to dope the horse.  Not a lot.  Just enough to insure that its winning  advantage was reduced.  He could do the rest.  

The day of the major event  came.  There were endless television cameras at the track.  Reporters  everywhere.  Even a drone hovering overhead.  He asked for a moment  alone with his steed, just so he could relax  the animal, and that was when he administered the mild dose of the  drug.  They would test for performance enhancing drugs, but wouldn't do  anything to check if he had tried to reduce its ability to run its  best.  He was soon at the starting gate.  His bet  was placed with a discrete bookie.  Everything was ready to go.  

The bell rang and they were  off and running.  Billy's mount, Fiery Fury by name, took an immediate  lead.  Soon, however, she tired prematurely as the drug did its work.   He made a minor effort to keep her from  overcoming the handicap, at the same time acting like he was trying to  do the opposite.  His plan had been to have her come in second, but she  fell back to third.  That might arouse some suspicions but not enough to  matter in the end.  He made sure the horse  his money was on had a clear path to victory.  

Afterwards, most of the  attention went to the first and second place winners.  He was asked what  had gone wrong and just said that even the best horse could have a bad  day.  But then everything fell apart.  Someone  had tipped the authorities, during the race, that he was going to throw  it.  When they checked for the type of drug he had used, it was  in Fiery Fury's system.  A quick search of the stable turned up the  hypodermic he had used, with his incriminating fingerprints  on it.  He was busted.  But the bookie would still pay off, with all  the money going to Tatianna. 

When he tried to contact  Tatianna about getting him a lawyer, she didn't respond.   There was a  brief day in court.  Billy was sentenced to three years in prison.  He  couldn't believe it.  His career was ruined.   His only consolation was that his home and cars and remaining wealth,  including the payoff from his bet, along with future income from his  untouched investments, were all safe in his bride's hands.  Thank  goodness for that. 

He was in a detaining cell,  waiting to be transported to the penitentiary, when she came to visit  him.  Tatianna looked alluring in a fitted skirt suit, businesslike and  yet super sexy.  She had on a pillbox hat  that added to the dual effect.  Billy picked up the phone that would  connect him to her.  She gave him an encouraging smile as she sat down.   Picking up the receiver in front of her, she held it slightly away from  her mouth and ear, as if it might be germ-laden.  

"Hello, Billy," she said, not sounding overly concerned.  "It's so sad how you got yourself into all this trouble."

"I did it for you, darling," he insisted. 

"Nice try," she told him without emotion.

He said, "I'm sorry I won't be around to take care of you."

She responded, "That's  okay.  Marquis will keep an eye on me.  He put a big bet on the horse  you made win, and cleaned up.  I mean, you made him a rich man."

"But what...  How did he know?"

"Wasn't I supposed to tell  him?  Sorry, dear.  But it works out well, because he's offered to help  me in any way he can for the next 36 months.  While you're all locked  up.  With a lot of big sweaty men."

"What are you saying?"

"Just that I'll be thinking  of you, Billy boy.  I hope it won't be too rough for you, being the  smallest guy in the joint.  Having everyone else look down on you.  And,  you know, noticing how you're not exactly  the macho type."

"I don't understand."

"Sweetlips.  With your  perfect haircut and sleek hairless body, plus the way you hold yourself  and place your hands.  I mean, people were always asking me if you were  secretly gay.  That is, when you didn't have  me locked up at home like your private sex slave.  That's such a  terrible way to feel, as if someone is treating you like their property,  and thinks they can paw you or get their cock I your mouth, or just  bend you over and have their way with you, whenever  it suits them.  Now I won't have any of that.  Not from you and your  tiny dick.  But what you'll be getting, well, I can't wait to hear all  about it on visiting days.  That is, if I'm not in my house, managing  all my wealth and property that you so helpfully  put into my name."

"That was your suggestion.  And I'd be okay if somebody hadn't tipped the law about our plan."

"Your plan," she corrected.  "And it certainly was rotten for whoever did it to screw you over that way."

The wheels in his mind were  turning.  He said, his words coming more slowly and with less force,   "And you let Marquis know about the race."

Before he could accuse her  or finish putting the pieces together, she got up and cradled the  phone.  He was still talking into his end when she made an air kiss  toward the unbreakable barrier between them, turned  and, giving him one more look at her fantastic rump, wiggle-walked out  of the room.  The guard assigned to Billy during her visit towered over  the jockey, even after the little figure stood up.  

"Damn fine woman," the  official said with a grin.  "I'm sure she'll behave while she's waiting  for you for... how long are you in?... a year?"

Billy's narrow shoulders slumped.  "I'll be there for three years."

The guard didn't bother to stifle his laughter.  "Yeah.   She'll wait for you, short stuff."

He gripped Billy's upper arm  and walked him away from the visiting area, toward the pick-up room.   All too soon a van arrived and Billy was hustled into it.  There were  already two convicts in there, both of them  tough looking, one white guy with a shaved head and endless tattoos,  and a hulking Black man with massive hands.  They both scowled at him,  making Billy avert his eyes and wish he could become invisible.   Everything Tatianna had said was fresh in his mind.   What she had implied dominated his thoughts.  He had assumed he would  be going to some sort of country club facility.  Had someone pulled some  strings to make sure he went to the hellhole that he now understood was  his destination?  And what would be waiting  for him when he got there?

Billy was unceremoniously  ordered out of the van and told to walk only between two close-together  white lines as he entered the processing section of the imposing  prison.  He was dwarfed by the guards, who had  been chosen partly for their size and strength, so they could deal with  violent convicts when needed.  But no one was concerned about handling  any trouble from Billy.  They smirked openly at the tiny man.  The three  prisoners were taken to a shower room and  told to strip.  Billy was highly uncomfortable being naked in front of  other men, but he had no choice.  When he was naked and everyone saw his  lack of body hair and how small his genitals were, he became a  laughingstock.  He cringed and blushed as he moved  under the hard spray from the showerheads, soaped up, and rinsed off.   He had to stand in front of noisy hot air blowers until he was dry, with  everyone's eyes on him.  

At last he was able to  escape that shame as the trio was taken to be given their uniforms.   There was a convict in green, which identified him as a trustee, at a  small window.  The other two men had their sizes  estimated by him and were given appropriate clothing -- baggy orange  jumpsuits.  Billy stood there, still nude, while they got dressed.

The white guy sat down and said to the jockey, "How about you sit on my lap and we'll talk about the first thing that pops up."

The Black con told him, "I'd  rather you just got on your knees and sucked my cock.  But I guess  you'd like that, being a faggot and all."

Billy's voice quavered as he said softly, "I'm not gay."

The big man asked angrily, "Are you calling me a liar, boy?"

When Billy turned to the  guards for help they just chuckled at his plight.  He returned his  attention to the Black man and was relieved to see that he had already  lost interest.  Then he checked the trustee to  see if he was ready yet with a uniform for him.  He handed something  over and Billy was grateful that he would be able to cover himself.   Then he unfolded it and saw that though it was orange, that was the  limit of how it matched what the others had been given.   Instead of being big and baggy, with long sleeves and legs, it was  close fitting and had no sleeves and the shortest of legs.  

The trustee smirked at him  and said, "We were told you were coming and that you're too small for  our usual... fashions.  So one of the inmates, a fairy who has access to  a sewing machine and supervised use of  scissors, modified one for you."  

"Who... who told you?"

The man in the window  shrugged.  "Don't know.  Don't care.  But whoever it was had your size.   Maybe somebody who knows you personally.  Anyway, you might want to get  into that now.  Standing around in the all-together  in this place, especially if you're small and shave your body, isn't a  great idea.  That is, unless you enjoy being raped.  Which from the way  you act, maybe you do."

Billy put a forearm across  his chest and the opposite hand over his privates.  Then he realized  that he was assuming a feminine posture of modesty.  He put his hands at  his sides but that was too shameful.  So  he quickly got into the clothing, inappropriate though it was.  When he  looked down at himself he saw his hairless limbs being shown off, his  slender waist accentuated, and -- he could tell by putting his hands  behind him and touching -- his pert bottom displayed  by how the garment clung to it.  Billy sighed and followed the other  two cons to their next stop.  

Here they were to have their  heads shaved.  The Black guy objected and was told that everybody got  the same haircut.  The white con was already bald, so they just went  through the motions to be thorough.  When  it was Billy's turn, and he was in the barber chair with his feet  hovering above the footrest, the con with the electric razor worked on  the sides of his head but left the top alone.  He used some type of  spray product that he brushed through the longer hair  that remained, covering some portions of his scalp but not all.  When  he was done, Billy got a look at himself in a mirror that was set in a  recess in the wall, with bars in front of it.  What he saw was a girly  version of himself, with a cute, short-sided hairstyle,  including streaks of red through the longer blond on top.

"I don't want to look like this," he told the barber.  

"What?  You wanted pink streaks instead of red?  Hey, I can't cater to all you fairies who get into the program."

"Program?"

"Yeah.  They have this deal  where princess types like you get to play dress up, because it's part of  your whatever.  Your personality or something."

"But I'm not that way," Billy asserted, though rather feebly.  

"You may not be now, but try telling me that in a week or two.  Now move it, sugarplum."

Billy numbly followed the  other two cons into the main cellblock.  From the three tiers came hoots  and hollers.  Rough male voices called out lewd suggestions to him.   They honestly did mistake him for a homosexual.   How had he been entered into that program for prisoners who actually  preferred to look this way?  Who did that to him?

The three new arrivals were  herded along by two guards, both of them so much taller than the  jockey.  The white guy and then the Black one were admitted to their  cells.  At the far end of the row a door was automatically  opened and Billy was shoved inside.  The heavy metal barrier clanged  shut and he looked out through the bars at the departing officers.  When  he turned around to inspect the interior of his cell he discovered that  he wasn't alone.  There were two other convicts  in there with him.  Both of them tall and muscular.  Both of them  Black.  One had a lean hungry look and lines razor-cut into his short  hair along both temples.  The other was bulkier,  He had a shaved head  and a thick mustache that turned down at the corners  of his wide mouth and dropped to the line of his broad jaw.  They  inspected Billy as if he was a savory meal and they were starving.  

"Hey," said the first one.  "I'm Kendrick.  What's your name, boy?"

"I'm Billy."

"No, your name is Sweetmeat.  Right?"

Too scared to disagree, he squeaked out, "Yes, Sir."

"And I'm Turk," said the other.  "Looks like you really are some sweet meat."

"I... I'm not..."  Billy's  mouth was suddenly dry.  Speaking barely above a whisper he told them,  "I'm not that way.  I'm straight."

"Oh."  Kendrick nodded.  "My mistake.  Guess we won't be able to do no sex stuff with you."

"Too bad," Turk offered.  "I was looking forward to shoving my cock down your throat, for starters."

"But you ain't gay."

"Not a fruit."

"Can't call you Sweetmeat."

Billy managed a hopeful smile.  "That's right, fellows.  I'm married and everything."

"Got it," Kendrick said.   But then his dark brow creased.  "Still, we got to give you the test.  I  mean, that's the rules.  Right, Turk?"

"Right, my man.  Got to follow them rules."

"I don't..."  Billy swallowed with difficulty.  "... understand."

"See," Kendrick went on, "we  got to be sure you're not one of them closet gays.  Like trying to  trick us.  Saving your goodies for some other dudes.  That wouldn't be  fair to us two."

"Not fair," Turk emphasized.

"So we going to just do that little test.  Won't take no time at all, boy."

"But I already told you..."  Billy began.  He stopped when his protest was answered with angry  glares.  "All right.  I guess I can take your test.  What's the first  question?"

"It ain't like a school  test," Kendrick told him.  "More like a army physical.  Got to check for  the sissies.  Cause you know there's some white boys, kind of like your  own self, who got that gay thing going but  don't tell nobody.  They got the craving for it.  Just give them a  tickle, maybe let them get they hand on a big old Black cock, and it all  comes out at once.  All of a sudden it's gay time for them.  Can't keep  their mouth off the jungle jawbreaker."

"Right," seconded Turk.  "That African ass buster."

"So you just relax and let us check you out.  That way we can tell all the other dogs you ain't no fag."

"If you pass the test."

Billy felt queasy.  Being  locked in a cell with two aggressive Black men was a nightmare.  Still,  if he just let them do what they wanted now, and they saw that he was  straight, the rest of his stay would be less  threatening.  Once the word got out that he wasn't interested in guys,  he would be safe.  So he reluctantly decided to endure the next few  minutes, or slightly longer, and then move on.  Tatianna was probably  already working to get him released.  He felt confident  that her attitude during that visit had just been from temporary  upset.  

"All right," Billy said quietly.  "If you have to."

Kendrick sat on the lower  bunk and patted a spot next to his hip.  The jockey unhappily sat  alongside him.  The Black man set his hand on Billy's thigh, which was  left bare because he'd been given that abbreviated  uniform.  

"Damn," Kendrick marveled.  "It's just like touching a girl.  Yo, Turk.  Check this out."

The other man sat on Billy's  opposite side and began rubbing his other thigh.  Kendrick's fingers  slid up under the barely-there leg of the shorts and brushed Billy's  penis.  Turk gave the warm flesh under his  hand a few squeezes.

"So soft," Turk observed.  

"Right," Kendrick  confirmed.  "And check what's between his legs.  Or maybe what's NOT  there.  See if you can find anything, man."

Billy squirmed as Turk  wriggled his fingers around under the shorts, feeling the jockey's  crotch.  This was beyond humiliating but he felt utterly trapped.

Turk said, "There's hardly nothing in there."

"We got to do a visual inspection," Kendrick decided, breaking that last word into three distinct syllables.  

The two Black men pushed  Billy back and moved him around without much effort, so that he was  lying stretched out on the bunk, on his back.  Kendrick told him to  lower his pants.  Turk leaned in with a hard look  on his face to back up the order.  The smaller man sniffled as he  elevated his hips and got his fingers under the waistband of the  modified garment.  He eased it down, hoping one of the others would tell  him to stop.  But they let him bare his pale body below  the waist.  Turk gave the shorts an extra tug to drag them past Billy's  knees, beyond the helpless con's reach.  

Kendrick swore colorfully.   "This is bad.  Real bad.  A small dick is a sign of being a pansy.  And  one this tiny, it's like nothing I ever seen.  I mean, I've had some  small-dick white boys when I was on the  outside.  They get a look at the bulge in my jeans and follow me around  with they tongue hanging out, they so hungry for Black beef.  So right  now it's looking like our Billy belong on the pink side of things."

"That be tough for him.  But let's be sure, man.  How about we check his prison pussy?"

"Good idea, my brother."   Kendrick put his forefinger in front of Billy's mouth and ordered him  to, "Open up and suck this.  Get it good and wet."

More afraid than ever, Billy  nevertheless parted his lips.  Kendrick didn't insert the finger, so  the jockey had to prop himself up on his elbows to get it into his  mouth.  He rubbed it with his tongue, gathered  saliva, and gave a few sucks, as he had been instructed.

"Holy crap," Kendrick  remarked.  "This one's got a natural born talent.  Trying to get my  finger in deeper.  It's like a reflex with some white boys.  Stick  something stiff between they lips and -- whoop! -- they  be getting greedy with it."

"Thinking about how they wish it was your cock," Turk suggested.  "And dreaming like your balls are on their chin."

"Truth.  So now we got the baby dick and the suck action.  That's two strikes.  This boy's ready to go for three."

He popped his thick finger  out of Billy's mouth and got his hand under the jockey's bottom, feeling  between his buttocks.  The tip of the finger found Billy's rosebud and  began to press against it.  With a sob,  the victim reflexively clenched his sphincter.  

"Now he's showing me how he  wants something inside him, so he can give it a rump hug.  Wants to milk  a Black tool with his back door muscles.  Weak everywhere else, but  strong right there."

Turk offered, "Probably got regular exercise back there.  Work them muscles of love so they'll fit like a glove."

Both men laughed.  While  Billy's attention was on their words and their amusement, he relaxed  just enough for Kendrick to detect it.  That was when the big man drove  his finger in up to the first joint.  Billy  wailed and writhed.  Before he could recover, another third of the  digit entered him.  And while he was trying to catch his breath from  that shock, it was plunged the rest of the way in.  He was impaled on  Kendrick's finger, which was moving in an exploratory  way.  The man who was jabbing Billy nodded to his Black cellmate and  Turk grabbed Billy under the knees to raise his hips.  He held him  securely while Kendrick began working a second finger into that tight  entrance.  Billy cried out.  In the adjoining cells,  other inmates smiled at what they knew was happening.  

"Please," Billy blubbered.  "No more.  It hurts too much.  I'm not gay.  I have a sexy wife.  You can stop now."

"Can't stop in the middle of  the test, Billy boy.  You nothing but a creampuff.  White and soft."   He got the number two finger all the way in, sending Billy into a fit of  trying to squirm free.  Turk held him  firmly in place white Kendrick added the end of a third finger.  Before  he went any further he cautioned the jockey, "You got to calm down or I  might do some damage.  I don't want to hurt you, little creampuff.  I'm  trying to help you out.  Let you find out  who you for real are."

"Aw, come on, dog," Turk said to his buddy.  "You like it when they be thrashing around."

"How you can say that, my  man?  I got the boy's best interests in mind.  Now let me get one more  finger in his butt hole and we can get the test done."

He jammed the last digit in  brutally, hurting Billy on purpose.  The helpless jockey began crying  uncontrollably.  Kendrick kept his fingers moving around slowly inside  him.  When Billy had recovered enough to  understand what was being said to him, Kendrick spoke again.

"I can tell that you  enjoying this, Billy.  Maybe not all the way, cause you fighting it, but  I know a sissy ass when I feel one."

Turk wanted to know, "So he score three-for-three on the test?"

"Exactly.  We got us a cock sucking boy right here.  Real handy to have around when you want a blowjob."

Billy was still in constant  movement, but now it was in slow motion.  And despite trying to keep  silent, he was mewling.  He even began to push his bottom back against  Kendrick's busy fingers.  Worst of all, when  Turk lowered Billy's legs, everyone saw that he had a hard-on.  It  might just have been from having his prostate stimulated, but neither of  the Black cons was going to allow that excuse to be mentioned.  They  kept reinforcing the idea that Billy had been a  sissy all along, and their efforts had brought it out into the open.   Kendrick finally withdrew his three fingers and wiped them on the front  of Billy's humiliating version of prison wear.  He snarled at the newly  arrived inmate to get on his knees.  When  Billy tried to at least pull his shorts back up, Turk barked at him to  leave them where they were.  So the jockey found himself kneeling in  front of Kendrick with his bare ass exposed.

"Now," the leering man said, "get my pants down, creampuff.  Do it."

Billy numbly obeyed.  His  bottom hurt and he was whimpering.  He tried to think clearly but the  pace at which everything was happening, along with the thought that he  might actually be gay, reduced his mind to  a mass of swirling confusion.  Kendrick raised his hips just enough for  Billy to tug down the seated man's loose trousers.  What Billy saw when  he did that made him freeze.  Confronting him was an enormous cock.   Dark, with a bell head.  Thick-veined.  Heavy  balls partly visible under its wide root.  He was so close that he  couldn't help breathing in the masculine musk from the exposed crotch.   That tube steak was at least a foot long and it was still flaccid.  

"Well?" Kendrick asked.   "Are you just going to make love to my Jones with just your pretty blue  eyes?  Or are you going to get them dainty white hands on it?"

"I... can't."

Turk interjected, "That's  okay, Pinky.  We just turn you around and use the other end.  You  probably like it better that way anyhow."

"What?"  Billy's nose was running.  "That would be rape."

"Yeah," Turk agreed.  "But don't say it like that's a bad thing.  I know you want it up the poop chute."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do.  So unless you  want to fight about it, you better agree.  I'm saying you like to suck  cock.  And you want your ass raped.  Ain't that so?"

Billy was caught in a cruel  trap.  If he stood by his assertion, Turk would punish him physically.   But if he reversed his position and said he wanted that terrible act  performed on him, they might do it.

"I..."  The little man had  to hope for the best.  "I was wrong.  I misspoke.  What I meant to say  is that I like..."  He gagged.  "... using my mouth on men.  Like you.   But I also enjoy it when they..."  He started  blubberingly wordlessly, then got it under control.  "... when big men  get behind me and... use me... sexually."

"You got to be clear, boy,"  Turk urged.  "Got to say it so poor stupid folks like me, who ain't rich  and smart like you, can understand.  You got to talk like you on the  street, Pinky."

"Yeah, creampuff," Kendrick said in support of his cellmate.  "Say it plain.  Let's hear it without the polite shit."

Billy understood what they  wanted.  He choked back more tears and managed to struggle through, "I  love to suck cocks.  Big Black cocks.  But I also love to have them...  shoved up my ass... and to be thoroughly...  reamed by them."

"I don't know about that  ream thing, but if you mean fucked, then okay."  Kendrick nodded.  "Glad  you being honest with us.  Now we can make your wishes come true.  Get  busy with my meat.  Hands and mouth.  Otherwise,  it go in the out door."

His whole body trembling,  lips quivering, Billy got his unsteady hands on Kendrick's enviably  large cock.  It took almost no encouragement to make it rise.  Very  soon, with Billy massaging it with both palms,  it had gained several inches.  The kneeling man goggled at the 14 inch  monster he was expected to use his mouth on.  He extended his tongue  tentatively and touched the underside of the shaft, tasting the  saltiness of perspiration.  Then he kissed it, his heart  racing.  Licked it from base to corona.

Turk helpfully said, "You got to swirl around the head, punk.  Round and round.  Pretend like it's candy."

"Right," Kendrick agreed.  "A all-day sucker."

The Black guys chortled at  that term.  They each held up a hand and slapped their palms together.   Billy tried to do the tongue rotation, but found that the knob of that  weapon was so big he could only do it by  getting his lips around the bulb.  He did that and found his mouth  stretched wide to accommodate such a massive member.  His tongue circled  the widest portion of the business end, making the recipient moan with  pleasure.  Billy closed his lips and sucked,  eliciting another approving sound.  He couldn't force any more into his  mouth, so he slurped up and down the length, got it wet, and then  pumped it unhurriedly with his hand, the knob stretching his jaws  again.  He couldn't believe how it filled his gob, pressing  his tongue down under its bulk.  

Sitting next to Kendrick,  Turk lowered his own pants.  He snapped his fingers in front of Billy's  eyes and pointed to his waiting Black cock.  The jockey turned his eyes  up questioningly to the man he was fellating.   Kendrick gave him a lopsided smile and told him to go back and forth  between them.

"It'll last longer that way, sissy."

So Billy began on Turk, who  immediately wanted his balls licked.  His cock rose to nearly the  dimensions of Kendrick's.  Billy mouthed it and lavished attention on it  for about five minutes, until Kendrick flicked  the small man's ear and signaled for him to shift back to his previous  object of affection.  The jockey edged to the side on his knees and  resumed pleasuring the first cock, kissing it all over, slobbering on  it, fondling it, and then kissing his balls too,  without being told to.  For a very long hour the hapless cock slave  worshipped both dark rods.  He would massage one while gobbling the  other, taking as much into his mouth as he could before it made him  gag.   

Kendrick told him, "Don't  worry, creampuff.  We'll get you past that choking thing.  Ain't got  nothing but time in here.  And the both of us going to want it from you  every day."

Near the end, Kendrick  instructed Billy to keep the head of his cock engulfed while pumping the  shaft with both hands.  He complimented Billy again on how soft his  palms and fingers were.  It made the jockey think  of all the skin products he had used.  That made him wonder if maybe he  honestly was gay, just a little bit.  The seed they had planted in his  mind was growing already.  Billy sensed that Kendrick was getting close  to ejaculating.  He dreaded having the man's  sperm in his mouth.  Kendrick growled deep in his throat and his hips  jerked.  Suddenly Billy's mouth was flooded by thick salty spunk.  He  fought to swallow it all, though the act was repellant to him.  Some  oozed out of the corners of his mouth but he gulped  down the majority of it.  Kendrick made him milk the last of it  manually and not swallow it.  Billy had to open his mouth wide and  display what lay in it and coated his tongue.  Not until both men had  taken a good look was he permitted to ingest it.

Then he had to get back to  Turk's rigid tool.  This time he was able to get an added inch into his  gullet, hardly gagging at all.  Turk made a joke about him being a fast  learner.  Kendrick said it was the short  man's gay instincts taking over.  Every time Turk was close to  spurting, he made Billy change over to lapping his heavy balls.  At the  same time, he had the diminutive jockey professing how much he adored  eating cock.  He told Billy to address him as 'Sir'  and to sound more girly whenever he spoke.  So Billy would bring Turk  to the edge and then have to tongue his scrotum while telling him in a  lisping whisper what a good time he was having.  At last, with Billy's  hands vigorously working up and down, his mouth  wide, the head of Turk's cock resting on his lower lip, the second man  blasted out his load.  It hit the roof of the jockey's mouth, puddled  under his tongue, overflowed down the back of his throat, and made him  feel like he would drown in it.  Billy eventually  gulped it all down and then spontaneously used the end of his tongue to  retrieve the clear fluid that followed that orgasm, gathering it as  each drop appeared from the pee slit.  

With Billy's oral virginity  taken, his cellmates moved on to the next phase of their plan for him.   It took place three times a day, when they went to the cavernous dining  hall.  After Billy sat down with his  tray in front of him, he had to turn to whoever Kendrick had arranged  to have sitting on his left.  The convict there was always Black and  from the loosely structured gang to which many belonged.  

Billy was expected to act  effeminate and use his overly swishy voice to whisper something to his  neighbor like, "Hello.  My name is Pinky.  May I please suck your cock?"

It was all prearranged.   None of the sex starved men said no.  Billy had to slide down under the  table, lower their pants, and give them a long, sloppy BJ.  It had to be  drawn out for most of the lunch hour.   At the end, after he'd gotten a mouthful of thick slimy spunk, he was  permitted to get back on his chair and have his meal.  It made him  nauseated to eat with the strong taste of male cream on his tongue.  And  because he didn't start his food until the period  was almost over, he had to wolf it down.  Someone else always got his  dessert.

Kendrick and Turk made sure  they always let Billy know how much his effort had earned them.  It  might be a candy bar or four cigarettes.  That made him feel worthless,  as well as further breaking down his male  ego.  He had to walk with a wiggle and use overdone gestures, always  with limp wrists.  Everyone who saw him assumed he was gay and he was  beginning to imagine it was true himself.

They had other ways of  demeaning him.  He was too short to use the stainless steel urinal  mounted to the wall of their cell.   So they would make him drop his  pants and one of them would pick him up and sit him  on the cold metal.  He had to hold his little prick down and pee into  the bowl while they stood there mocking him.  

"Bet you have to be careful on regular toilets, so you don't fall in."

"You look real cool there, boy, with your junior size feet dangling down."  

At last it was time for his  first visit from Tatianna.  What Billy wanted to hear was some good  news.  She hadn't seemed eager to help him earlier.  He credited that to  the shock of what was essentially her plan,  necessitated by her financial irresponsibility, going awry.  In the  time since then, he told himself over and over, she must have come to a  more realistic view of the situation and made moves to help him.  

When he got to the visiting  room he was nervous.  Happily, it wasn't one of those with a wall down  the center, plexiglass windows, and communication only by phones.  It  had been painful during the previous shared  time, when he had to speak with her under those circumstances.  Now he  was seated at a plain table, in a chair that was bolted to the floor,  and there would be guards watching them the entire time, if not in  person, then remotely.  He wished he had something  different to wear.  Someone had ordered several more outfits just like  the first one.  And his hair still had that unwanted look.  

He was thrilled when the  door opened and in walked Tatianna, as beautiful as ever in a slinky  black dress and some flashy new jewelry, her hair in a new style.  But  then she was followed by Marquis.  The two of  them sat down across from him.  

His wife opened right up  with, "You really screwed yourself, Billy baby.  And it's been awfully  inconvenient for me.  I mean, I had to wait days before some of your  accounts were unfrozen.  But once they realized  that all the money was in my name alone, everything was fine."

"But what about getting me out of here?"

"Why?  Haven't you been eating well?"

He didn't even want to touch  on that subject.  And he would have preferred to avoid what his  cellmates had been doing to him, and making him do with other convicts.   But she seemed oblivious to his plight, so  he had to say something.  He would just be discrete.

Billy told her, "I'm being  mistreated.  By the men sharing my cell."  When she just looked at him  blankly, he went on, "They've been touching me.  In inappropriate ways.   And making me... do things for them."

"Oh," she said with a smile  of understanding.  "Those two big Black studs you're locked up with have  been making you suck them off.  And having you go down on their pals in  the dining room at mealtimes.  So that  answers my question."

It was his turn to wear an uncomprehending expression.  He said, "I don't understand."

Tatianna clarified, "I asked  if you were eating okay.  But that sounds like you're doing fine.   Getting plenty of protein."  She gave him a broad wink.  "Fresh from the  source."

"You don't understand," he said desperately.

"Of course I do, you loser  faggot.  You got yourself put in here.  I'm on the outside with the  money and house and cars that used to be yours."  She shrugged.  "What's  so hard to understand?"

"I... I..."  He implored her, "You have to get me out of here.  I want to come home.   And be with you."

She made a face and said,  "Ugh.  Why would I want you back?  You were never a good lay, with your  miniature puppy dick and under-two-minutes performances.  Besides, now  it turns out that you're a flamer.  I'm  infuriated with you for lying to me about your sexuality all that  time."

"I'm not gay," he protested for the umpteenth time.

"No, you're just sucking every cock you can find because it's your hobby.  Oh, please, Mary.  Your Man Card has been revoked."

"You can't leave me here."

Marquis broke in with, "She  can and she will.  But don't worry.  I'm there for her.  Spending lots  of time together.  Making sure she gets all the attention she needs."

"I don't want my wife with another man.  Especially a crook like you."

"Who's the crook, creampuff?  You're locked up and I'm running free."

"Bu... but, she's my wife," he spluttered.

"I know, man.  The  separation and divorce can't be until later, after she makes sure she  has every last penny of your money.  But hey, we've got three years."

Tatianna added, "That's  plenty of time to make sure everything is legal, Pinky.  Speaking of  which, I gave my consent for you to go completely into that program  where you're allowed to dress girly all the time.   They needed me to tell them that you really are a freak and love to be  in panties and stockings and whatever."

"But I've never been like that."

"Sure you have.  Maybe what you've been eating has messed with your  memory.  Of course, I've been getting a lot of that, too, and it hasn't  bothered me."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, not sounding as forceful as he meant to.

"She means," Marquis said, putting his hand on Tatianna's, "that I have my big Black cock in her mouth all the time."

Tatianna expanded on that with, "When it's not in my pussy, which is a lot."

Billy though he was going to  swoon.  He brought his hands up and fluttered them under his chin, his  mouth opening and closing soundlessly.  The body language Kendrick and  Turk had insisted on was taking over.   Even Billy's voice reverted to its higher feminine register and softer  girly speech.

"I can't go on like this.  Those big men are being brutal to me.  They do such terrible things.  Can't you talk to them?"

He was addressing his wife  but it was Marquis who answered.  "I have been talking to them, along  with a bunch of the officials here, creampuff.  Are you so stupid you  can't figure anything out?  Your hot wife  and me made sure you got fucked over, and that I ended up making a  killing on that race you threw, and you signed everything over to her  before you did it.  Now my contacts in this place are making sure you  don't give us any trouble -- ever."

The jockey was stunned.  He  stood up and began swaying.  His small hands gripped the edge of the  table.  Tatianna left a business envelope in front of him.  She turned  to Marquis, who took her in his arms and  kissed her passionately.  The big man's dark hands roamed freely over  her body and she ground herself against him.  Plainly, she wanted all  she could get of his sexual prowess.  She even grabbed the considerable  bulge in his pants.  Billy's knees gave out  and he collapsed back into his seat.

His wife stepped away from Marquis and said, "Have a nice night, Billy.  I know I will."

Marquis grinned wolfishly  and told their victim, "I'll pass the word along that you're real in  touch with your gay side.  And that you're ready for a complete prison  honeymoon."

The two of them linked arms  and strolled out of the room.  The Black guard came in.  He must have  heard and seen everything.  He also must have been part of the effort to  ruin Billy.  

There was a grin on his dark face as he said, "Damn, boy.  You really threw it all away."

He grabbed Billy's bicep  with a vicelike grip, snatched up the envelope, and marched him out of  the room.  A second guard took over at the entrance to the cellblock,  accepting envelope, and returned him to Kendrick  and Turk.  They were waiting with sadistic anticipation.  As soon as he  entered the cell, Billy saw why.  Lying on the lower bunk were new  items for him to wear.  Obviously they were from that program he had  been unwillingly put into.  There were pink panties  and fishnet stockings, along with a pair of glossy red heels.  There  was even a belly shirt, bright scarlet, with the word SLUT across the  front in swirling letters of garish yellow.  

"Let's go," Kendrick said.  "We can't wait to see you in your new look, creampuff."

"Do it, Pinky," seconded Turk.

Marquis and Tatianna had  used those same names for him.  The two of them must know every detail  about his plight.  Billy blushed bright pink as he got out of one  shameful outfit, preparing to don something even  worse.  He pulled the panties up his slender legs, feeling their  silkiness against his hairless skin.  Then he rolled the stockings, the  way he had seen his wife do, and sat to unroll them back up.  Finally he  got into the clinging top and slipped his feet  into the heels.  Turk made him strut around, wag his bottom, and assume  a series of erotic poses.  

He swore volubly.  "You looking better than before, Pinky.  Kind of like a walking invitation to get busy.  Know what I mean?"

"And," Kendrick added  gleefully, "we got the word that, now that your wife has the money deal  worked out for certain, we can go ahead and make sure you never think  you're a man no more."

Billy crossed his arms over his smooth chest, looking quite girly.  He squealed, "No more.  I'll call the guard."

"Thanks for the reminder,"  Kendrick told him.  "You owe that dude a BJ.  But later for that.  Right  now we got to pop your cherry.  How about you get my cock all ready for  the big event?"

"Yeah," said Turk.  "And  after he's done with you, that pretty mouth will be on my Johnson.  I  get sloppy seconds on your cute ass."

"But before you wrap them lips around my love muscle, use some of this."

Kendrick tossed him a tube  of lipstick.  It was magenta.  Barely able to keep his hand steady,  Billy applied it to his mouth.  Kendrick said the clumsy way he did it  made him look like a cheap whore at the end  of a long night.  

"But that's okay, girl.  I  like that look.  And it helps that we can see your itty bitty dick  through them panties.  Really makes it dirty to know we're going to be  slamming a sissy."

Turk said, "One who still don't admit he's a pansy, and that he secretly want to get drilled.  Even that it will turn him on."

The two men converged on  their vulnerable prey.  They roughly got him on his knees.  Kendrick  slapped his face a few times.  Then Billy had to describe one of his  spit-heavy blowjobs, along with plenty of dirty  talk about how he loved doing it and how, for the first time, he was  ready to go all the way.

"Use me now," the kneeling  man said, making it sound sincere.  "My ass needs your big Black cock in  it, Sir.  Please don't finish in my mouth.  You have to deflower me."

"Have to what?"

"Bust my cherry, Sir."

"I'll bust your damn  cherry.  Then I'll bust my nut.  Leave a big mess of scum all up inside  your tail.  That'll make you a full time, no-turning-back, fag sissy.   Right, creampuff?"

"Yes, Sir.  Thank you, Sir.  That's what I want."

"Pretty freaking funny, too.  You being married to this super babe."  

He held out a picture.  The  second guard must have slipped him that envelope.  Billy saw an image of  his wife and Marquis, side by side, in front of the bed at home.  Both  of them were naked.  The Black man's  cock hung down an impressive length.  The jockey tried not to compare  it to his limited endowment but couldn't control what he was thinking.   The next shot Kendrick showed him was of Marquis with an incredible  erection, at least as big as Kendrick's, if not  larger.  Tatianna was on her knees, caressing it, white hands standing  out against rich brown skin.  Then he was shown another, of the two of  them in bed, Marquis happily thumping her pussy, she with her head  turned so her face was toward the camera, wearing  a blissful look.  She was giving Billy the finger.  

As if under a spell, Billy  took Kendrick's cock and tenderly coaxed it to full size.  It didn't  require much coaxing.  He gave it some extra personal treatment with his  mouth, adding plenty of the lewd talk the  man liked to hear.  It was almost as if Billy were seeking revenge on  his wife by pleasuring the man standing in front of him.  He brought  Kendrick to a peak of excitement.  The powerful man hoisted him to his  feet, spun him around, bent him forward, and ordered  him to keep his hands on the edge of the bunk.  He was too low down so  they put all their pillows under his feet to raise him enough for easy  access.  

"Spread them feet!  I like  how those heels make your legs look.  Now get them panties out of the  way.  And that ass is just begging for my cock.  Isn't it?"

Sounding more girly than ever, Billy assured him, "I can't wait.  Please fill me up, Sir.  I want you in me."

Inside he was scared half to  death.  And afraid of being damaged back there.  Plus, he didn't want  further confirmation that he might be gay.  But his cellmates had him so  well conditioned by then, and what his  wife and her lover had said was so unnerving, plus those pictures had  so rattled him, that Billy didn't fully understand how he felt.  When  the end of Kendrick's cock made contact with his pucker, even though  that was all that had happened so far, Billy began  to weep.  The Black man spit into his hand and rubbed saliva on Billy's  tightness, even poking a slippery finger inside him.  Then he held the  jockey's hips and pressed himself against him so that the head of his  cock stretched Billy's hole and slid past the  ring.  It hurt Billy but also stimulated him.

Kendrick said, "The race is  on, girl.  Number One is Big Kendrick, riding Creampuff.  He's driving  through the pack."  He jammed several more inches inside.  "Running  hard."  Sank himself almost all the way in,  making Billy wail and shed hot tears.  "And taking the lead."  He  plunged in up to his root.  

Turk called out, "Ride him, brother."

The Black man behind Billy  pulled partway out and slammed all the way back in.  He did it over and  over, his lust mounting.  Billy blubbered and cried.  Kendrick dug his  fingers into Billy's soft hips.  The penetrated  little man grew less vocal.  Kendrick moaned.  Billy sighed and  gasped.  The two of them fell into a rhythm as Billy shoved back to meet  each thrust.  Kendrick's long strokes had his partner squealing.  The  sounds Billy made turned into words.

"Don't stop," Billy shouted.  "Please.  Sir.  I don't know what's happening to me.  Just ride me.  Ride me hard."

Turk ducked down to check  between Billy's legs and, sure enough, his laughably small pecker was  hard.  Whether he wanted it or not, he was responding fully to having  his ass ravaged.  When Kendrick heard that,  he varied his pace to keep the jockey stimulated without making him  finish.  Billy got frustratingly aroused.  His balls hadn't been emptied  for so long.  He was frantic to find release.  But with expert control,  Kendrick denied him that necessity.  The Black  man, however, after nearly 60 minutes, staged a final ferocious attack  on the defenseless rump and blasted his load deep inside.  He didn't  pull out for long minutes, while Billy stood there, with his  excitement momentarily subsided, wracked with shame.  

Then it was Turk's turn.  He  had Billy pull up his panties.  Cum leaked from his bung and made an  embarrassing wet spot.  He had to lie on the lower bunk on his  back, legs bent up and feet against the wall.  The  bare edge of the frame dug into his neck as he hung over it, holding  on to the thin mattress with both hands.  Turk knelt.  Billy's head hung  level with Turk's crotch, upside down.  

"Look at that mouth," Turk  said with a devilish glint in his dark eyes.  "A perfect cock socket.   Just right for some face fucking.  And Pinky's lipstick got messed up,  so she looks extra trampy.  Heh."

He took Billy's head between  his broad hands and held it there while he rubbed his cock on the  jockey's face.  As he started to get hard, Billy caught the bobbing end  between his lips and sucked on it with his  eyes half closed, like it was a hot afternoon and he had a popsicle.   Turk began to slide it in and out, setting off the gag reflex but not  choking him.  On the second and third tries, the jockey was able to take  it in the throat with increasing ease.  Billy  hung in that uncomfortable position while Turk had fun with him,  twisting his ears and adjusting his head to different angles.  At last  he was ready for the main act and pulled the small man down, got him  onto the floor on his hands and knees, and put himself  behind him.  Kneeling there, Turk lowered Billy's panties and took a  minute to enjoy the feel of that hairless body under his hands.  

He got ready for deep  penetration.  Billy didn't act as reluctant this time.  Turk put the  mushroom head of his tool in position.  Kendrick had provided plenty of  natural lubrication.  Turk grinned to himself  and then shoved in hard, burying his monster organ in one savage  thrust.  Billy screamed but the sound was choked off as his assailant  set a furious pace, humping him like some rutting animal.  He kept it up  for a solid ten minutes.  Turk wasn't in the mood  for long-and-slow.  He wanted his payoff right away.  He  took ramrod, punishing strokes, really working that tight passage.   Billy was crying but everyone could hear the whimpers of satisfaction  that were mixed in with his wails.  The Black man grunted, paused,  and then finished with a flurry of action that triggered his reward.   He hosed Billy's innards with his semen.  At the same moment, the jockey  was pushed past his limit and fired a full helping into his panties.   Now they were soaked front and back, from both  Kendrick's leakage and Billy's own discharge.  

After gaining a rush  of relief, and while Turk was still inside him enjoying his afterglow,  Billy was again overwhelmed by shame.  They had made him enjoy it.  He  was being turned into a cock addict.  He hung  his head and sobbed loudly.  Even so, he was still tingling from what  he had undergone.  He didn't know how much more they might be able to  change him.  Turk finally withdrew.  Billy was permitted to raise  his wet sticky panties.  The jockey clenched to try  to prevent more dribbling.  

"Damn, girl," Kendrick  said.  "Your puny dick sure creamed that girly underwear.  And I know  your ass is ready to drop more mess from what we put in here.  So let me  help you."

He picked up Billy and set  him ignominiously on the urinal.  The jockey shook his head, not wanting  to be made a spectacle like that.  Anyone walking by could witness his  disgrace.  

Turk said, "Just like a king on his throne.  Or maybe a queen."

"More like a princess,"  suggested Kendrick.  "Princess Panty Messer.  She can just stay there  all night, so she don't get no spunk nowhere."

"But I got to take a piss."

"No problem.  Just aim between them pretty legs.  Try not to hit her smooth bald dick area."

Turk chortled as he stepped  up and pointed his tool.  He let loose a thick, strong smelling, stream  of urine that hit the bowl and splashed up against the seat of Billy's  panties.  Then he wiped his cock clean  on the insides of the jockey's thighs, above the stocking tops.  

"I got to drain the dragon, too," Kendrick announced.  

He replaced Turk in front of  Billy.  Got his cock in his hand.  Started to piss and intentionally  hit the front of Billy's already unclean panties.  He drenched the small  man's genitals through the thin material  and left them dripping.  The acrid smell of urine assailed Billy's  nostrils.  He sat there feeling miserable. 

"Aw," said Kendrick.   "You all sad, creampuff?  Wait until you been up there a few hours.   That'll give you something to feel bad about."  He chuckled.  "But at  least now that we visited your back door, it ain't  like there's anything worse we can do.  Right?"

Billy brightened.  "That's true.  I mean, what could be worse than what you already did?"

"Truth.  It's not like we'd make you hold our balls in your mouth."

Turk added, "Or have you use that talented tongue between our butt cheeks."

"And even up in our asses."  

"Especially when we're all sweaty and got the stank back there."

Kendrick followed that with,  "And I'm sure we wouldn't use your mouth in place of that piss  pot where you're sitting, if we didn't feel like walking all the way  across this cell."

"Wouldn't never," agreed Turk.

"Unless we felt like it," Kendrick pointed out.

"Which we probably would."

"Definitely would, cause that's just what you do when you got a sissy."

Billy shuddered.  He knew it  was all true, and everything they had just said would happen to him.   Besides which, he had a strong premonition that they would think up many  other indignities to inflict on him,  a succession of horrors with no end.  That set off a cascade event in  his mind, of helplessness and the desperate desire to please these men  who absolutely controlled him.  Three years was going to be like a life  sentence for little Billy the jockey.  He had  bet his ass and lost, so now somebody else owned it.