As Joseph counted down his final days in prison, he stayed constantly vigilant, watching for any warning signals from Gus, any last, desperate move by Smitty and his thugs, any interference from the warden. He was so high strung that the least little thing caused him to practically jump out of his skin--a broom falling over in the laundry, someone brushing against him in the halls, a shadow moving on the wall of his cell. But in the end, the time passed uneventfully, as difficult to believe as it was.

Of course, Joseph did his part to make sure everything went smoothly. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. He faithfully performed his duties--in the prison laundry by day and with his husband in their cell at night. Sooner than he would have thought, it was over. The next morning, he would finally be released.

As Joseph went through his last day in the penitentiary, he kept a mental list of things he would happily leave behind: nauseating prison breakfasts, mornings spent up to his elbows in liquid starch, come-ons from the other inmates, the mocking smiles of the prison guards. In the early evening, he went to have his last prison shower. After he finished, he would have his final round of sex as Gus' wife. The knowledge that after tonight he would never again be trapped beneath his husband's sweating, humping bulk made him want to click his heels together in celebration.

The only thing that wasn't perfect was that Carlos couldn't join him. Ray had sent him on some mysterious errand. Carlos said it would be better if Joseph didn't know anything about it. Joseph hoped it wasn't anything too illegal, or at the very least, that Carlos wouldn't get caught. As long as nothing happened, they would still be able to see each other tomorrow before Joseph left.

In the shower room, Joseph undressed, took a place under the showerheads, and closed his eyes while the heat of the water sluiced over him, washing away the prison taint. Soon, there would be no more humiliation, no more debasement, and he would always feel clean.

Sadly, though, the solitude of his shower didn't last long. Smitty, Haynes and the tattooed Nazi came strutting into the room, looking smug and very dangerous. They leaned against the wall directly across from him and stared openly at his body, as if he were a piece of candy and they were in the mood for something sweet.

"You'd better get out of here!" Joseph yelled at them.

He crossed his arms defensively over his chest. Having breasts made him feel more vulnerable--and worse, so much more violable.

Smitty's eyes sparkled in a way that set off all Joseph's internal alarms. "Hey, Haynes, look what we have here. The warden's pussy."

Joseph felt a cold flare of terror, despite the warmth of the room. "What? What did you say?"

Smitty smiled cruelly, relishing Joseph's terror. "Oh, yeah, Princess. It's all over the place. Everybody knows you've been trading your twat for special favors. Everybody, including your husband."

"No, no," Joseph moaned, shaking his head in denial.

"Oh, yes, Cupcake. And guess what? Your old man ain't too happy about you being a slut. He put out the word. You're a single girl again."

"No," Joseph sobbed, pressing his back against the wall, as if that were any kind of defense.

"You know I always figured that if I waited long enough you'd fuck up your marriage one way or another," Smitty taunted. "And then I'd make you my bitch, like you always should have been."

"NO!" Joseph screamed.

He lunged for the door, with the wild courage and strength that came from utter desperation. But as always, Smitty got the better of him. He caught Joseph by the hair, flung him back against the wall, and pinned him there. He shoved his forearm into Joseph's throat, cutting off his air. There was a flash of silver in the fluorescent lights as Smitty brandished a switchblade. He pressed the steely edge of the blade against Joseph's scrotum. He didn't cut him, but he did use enough pressure for Joseph to feel the knife's sharpness.

"I don't want to hear any sniveling or backtalk, bitch. I don't want any fighting or fussing. I've waited a long time, and I'm out of patience. I want you down on your hands and knees with those thighs spread wide, ready for the ride of your life. Or else, I will turn you into a woman. Got it?"

Joseph couldn't keep himself from crying. Smitty's expression twisted into a snarl.

"GOT IT, BITCH?" he yelled, pressing the knife harder into Joseph's scrotum, breaking the skin.

"Yes! Yes! I got it. Please!" Joseph begged.

Smitty grabbed his arm and hurled him down onto the floor. Joseph's back heaved with sobs as he assumed the doggy position, his legs parted, giving his rapist easy access to his pussy. Tears ran down his face and splashed onto his hands as he waited in terror for Smitty to violate him.

The wait wasn't long. The metallic slide of his rapist's zipper echoed off the walls, and then Joseph felt the heat of Smitty's body behind him, the hard slickness of Smitty's erection against his cheeks, then against his hole, then breaching him, forcing entry into his body.

The horror of the situation reduced everything to a blur of sensation--the hot trails of tears on his face, the violent jerking of his breasts and genitals as his body was used, manhandled, owned, the searing pain in his center, the sharp sting of humiliation as more and more men drifted into the shower, filling the room with their cheering and laughing and demands to be next.

Each rapist gave way to the next, indistinguishably. Whenever Joseph made himself open his eyes, the room seemed more and more crowded, men lined up against the walls, streaming in through the door, circled around him chanting while the latest plunderer had his fun, all of them jostling and arguing and bucking for position, impatient to be the next one to have a go at his pussy.

He let his head hang in defeat while some con he didn't even recognize banged away at him. When he lifted his gaze again, he was amazed to find most of the prison administration circled around him as well, mixed among the arsonists and embezzlers and second-degree murderers. There was the doctor and warden and even the woman from the cafeteria who shoveled the slop onto his tray at mealtimes. He also noticed, with a pang, Sergeant Murphy leaning casually against the wall, watching him get fucked with a sardonic smile on his face.

"Give me a go at him." The cafeteria lady pounded the fat handle of an industrial sized ladle into the palm of her hand with a sharp crack. "There's only one thing that pussy's good for."

"But what did I ever do to you?" Joseph begged, desperately.

The woman sneered. "You're a perversion of nature. You like having tits. You like getting fucked like a woman."

"No!"

"Liar!"

"Yes, please, Joanne," the doctor chimed in. "We weren't born yesterday. We've seen the way you carry on."

"I was forced!"

The doctor rolled her eyes. "That's not what you told me. If you're going to go around pretending to be female, Joanne, you're going to have to take the bad with the good. And you're certainly going to need a proper sized pussy." She held up a massive speculum and tested the spring. "I'm next after Helga."

The cafeteria lady examined the instrument with a nod of satisfaction. "That'll open up his twat but good."

"No! Please!" Joseph cried.

The warden knelt down beside him. He smiled as Joseph's body lunged and jerked from the hard fucking it was taking.

"What's wrong, Joanne?" the warden asked, in a mocking voice. "Didn't I tell you this gang rape would go on for days? Aren't you just a little bit glad? Hasn't it always been your secret fantasy to take on hundreds of guys at once? Tell us the truth now. Don't you like getting your pussy turned inside out?"

"No! Please! Let me go. I don't deserve this!"

"Of course, you do," the warden said. "You're a thief. You cheated on your wife. You sold your body and for what? Some skirts and slutty tops to show off your tits. You haven't just been turned into a woman. You've become a totally brazen whore."

"No! It's not true! I never wanted any of this! I'm still a man," Joseph sobbed. "I'm still a man."

The warden snorted loudly. "Like hell you are. Do you think anyone could still be a man after a hundred guys have fucked him?" He laughed. "And you actually thought you were going to go back to your cushy old life and your sexy little wife and pretend like nothing ever happened."

He laughed more wildly, an ugly sound.

"When all these animals get through with you, that pussy of yours is going to be yawning open so wide I'll be able to shove my whole arm up inside you," the warden said. "After today, you're not just going to have a pussy. You're going to be a pussy. And you're going to stay a pussy for the rest of your life.

"No," Joseph cried. "No!"

"Oh, yes, Joanne. And you know what happens to pussies."

Tears flowed down Joseph's cheeks. How could he not know when at that very moment an enormous cock was ravaging him?

The warden snapped his fingers. "Murphy, go round up Cellblock B and march them over here. We wouldn't want them to miss out on the party, would we?"

"No, sir, warden. We sure wouldn't." Murphy laughed.

"Please, God, no," Joseph sobbed, his body sagging with exhaustion.

"And when they're done," the warden said. "There's Cellblock C. And D. And F. And we could probably get on the phone and bus in more cons from some of the other prisons..."

"No, no, no," Joseph kept moaning.

"Sunshine."

"No. Please."

"SUNSHINE!"

Joseph jolted awake with a start. Sweat poured off his face and ran in cold rivulets down his back.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gus demanded. "God. You were carrying on like somebody was trying to kill you."

"Sorry, sir," Joseph mumbled. "Bad dream."

Gus frowned. "Yeah. Well. Now that you're awake, get over here and take care of this." He reached into his boxers and pulled out his erect cock.

"Yes, sir," Joseph murmured.

He kicked back the covers, slid off the bunk, and got down on his knees in front of his husband. He was naked, except for the tuck. His husband liked to watch his titties bob and sway as he gave head. He kissed Gus' cock and tongued the head before taking the organ into his mouth. With the nightmare of gang rape fresh in his mind, he was highly motivated to please his husband. He lavished attention on his cock--sucking and licking and massaging the head with his throat muscles. It wasn't long before Gus was thrusting wildly, fucking his face in a frenzy. Joseph stayed relaxed as he had learned to do and let Gus have his way with him. When Gus erupted in his mouth, he gulped down the semen, gently cleaned his husband's cock with his tongue, and returned it to his boxers.

"That was fantastic, Sunshine," Gus said, breathing heavily.

Joseph kept his eyes lowered, submissively. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, sir."

"Hey, that must have been what your bad dream was about, huh?" He grinned lewdly. "You were thinking about not having your husband's cock to take care of when you get out of here. And that's what had you wailing like somebody took away your favorite toy."

A picture formed in Joseph's head: Smitty pushing him down onto the hard, cold shower room floor, yanking his legs open, pulling his cheeks apart...

"Yes, sir," he said, softly. "That is my worst nightmare."

Gus patted his cheek. "Well, don't you worry none, Sunshine. I'm going to give you plenty to remember me by. Go get on the bunk."

Joseph glanced up at his husband, confused. Hadn't he just taken care of his needs? But astonishingly, the monster in Gus' boxers was already growing hard again.

"Lie down on your back and spread your legs wide, Sunshine," Gus instructed him. "Show me your pussy."

Joseph got up from the floor and obediently did as he was told. It amazed him sometimes that he could still blush after everything he'd been through, but the humiliation of exposing himself so intimately was not something he'd ever get used to.

"Mmm," Gus moaned, stroking himself to full hardness through his underwear. "Tell me what you want, Sunshine."

"I want you, sir," Joseph said, in his best impersonation of lust. "I want you so bad. Please fuck my pussy, sir. Fuck me good and hard. Fuck me 'til I can't walk. Please, sir!"

"Oh, yeah." Gus pushed down his boxers, releasing his monstrous manhood.

It's just one more day. Just one more day, Joseph kept telling himself, as his husband climbed on top of him.

At least it's better than getting raped by every guy in here, he thought, as his husband went to town on his pussy.

After his terrible dream, a lingering sense of menace stayed with Joseph as he drifted through his usual routine, desperately counting down each hour of his last full day of incarceration. He kept looking over his shoulder for any sign of trouble, but strangely, there seemed to be none. Nobody paid him any attention, or at least, nothing beyond the ordinary come-ons and obscenities he had grown used to.

Gus had given him permission to cut his hair, and in the afternoon, he paid a visit to the prison barber. He sat in the chair, fidgeting like a child, twisting his hands in his lap, as he eyed the barber's ominous looking shears. The truth was that he found his long hair beautiful. He liked the way it felt against his cheek, how it moved, how it caught the light. He loved to linger when he brushed it, the bristles gliding through the silky tresses, making his whole head tingle with simple, sensual pleasure.

The barber noticed his unease. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "It is awfully pretty."

Joseph felt his face turn hot at the remark, but there was nothing sarcastic or unkind in the barber's manner. He combed his fingers through the golden curtain of Joseph's hair with an expression of both admiration and regret.

"I have to," Joseph told him. "Please."

There was Madeleine to consider. There was his future. He could not take the trappings of prison life with him back out into the world. He could not afford any more reminders of who he had become behind bars. The torment of his memories would be enough.

The barber nodded. "Okay," he said. "I understand."

The simple response reverberated with an unspoken sympathy that made Joseph squirm. He had grown unused to these moments of shared humanity.

The barber took up his comb and scissors, but hesitated. "You don't have to look if you don't want to."

Somehow, this had not occurred to Joseph. In prison, you had to face every ordeal, large or small, with your eyes wide open. That he might not have to watch as he was shorn of his crowning glory came as both a surprise and a relief.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and the barber started to work. Joseph listened to the rhythmical progress of the scissors. He felt the heavy weight of his hair growing lighter by degrees. But somehow it was not the lightness of freedom. With every snip, an iron band of grief seemed to tighten around Joseph's heart.

Eventually, the scissoring stopped. The barber stepped away. A cool draft blew across the back of Joseph's neck, and he touched the newly exposed skin, lightly, nervously, unsettled by the odd sense of vulnerability it gave him.

"All done now," the barber said.

Joseph took a deep breath and opened his eyes. And stared. In the mirror, glaring in the hard fluorescent lights, was a human contradiction. Not man. Not woman. Not anything Joseph knew how to explain.

"Is it okay?" the barber asked.

Joseph wasn't sure how to answer this question. Certainly, the man had done a fine job, better than anything Joseph would have expected from a prison barber. The cut was sleek and tidy, not terribly different from how Joseph had looked back in his old life. But at the same time, its practical masculinity belied the softness of his delicately made-up face, the roundness of his body. He had no idea who he was.

Joseph finally managed to nod. "Yeah. It's good."

"Good," the barber said.

He busied himself tidying up the workspace, making ready for the next patron. Joseph got up to leave.

"Good luck to you," the barber said, without turning around.

Joseph stopped. "Thank you," he said, hoarsely.

His throat constricted with an emotion he couldn't name. He knew he would never again take for granted the simple decency of strangers.

After that, the rest of the day just seemed to slide by. Joseph purposefully refused to think about the jarring, unreal reflection in the barber's mirror, that blurred, indeterminate man-woman that was him. He blocked out, too, all speculation about how his reunion with Madeleine might go. There seemed no reason to rush into the awkward tangle of guilt and blame and resentment when it would come soon enough. Instead, he whiled away his time turning over the one thing he still looked forward to in this place, his last shower with Carlos.

The question was the same one romantic sitcoms were made of: Would they or wouldn't they?

But was it really a question? Did Joseph actually have doubt? Soon, he would be separated from Carlos forever. Was he really going to let this precious opportunity get away from him? Because he feared Gus? Because he was afraid to admit his own desires?

These were the thoughts that preoccupied him all day, until finally it was time to meet Carlos. His heart skittered in his chest as he made his way to the shower room. His nerve endings seemed to be on high alert, his senses sharpened. Colors looked richer. Noises sounded brighter. His whole body jumped and thrummed with electric sensation. He'd never felt more alive.

When he got to the shower, though, Carlos had not yet arrived. For a moment, the dream from the night before splashed back at him, and he went cold with fear. Maybe Carlos wasn't coming. Maybe someone else would take the opportunity to--

He stood there, paralyzed with fear.

Fortunately, at that exact moment, Carlos came striding into the room, whistling cheerfully. He smiled when he saw Joseph.

"Hey, querido," Carlos said. "Sorry I'm late. Ray wanted-- Well, anyway, I'm glad to see you."

"Me too, Carlos. Me too."

God, it was so silly. He was shaking. It was just a dream. Just a goddamned dream.

Carlos watched him with concern. "Is everything okay, baby?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He shook his head. "Sorry. I just-- I didn't know if you were coming."

"Hey. Come here."

Carlos opened his arms, and Joseph stepped into the embrace, grateful for it.

"Nothing could have kept me from being here," Carlos whispered against his ear.

Joseph clung to him. He didn't know how he was supposed to say goodbye to Carlos. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

Carlos finally pulled back, rubbing Joseph's arms soothingly. "Come on, baby. Let's hit the shower. We don't have much time."

Joseph nodded. Carlos was right. So little time, and this wasn't something that should be rushed. They both undressed and found a spot underneath the showerheads.

It was funny. Joseph had been naked with Carlos so many times, but now, whenever he met Carlos' gaze, he blushed, strangely shy. Carlos' eyes lingered on him, as they always did, paying homage to his body. But Carlos kept his hands at his sides. The message was clear. This was Joseph's call, and Carlos would follow his lead.

But had there ever really been a decision to make?

Joseph cupped Carlos' face in his hands and kissed him. Carlos went still for a moment, as if surprised. But then the matching spark of his own desire sprang to life, and he pulled Joseph into his arms and deepened the kiss.

In the nine-month course of their friendship, Joseph and Carlos had shared many intimacies. But even in their closest moments, there had always been things standing between them--terror of reprisal from Gus and Ray, the sad knowledge that to care about someone in prison was to make yourself dangerously vulnerable, and of course, the looming separation, when Joseph would go home and Carlos would have to stay behind. But now, none of that seemed to matter. All the old barriers, the longstanding fears were burned away in the crucible of their passion.

Carlos clutched Joseph to him, hot skin against hotter, and kissed him wildly. Joseph bucked and rubbed and shimmied, as if trying to crawl inside Carlos' flesh. No matter how tightly Carlos held him, Joseph just couldn't get close enough. He desperately wished the solitary outlines of their bodies could blur together, their bones mingle. He had never craved anyone like this, never felt so pained by human separateness.

The few other embraces he and Carlos had shared paled in comparison to this sweet delirium of frantic, naked limbs. The sensation of Joseph's bared breasts pressed against Carlos' muscular chest made his head reel. The crisp hairs tickled them, made them tingle, made his nipples pebble with desire. Their cocks rubbed together erotically, Carlos already hard, Joseph still soft, but eager.

"I'm sorry, Carlos," he whispered. "I don't know if I can--"

"Ssssh, querido. Ssssh." Carlos kissed his neck. "Leave that to me."

Carlos snaked his hand between their bodies, wrapped it around Joseph's cock and started to stroke him.

Joseph's head fell back, and he gasped with pleasure. It had been such a very, very long since anyone had touched his cock. It brought the unexpected sting of tears to his eyes.

Carlos kissed his neck and whispered in his ear, "God, querido. You feel so good. I've wanted to touch you for so long."

His hand moved down to Joseph's balls and rolled them in their sack. Joseph whimpered, his desire mixed with such intense relief that he wasn't sure how he could stand it. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and bit his lip. His dick started to harden.

Carlos stroked his erection. "That's it, querido. That's it, baby."

And Joseph felt suddenly, intensely grateful to his body. It wasn't going to betray or disappoint him. It wasn't going to cheat him out of his moment. He would be able to make love with Carlos, as he wanted so desperately.

This knowledge seemed to excite Carlos, too. He pressed a frenzy of kisses to Joseph's forehead, his eyelids, cheeks, mouth, nose, anywhere he could reach. He lined a column of kisses down Joseph's throat, to his breasts, and paid court to them while he caressed Joseph's cock.

Finally, Carlos sank to his knees and placed hot, wet kisses on Joseph's belly, the hollow triangle of his hip, the soft skin of his scrotum.

Joseph gulped for air. Pulsing electric desire thrummed through his body. All he wanted was to take Carlos' head in his hands and press him to his straining cock. But he fought this urge and curled his fingers under, resting them benignly on Carlos' shoulders. He wouldn't force him, wouldn't ever hurt him. He wasn't Gus, and he wouldn't treat Carlos the way Gus had treated him.

There was no need, anyway. Carlos was nothing if not willing. He rubbed his cheek affectionately against Joseph's hard, leaking cock, and then engulfed it, eager to taste him. For a moment, Joseph's world went blank and dark. The only thing that existed was the hot, wet pull of Carlos' mouth on his cock and the volcanic pleasure building deep inside his belly.

Joseph realized that he'd never appreciated being sucked before. Not really. Not completely. Oh sure, he'd liked it, wanted it, even begged for it on occasion. Madeleine had never been too keen on taking his thing in her mouth, as she'd put it so primly. But he'd never fully registered the intense intimacy of it, the sweetness of another person's breath stirring your most private parts, the generosity of a lover bending to your pleasure, making you the center of the sensual universe. It was only now that he had given head himself, so many times, that he truly understood what a gift it was.

And, God, Carlos was so good at it. He tongued the pulsing vein along the underside of Joseph's cock, suckled the head, licked at the little slit, teased the circumcision scar, all the things that did Joseph in, that made him feel as if he were about to fly apart, shatter, into a million orgasmic pieces.

There would never again be any use trying to pretend to himself or anyone else. The fact was that he liked having sex with men. And sex with Carlos-- Well, that was beyond any experience.

He loved the feel of Carlos' square, capable hands on his hips, the broad, well-muscled shoulders beneath his own hands. And when Carlos gently pushed one slick finger inside him, he loved that too, not caring for once what such a thing might mean about him. All that mattered was the white hot tugging of Carlos' mouth on his dick, the sweet glide and press of that questing finger, tripping some live wire deep inside him, the little nub that Gus had always ignored, but that Carlos stroked and rubbed and ignited. Violent sparks of ecstasy shot up Joseph's spine and blew out the pleasure centers of his brain, as he came ferociously in Carlos' sweet, welcoming mouth.

He really didn't know how he kept from falling down. It was as if all his bones had liquefied. There were no structural supports left to hold him up. But then, as he came back to his senses, he realized it was because Carlos' arms were around him. He had gotten to his feet while Joseph was lost in post-orgasmic bliss and was steadying him, embracing him. Joseph's head rested on Carlos' shoulder. Carlos stroked his hair, nuzzled his neck, murmured affectionate nonsense in his ear. Joseph couldn't remember ever feeling so good, certainly not since he'd come to prison, perhaps not in his whole life.

Eventually, through the blurry cotton wool of satiation, he remembered the need to reciprocate, became aware of Carlos' turgid heat pressed insistently against his hip, the skittery rush of Carlos' needful breath. Despite the urgency of his desire, Carlos' hands were undemanding, unhurried, consummately tender as they stroked and petted and soothed Joseph's flushed, sweat-slicked skin. And this, more than anything else, kindled an answering need in Joseph--to give, to touch, to please.

He lifted his head heavily from Carlos' shoulder. Carlos brushed the hair out of his face and kissed him. Joseph could taste himself in Carlos' mouth. It was oddly arousing, and he drank deeply of it, his own flavor mingled so inextricably with his lover's.

Carlos smiled against Joseph's lips, understanding. "So, so sweet," he murmured in agreement.

"Please," Joseph said between kisses. "I want you to."

Carlos gathered Joseph to him. "Are you sure, baby?"

"Yes." And after only a brief hesitation, "Take me."

Joseph felt, rather than heard, the whispered "thank you" against the skin of his shoulder, and then Carlos was guiding him backward, toward the wall, careful not to break the heated clench of their bodies. Joseph's back connected with smooth, solid tile, and then Carlos was covering him like a sweltering blanket, making him sweat, making him mewl with need.

After the long months of deprivation, it was so easy to get lost now, and Joseph did, in the simmer of flesh, the tangle of limbs, the muddle of desire. It was only when Carlos put a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn him around to face the wall that he snapped back to himself.

"No!" he said vehemently, his passion-sapped muscles tensing, resisting.

Carlos froze. "Sorry, baby. God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"No," Joseph said, quickly. "No, it's not-- I do want you." Admitting it out loud made his cheeks burn. "It's just-- I want-- I need-- To see your face."

He felt the sharp inhalation of Carlos' breath and then the tremor in his arms.

"Oh, querido, querido. What you do to me." He buried his face in the hollow of Joseph's neck and whispered, "I love you, Joseph."

And then, Joseph was being hoisted up, his back pressed into the slick tiles, and Carlos was sliding into him, smoothly, deeply, burying himself in Joseph with one strong thrust. Joseph's head spun, from the dizzying sensation of having Carlos inside him, and the word, "love, love," buzzing through his veins. He locked his legs around Carlos' waist, and Carlos started to move, possessing him. Joseph never had any idea it could be like this, so right, so good, not a violation the way it was with Gus, but the sweetest kind of completion.

Amazingly, his cock began to harden again, despite the female hormones swimming in his blood, and the toe-curling orgasm he'd had only a short while ago.

"Carlos, Carlos," he moaned, stroking his fingers through thick, wavy hair.

"I love you, querido," Carlos murmured.

And then Joseph felt Carlos' mouth on his breast, and that put an end to any rational thought. Everything was drowned out by the exquisite sensations of his body, the arousing slip and slide of his erection against Carlos' rock-hard belly, the electric ecstasy that shot up his spine as Carlos' cock found that secret spot inside him again and again, the hard, pebbled pleasure of his nipples as Carlos suckled them.

Carlos moved harder and faster, and Joseph rubbed himself more frantically against Carlos' stomach. He could feel Carlos getting harder inside him, getting close, and his own orgasm welled up inside him. And then his seed was splashing all over Carlos, and Carlos was coming in heated spurts inside him. And Joseph felt consummated, perfected, whole. At last.

Even after it was over, they didn't move, not right away. Carlos' arms trembled, but he held Joseph up, rested his head on Joseph's breasts, savored their physical connection. Only when Carlos had softened enough to slip from Joseph's body did he gently lower him to the ground. Joseph's knees started to buckle, and Carlos grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Are you okay, querido?" he asked.

Joseph kissed him. "Better than okay."

Carlos smiled. "Me too." And kissed him back.

Joseph curled his body against Carlos', relishing the sensation of skin against skin. After sex with Gus, he always wanted to get up, get away, get clean. But with Carlos, he just couldn't get enough. He wanted it to go on forever, the touches, the kisses, the smoldering glances from beneath Carlos' dark lashes that swept over him like an ocular caress. He even luxuriated in the sensation of come drooling out of his ass, usually so shameful, but now like a badge of honor, evidence of his man's overwhelming passion for him.

His man, his man. He kissed Carlos' neck, stroked his back. God, yes. Carlos was his man. And he had been for so long. And it felt so fucking fantastic to finally be able to admit it, to say it out loud.

He pulled back, to look dreamily into Carlos' eyes. "Me too, Carlos. What you said before--" He blushed like a schoolboy. "I really--"

But Carlos pressed a finger to his lips. "No, baby. Please."

"But--"

Carlos shook his head. "I can't. Can't let you say it. It's no good for you, Joseph."

Joseph clutched his arm, even as Carlos tried to extricate himself from their embrace. "But it's what I feel," Joseph insisted. "It always has been. Always."

"No. God. Please, querido." Carlos' eyes were suspiciously bright. "You're leaving tomorrow. Going back home where you belong. And I'm-- I'm not going to be seeing you anymore."

"Carlos. No. I can come back. I can visit--"

"No!" Carlos' mouth pressed itself into a grim line of determination. "You get away from this place and don't you ever come back here again. You got me, querido? No calls, no letters. A clean break."

Joseph was crying. "But I don't want it to be that way."

"Neither do I. But-- Shit. It is. And-- Just--" He brushed his lips against Joseph's. "Goodbye, baby. Try to be happy out there. 'Cause you deserve that. You-- You just-- Shit." Now Carlos was crying. "Bye, Joseph."

He grabbed his clothes and threw them on and practically ran from the shower room. All Joseph could do was watch him go, trying to fight back the deep sense of grief welling up inside him. He didn't know what else he had expected. Of course, it would end like this. Of course. It had to. There was no other way.

But, God, it sure did hurt like hell.

Somehow, Joseph managed to pull himself together. He washed away the evidence of his lovemaking with Carlos, got dressed, checked his face in the mirror to make sure no one could tell he'd been crying. He walked with leaden steps back to the cell. He could still detect the hint of Carlos on his skin, a faint scent that had somehow survived the vigorous scrubbing he'd given himself. He breathed in deeply, trying to savor it. His heart flip-flopped achingly in his chest.

At the door of the cell, Gus was waiting for him, shifting his weight impatiently.

"Took you long enough," he said.

Reality slapped Joseph in the face like an open hand. All the warmth that had soaked into him from the shower and Carlos' heated embrace leeched out of him, and he found himself shivering.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize you were waiting for me."

It surprised Joseph what he felt, not terror, but guilt, the sullied sensibility of a cheating wife. A line from an old song drifted through his thoughts: "you can't hide your lying eyes." He wondered, with a start, if that was true, if Gus could read in his face where he'd been and what he'd been doing. He lowered his gaze, just in case.

"Well, you're here now," Gus said, relenting a little. "And we need to talk."

"Talk, sir?" Joseph asked, trying to sound casually curious, trying not to give anything away.

"Sit down."

He motioned toward the bunk, and Joseph sank down onto the edge of the mattress.

"Is something wrong, sir?" he asked.

"No. Well, yes." Gus sighed. "Look, Sunshine, there's just no use us pretending anymore. This marriage is done with."

"Sir?" Joseph asked, his heart rattling against his chest in terror.

"You're gettin' out. I'm not much on-- what do you call it? Long distance relationships."

Joseph started to panic. "But, sir--"

Gus sighed. "Okay, I'm going to come clean here, Sunshine. I got my eye on somebody else."

Joseph blinked, stunned. He had been expecting some accusation about Carlos, some fearful scene, the back of Gus' hand against his face, swift husbandly retribution. But not this. Not this at all.

"Cute little redhead who came in this morning," Gus explained. "Never been touched. I can always tell. But he's not gonna last long. You know how it is around here."

"Please, sir--" Joseph started to beg.

To his great consternation, he felt his lower lip start to tremble. It didn't seem to matter that only moments ago Joseph had been with the man he truly loved or that he was getting out in the morning. Or that he'd never exactly been thrilled about being Gus' wife. Or even that he'd always realized Gus would move on after he was released. It still really hurt that he couldn't even wait until Joseph was actually gone before he found someone else to share his bed.

"Oh, come on now, Sunshine. Don't look like that. Nobody could ever take your place. You know that. Hell, you been the best woman I ever had, inside prison or out. But you're not going to be around. And a man's got his needs."

"But what about me? What's going to happen to me? When word gets out--"

Gus shook his head. "No, no, Sunshine. You're not understanding me. I'm not talking about a divorce. More like one them-- annulments. You know what I mean?

"I don't think so, sir."

"What I'm saying is that you done everything I ever asked, Sunshine. Been one hell of a woman. Better than I even hoped. So don't you worry none. Tomorrow, you're gonna walk out of here safe and sound. I promise you."

Joseph clutched Gus' hand. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I can't tell you how grateful I am--"

Gus shook his head. "No thanks necessary, Sunshine. It's what I promised you for being a good wife. And don't ever let it be said Gus Mattison don't honor his promises." Gus snapped his fingers. "Oh, and hey-- I got a little going away present for you."

He stood up, went to the cupboard and came back to the bunk with a prescription bottle. He handed it to Joseph.

Joseph could only stare, truly dumbfounded. Gus' notion of a going-away gift left a lot to be desired.

"It's, um--" he stuttered.

Gus nodded. "Yeah. It's your hormones. For your titties. Go ahead and take it with you. I got more where that came from."

"That's really nice, but I don't think--" He tried to hand the bottle back to Gus.

Gus held up his hand and refused to take it. "Look, Sunshine, I know you got some crazy idea in your head about going back to your wife and your old life and being a man again and all that. But I got to be honest with you. You just aren't cut out for it."

He shook his head sadly at Joseph.

"As a man, you're a big failure," he said. "You know it. I know it. Everybody in this place knows it. But you make a damned fine woman. So do yourself a favor. Find a man and settle down and be a good wife to him, the way you been to me. You'll be a lot happier than trying to pretend you got any stones of your own. All you need to do is look for a husband who doesn't mind titties and dick together. They're out there."

Joseph thought briefly of Carlos, and he felt a pained hunger. If only he could find that again, the sweet acceptance, the tender understanding-- But, of course, that was not what Gus meant, not love, but humiliating subservience, someone who would use Joseph and control him. That's all Gus thought he was good for.

Gus' face lit up, as if he'd just had a brainstorm. "Or you know what would be even better? You find yourself a doctor and get that thing between your legs taken care of right. They can do that now, you know. Fix you up a pretty pink pussy to go with those gorgeous tits I gave you. And then you'll be perfect. The perfect woman."

Joseph sat there for a long moment, with his mouth open. His impulse was to argue, to scream, to say "how fucking dare you!" But this was fleeting. The survival sense quickly returned, and he pressed his lips together into a thin, strained line of silence. Arguing with Gus was like arguing with the wall. Besides, his safe passage out of this hell was only at Gus' sufferance.

"Thank you, sir," he said, quietly. "I'll think about it."

Gus nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good." He shifted his weight restlessly. "Well, Sunshine--"

Joseph fidgeted, awkwardly. What was the appropriate way to say goodbye to someone who had, by turns, abused and protected you? Was he supposed to hug Gus? Thank him for taking his cherry, turning him into a woman, screwing with his head?

"See ya," Gus said, nonchalantly.

He whistled as he sauntered out of the cell, most likely off to propose to his next wife.

Joseph sat on the bunk, too shocked to move. He stared at the bottle in his hand, and an unaccustomed rage bubbled up inside him.

It was so easy for Gus. He could just throw out all these disturbing ideas, and then move on to the next conquest, confident in his masculinity. Even though he engaged in homosexual acts every night, he never had to question himself, because he was always on top, always in complete control, dominating his partner completely. But Joseph-- well, Joseph was left to sort out the wreck of his sexual identity. To figure out why he was sometimes curious about what it would be like to have sex as a woman, to feel wetness between his legs instead of hardness. To explain to himself the intense pleasure he'd felt from being penetrated by Carlos. To understand why he couldn't just flush these female hormones down the toilet and be done with it once and for all.

He really hated Gus. He hated him for opening up a dangerous Pandora's box in his psyche that was proving so very difficult to close.

That night, Joseph lay on his cot after lights out, expecting the usual nightly conjugal visit from his husband. But after what seemed like forever, he finally realized that there were snores coming from the upper bunk. Apparently, their conversation earlier in the day had signaled the final dissolution of their marriage. For all Joseph knew, Gus had already laid claim to his next bride, and was abstaining from sex with Joseph out of respect for the new little woman.

Eventually, Joseph drifted into a fitful sleep, too keyed up about the big day to get any real rest. When something roused him, he opened his eyes, expecting to see daylight. But it was still the middle of the night, and his husband loomed over him.

"Sir?" he whispered.

Gus stroked his cheek with his fingers. "My little Sunshine."

"Do you want-- Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

Gus pushed back the blanket and fondled Joseph's bare breasts. "Did you really think I'd let you get away with it?"

"Sir?" Joseph asked, his heart pounding.

"Was he good? Did you call out his name while he was fucking you? Huh? Did he make you scream? Did he make you come?"

"I don't know what you mean--" Joseph tried to deny.

Gus squeezed his breast cruelly. "Don't you lie to me, you faithless little whore. I know all about you spreading your legs for that Spic punk. And I bet it's not the first time either. Don't think I haven't seen the way you two look at each other."

"No! I swear, sir. It was the only time. Because I was getting out, and we weren't going to be married anymore. I wouldn't have done it otherwise. Oh, please! Please, don't hurt me!" Joseph begged.

Gus put his fingers against Joseph's lips. "Ssh. Ssh. I'm not going to hurt you, Sunshine. I'm going to give you what you really want, but don't have the guts to admit. I'm going to make it easy for you to fuck all the guys you want. Get ready, Sunshine. It's time to become a real woman."

Gus pushed the covers away, yanked down Joseph's tuck and savagely grabbed his scrotum.

"Say goodbye to them!"

He lifted his arm, and Joseph saw the silvery flash of a knife blade in the dim light.

"NOOOOO!" he screamed.

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