JUVEE

BY SHAKEY PSYCHE

[ part 2 ]

It wasn’t until the Christmas holidays that things went from bad to worse. I was coming home from visiting a friend of mine (one that everyone else didn’t like either; he was too big). It was along a trail through a set of sparse woods next to a swimming pool that it happened. This would change my life forever.

I was walking my bike down the trail and the three of them were walking up it. I freaked out inside; knowing what was coming. My outsides began shaking like a hippo hanging from a twig. They saw me and that was all it took for things to begin. Tommy and William were on me in a heartbeat.

My arms were pinned behind my back and I was thrown to the ground a small distance away. Brian grabbed my bike and threw it far enough away that I couldn’t get it easily. Tommy and William were already stripping me of my clothing. Jacket came off and my shirt was next. Preteen laughter echoed throughout the small wooded area. A thick branch was pressed into my cheek as my face was ground into the dirt.

That was when something snapped inside me. With a lot of struggling and some luck, I was able to get my hand free and grab the branch. A twist of my body brought my arm up with the branch in my hand. The end connected with William’s face and sent him reeling away from me. In the same stroke, the short end made contact with Tommy’s cheek and he went to the ground.

I rolled to sit up and as Brian came at me, I racked his nuts as hard as I could with the bottom of my right trainer. He bowled over and slumped to the ground. Tommy was the first to recover, and I knew he would be, so I turned to face him. He was struggling to get up, when I brought the branch down hard on his lower back; twice.

William got up and ran at me, blood flowing from a gash in his cheek. I turned and swung the small log across the side of his right knee. He buckled and went back to the ground. In the same fluid motion, I brought my weapon down on his face as he had landed on his back, face-up. The blow knocked him unconscious, as well as a few teeth out of his head. Tommy was groaning beside me, but my attentions were now on Brian; the root of all this trouble.

As I turned towards him, he was trying to move away from me on his hand and knees. One hand was cupping his aching balls. He was able to put one hand in the air as he pleaded with me to stop. There was only one thing going through my mind; revenge.

Four months of pent-up rage at him was coming to a head. My blood was boiling at the thought of what he had done to me at the bridge. His hand had left the ground as well, trying to further plead his case with its brother hand.

“Please, Ryan, I’m sorry for what I did to you, man. Please don’t do anything to me.” I was barely hearing him through the pounding pulse in my ears.

I raised my weapon over my head and brought it down with all my strength. It nailed his head and broke. Brian collapsed onto the ground, and I threw the useless branch away. I jumped on him and began hitting every exposed area of skin I could find. His hands had tried to fend me off at the beginning, but soon enough, he was unconscious, and I didn’t stop there.

Rage surged through me and I brought fist upon fist down on his limp body. I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. His face was the primary area of my focus, but his chest, belly and groin were also connected. At one point, there was a snap, but I didn’t bother stopping to wonder where it came from. Even though my knuckles were hurting, I didn’t stop until I felt a hand around my wrist.

I turned to see a cop staring back at me, and without thinking, I kicked him in the groin. His partner grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. My arms were wretched behind my back and cuffs were clamped around my wrists and still I struggled with him. I didn’t want to be tied with anything. I hated it.

He picked me up and carried me, kicking and flailing as best as I could, to the back seat of his patrol car. He threw me down on the seat, and slammed the door closed. I kicked at the window, but didn’t make so much as a crack in the glass.

“Settle down, kid,” the cop said as he came back to the car. He called into his dispatch needing an ambulance. Even cuffed, I was still nothing less than a wildcat in that back seat. Adrenaline was still shooting through my veins like heroine. I wanted out to continue the work I had started.

Finally, the drug wore off, and I was back to semi-normal. At the same time, the ambulance arrived and the three others were taken to the hospital. While they were taken there, I was taken to the police station for booking.

The cop led me to the back room where I was stripped of all my clothes. A burly cop did a body cavity search on me, looking for God knows what, while I leaned against the wall. To this day, I still think he enjoyed that.

I was showered and then given a small jumper before being led to processing. My picture was taken with one of those stupid signboards and then I was fingerprinted. After that fun, I was led to a cell with a second bed in it, but no one else was there. A man in the cell next to mine was snickering as I was led inside.

“What did you do, kid? Mouth off to a teacher?” he chided. I ignored the asshole.

My parents arrived an hour later and the cop told them what I did. Both of them were appalled at my actions. Nevermind it was three on one. Nevermind that these were the idiots that had made my life hell over the past several months. Nevermind that some cop had had two of his fingers up my butt. They were upset at what I had done, not what had been done to me. Now that’s American Justice for you, but I was about to see more of that justice.

Even though my father was an officer, we were not able to afford the bond to get me out of jail before I went to court. When I saw my attorney, even I was less than impressed. He looked about two years older than me.

He talked to me like he didn’t care about what had happened. He did tell me what had happened to the three idiots, though. All three were still in the hospital, of course. Brian was in ICU and hanging on by a thread. Tommy, they said, was going to be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. Good, I thought, when he told me that. And William was in traction. They said that he will never walk or move properly again.

He talked to me about my defense, but I didn’t care about it. My parents didn’t bother coming to any of the preliminary proceedings or meetings with my attorney. They didn’t seem to care, either. I told him what had happened to me before and that Jennifer would be a witness for me. When he returned after getting that bit of news, he said that the Jennifer I spoke of didn’t know what I was talking about. I was even more infuriated at that. She had the courage to stand up for me before, but not now.

When the trial started, my lawyer told me some even more wonderful news. We were getting a judge that wanted to make a statement on juvenile crime. Also, an assistant district attorney that wanted to make a name for himself. I figured that I was not coming out of that courtroom alive. Also, an infection had set in for Brian and the doctors were not optimistic about his chances of living. If he died as a result of this, then I would probably spend the rest of my teenage years, and some adult years, behind bars.

The trial was nothing more than a formality. One week of bringing evidence against me and four hours of me telling my side of the story. Tommy and William were brought to the stand to give their story; the perfect little angels that they were. Teachers didn’t help either. On the last day of testimony and evidence, Brian died in the hospital. They changed one charge from assault to manslaughter.

Anyone can guess the outcome after that bit of news. It didn’t take the jury an hour to deliberate and deliver the verdict.

“Ryan Arthur Watson,” the judge said aloud, “please stand.” I stood alone, not that I wasn’t used to that by this time. “Would the jury please deliver the verdict?”

A man about the age of dirt stood up and said, “We the jury find the defendant guilty of all charges, your honor.”

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and dismissed them.

The sentencing was a week later; on my eleventh birthday. I was told that I was to spend the rest of my teenage years in a juvenile detention facility. Great; just what I always wanted. Eleven years old, and I would never set foot into an open area again until I was an adult.

My parents hugged me as they took me away in handcuffs to my new home. They promised that they would visit me every week. Like the gullible little idiot, I believed them. I’ve only seen them once since that day.

The trip to the facility was uneventful, as I was the only one on the bus going there. We pulled up and the guard ushered me inside. The balding warden talked to me about the rules. I was, again, less than impressed. A new guard took me down to the linen dispensary where I got my sheets, blanket and pillow.

He led me to my cell and when he opened it to let me inside, I felt his nightstick slide up between the back of my legs. I turned to face him, and he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. I certainly didn’t like it. He motioned me inside and I went. He turned and left me alone; for now.

The bottom bunk was made like someone else was already there. I wondered at who it could be. I didn’t have to wonder long. As I was finishing making my bunk like the other one, I heard a voice at the door.

“You gotta be fucking kidding,” it said. I turned to see a black teenager.

He was tall and a little gangly. His black afro was holding up a black pick. A toothpick was sticking out of his mouth as he leaned up against the doorframe. I stepped back away from the bed.

“What the fuck did you do to get in here, kid? Not eat your veggies?” he was chiding me as the others did back at the county cell.

“Manslaughter,” I told him. It was a term I had come to know intimately over the past few weeks.

“Wait, I know you now. You killed that one kid and put the other two in the hospital. Right?”

I nodded.

“Sweet,” he said, smiling and walked up to me. He had his hand out to me, and getting wiser by the second, I was leery about taking it. “You don’t wanna dis me, boy,” he threatened, but still smiled. Cautiously, I took it. We shook, and parted. “The names, Clyde. Yours?”

“Ryan,” I said, growing more comfortable with him.

“Couple of things you needs to know bout this place, Ry,” he started.

“What’s that?” I asked, wanting anything to help me out.

“Well, no one lives on their own in here. You gotta make friends. You already got some respect from what you did to get in here. Others won’t make too much trouble for you, but you can’t be goin’ off on your own too much.”

“Okay,” prompting him on.

“Next, some of the guards are to be careful of, like Wilkins and Turner. If they like you, then you in for some trouble.”

“I think it was Wilkins that brought me down here,” I told him.

“He do anything to ya?”

“He ran his stick up the back of my legs and on my butt,” I confessed.

“You in for a rough time, boy. Ain’t no one gonna tangle with him in here. Even the warden’s afraid of him. And he’s mean, too.”

“But I ain’t done nothin’,” I told him.

“Don’t matter to him,” he said, with genuine sympathy in his eyes.

At chow that evening, everyone turned to look at me. I looked at Clyde and he smiled. He told me not to worry and that I was a celebrity already, but not to get too big of a head about it. He also said to always keep an eye out around me. Never be lazy around any of them.

He led me to a group of others his age and skin color and I sat with them. He introduced each of them to me and I had to remember their names in turn when he did. The rest of the meal, I just sat there listening to them talk about the comings and goings of the place. They called the place, “Juvee”, so I did too.

Clyde was right. Even though I was new to the place, others were looking at me with certain awe. During assembly time in the dayroom, I kept to Clyde and the others of his small group. There were only about five of them, but it was enough to help ward off the others.

I learned the cliques quickly. There were about six or seven of them spread out throughout the facility. Some groups were larger than the others, but mostly they kept to themselves. Not too much trouble erupted throughout the place.

The first couple of days passed without incident. Friday night was the time that Wilkins and Turner were on night watch. Right as the lights were turned off, the cell door opened and Wilkins walked inside.

“Get up,” he said, poking the nightstick into my back.

I turned and looked at him. He was in no mood for any arguments. I swung my legs over the side and hopped down to the floor. With the nightstick in my back, he led me out of the cell. I didn’t even bother looking at Clyde. I knew he was probably feigning sleep.

He led me down the hall to the kitchen. I asked him where we were going.

“You’ll see soon enough, meat,” he said coldly and a shiver ran down my spine.

I was led through the cooking area and to a room behind it. The door opened into the boiler room for the hole facility. Turner was waiting for me with a smile that sent another shiver down my spine.

“Strip,” he ordered, still smiling at me.

“What?” I asked back.

A whoosh and smack against my butt brought me to my knees. Pain like no other erupted from my struck muscles. I hit the ground, reaching back to cover my body.

“He said, ‘strip’, boy,” Wilkins said, smiling just as sadistically. “And I suggest you do as he said, or another hit will land.”

I nodded and stripped as I stood up, aching from the blow I took from his stick. My night clothes were piled up on the floor and I was standing before the two men with only a pair of briefs on.

“Totally, boy,” Turner told me.

Embarrassingly, but not wanting another hit from the stick, I stripped off my small briefs. Inside of two seconds, he brought out his smaller sized handcuffs and cuffed my wrist, turning me around to attach the free cuff to my opposite wrist. My arms were pulled backward hard and my wrists were brought up my back. My fingers were actually touching my hair. A small rope was wound around my neck and shoulders to attach the cuffs to my upper back. The rope was not tied around my neck as the marks would be difficult to explain to the administration.

I was stood back up and Turner grabbed my hair and pulled my face to his covered groin. He ground my face against his swelling erection for several minutes. I heard the sound of a zipper behind me followed by cloth being shuffled around. It took a second for my mind to calculate what had just happened and as soon as it did, Wilkins’s cock flopped down on my spine. I had no idea what he was about to do with that thing, but whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good for me. He stroked it along the length of my spine for a short time, and I felt it get larger and firmer.

Without further ado, he backed up and as it touched the barrier to my backdoor, I knew what he was about to do to me. I struggled against Turner holding me down, but with my arms in the extreme position they were in, there was no hope of ever getting free from him. It didn’t stop me from trying, though.

With one hard lunge, Wilkins speared my asshole. I screamed bloody murder into Turner’s crotch. I cried, struggled, pleaded and did everything I could to make him take that invading missile out of me. But all that effort was in vain. With that initial entry, he had only gotten a portion his cock inside my bowels.

“Jesus, this brat’s tight, Turn,” he said to his cohort.

“I’m sure, man, but I can’t wait to have his mouth,” he said back.

Meanwhile, I was in pure hell. Wilkins continued to shove more and more of his monster cock up my tight hole. I moved my legs around, trying to dislodge him, but with him holding onto me by my hips; it didn’t do much to help. I continued to cry, scream, and plead with him to stop, but my words fell on deaf ears.

With the hit from the nightstick earlier and his cock tearing into me, my whole ass felt like it was on fire. The utter pain of it all was unbearable, and then Turner did the unthinkable. He unzipped his pants also. Reaching inside, he fished out his own swollen member and presented it to my face.

“Take it in your mouth, meat. No teeth or I will knock every single one of them out of your head. Got it?”

I nodded, and without any other choice, I opened my mouth for him. He fed it inside and only about a third of it disappeared before it hit my tonsil. I gagged at the touch, but it didn’t stop him from pushing further. More tears rolled down my face as he shoved his cock past my gag reflex and down my gullet. My nose made contact with his pubic hair just as I felt Wilkins’s hair being squashed between his crotch and my ass.

My knees buckled at the realization of having two men fucking me and Wilkins reached under my belly to hold me in place. Turner began pulling out of my throat and I thought it might be over for him, but he only did it to begin the real fun for him as he began fucking my throat. As he pulled out, so did Wilkins from my ass. They buried themselves back inside me simultaneously as well.

Obviously, they had been doing this for a long time together, because they kept up a perfect rhythm of pummeling both ends. Wilkins ordered me to put my legs down and straighten them or he would hit me again with the stick. I did, and he really began to fuck my asshole.

I really did start to feel like a used piece of meat as they used me that night. I was nothing more than a couple of holes to fuck and that was it. Wilkins bellowed out his orgasm first, and I felt liquid being shot inside my bowels. I didn’t know what it was until I asked Clyde about it later and he told me. I almost threw up right then.

Turner followed closely behind him to empty his seed into my mouth and down my throat. I almost choked to death on it as it came out too fast for me to take. Some of it ran down my chin.

My legs were sticky as he pulled his waning member from my throat. I didn’t know if it was from Wilkins’s seed or from blood, but all I cared about was that both of them were out of me, and I could be myself again. My hands were released from the cuffs and torso rope by Turner while Wilkins handed me my clothes. I was marched unceremoniously back to my cell and Clyde. The door was opened and I was thrown inside, landing flat on the floor. My clothes scattered across the concrete. The door was closed and I was left in my pain.

Clyde made his way over to me and helped me up to get cleaned in the sink. He showed me how to shove toilet paper between my buttcheeks to absorb the blood until it stopped. He dressed me and lifted me back onto the top bunk.

I cried myself to sleep that night, imagining I was worlds away from there. I was on another planet that didn’t do this to their people or kids. It was a fantasy world, but I held onto it as if my life depended on it. I was hoping it would come true the next day. But it didn’t.