Supermax

CHARLIE

Jamie had just finished going over the daily briefing for the precinct - what crimes were outstanding, who were the likely suspects, things to watch out for, etc. Now it was assignment time.

"Cochran and Viera - you're going to court..."

The two officers groaned.

"Shuddup." He grinned. "Part of the Job, fellas. Be your charming selves and make sure you get a conviction or you'll be on hospital duty for two weeks..."

A throat cleared in the back of the room. "Sergeant, if I may..."

Heads swiveled to see Captain Tanner Morgan leaning against the doorway, a lopsided grin on his face. He sauntered up to the front of the room and looked over at us. He was wearing a yellow shirt stretched over his muscular frame and a gold-and-green patterned tie was pulled slightly down from his open collar. He ran a hand through his thick, sable hair and brilliant emerald eyes scanned the room.

"Men, an assignment has come up with the FBI and DEA. Depending on your inclinations..." He grinned. "... it may or may not be exactly pleasant, but I do have to say that we were asked for specifically."

"I'm looking for volunteers. However, there are some very specific physical requirements that must be met. Height between five-eleven and six-one, weight between one-eighty and two-hundred..."

He paused. "... and finally, quote 'trim, ripped and muscled as fuck' unquote, but I don't think that will be an issue."

Laughter and chuckles spread throughout the room.

"Those of you that fit into this description and want to volunteer, please come to my office ASAP so I can make the determinations. Those of you not selected should come back down for your assignments. Thank you all."

* * *

Five of us wound up heading to Cap's office: myself, Micah Benchley, Cash Ingraham, Archie Brandt and Bryan Joseph. Archie and Bryan had been Transformed once more into their respective alter-egos of Donte McIntyre and Isaiah Fulton, and were doing repeat performances as convicted felons. He waved us in, and motioned us to take a seat at the conference table. He locked the door.

"Do you know who 'Oswaldo Batista' is?" He handed us each a picture of a handsome-as-hell Latino. He built like a porn star, with bulging muscles under smooth skin in all the right places; he also had a detailed inked backpiece. Dark eyes, a small razor-cut beard and a wicked smirk completed the picture.

Micah's brow furrowed. "He's that big drug kingpin that just got sentenced to life without parole, isn't he?"

I spoke up. "On a 'Rico Landry' scale of one to ten, this guy is a one-hundred-fifteen."

Donte gulped. "Shee-it..." 

"Exactly. There have been some rather disturbing indications that some of the Corrections officers at his holding facility and perhaps, some local DEA agents,  have been compromised. We've been asked to make sure he gets to his Supermax facility without incident. No one is expecting the NYPD to take this on, so we're a completely unknown quantity in the equation."

Cap continued. "We're going to run you as decoys. While you are being transported as Batista, he'll arrive at Thornwood by a completely different method."

"Thornwood? I never heard of that place, Cap. Is it new? I thought that Florence ADX was the only Supermax in the US."

Morgan shook his head. "It's a privately run institution. In fact, it's run by the same people that oversee the Molanto syndicate." He gave us a tight grin at our astonished expressions. "They have the means, motive and opportunity to make sure that sonofabitch stays put."

Cash spoke up. "But Cap, we don't look anything like this guy - how are we going to pull that off? Is Zack going to fix us up?"

"Nope - we're doing it old school this time - all of you will secured into stealth-type bodysuits to be made indistinguishable from each other. There's some other stuff that will go on as well, but that's the gist of it. You'll be out of commission between a day and a week, depending on how the transport goes."

My cock thickened and twitched at his description, and I could see that it was having the same effect on the other guys as well. Particularly Micah.

He paused and turned to the two Transformed black thugs. "I know Hawke, Benchley and Ingraham are available, but what about you two? McIntyre, don't you have a heroin delivery this week?"

Donte shook his head. "It gotz delayed, Suh. Dem muthafuckas in Thailand iz blowin' each otha up durin' summ type ov gang war. We iz waitin' fo' da dust t'settle b'fore we getz our deliv'ry. Ah cain tellz you dat evry'boddy iz reel twitchy right now... even if'n dis iz fuckin' wiff mah cash flow... Ah'm happy t'be outta here fo' a while... "

Isaiah stretched and his bright grin lit up his dark face. "I'm runnin' a long con, Cap. No problem fo' me t'be away fo' a week o' two, neither..."

Bryan's original charm was magnified by Isaiah's wickedly delightful persona; this made him an amazingly effective con man that had already recovered millions of dollars from various criminals and other tricksters. Ninety percent of the funds were always returned to those cheated; the remaining ten percent was split between Zack's money-laundering contacts in the Molanto crime syndicate and the Silver Shield Foundation.

Morgan looked at his watch. "I'm scheduled to catch a flight to Nogales in an hour to meet up with Mr. Batista... the flight takes about seven hours. I want the five of you to come back here at 3pm and go thru that door..." He pointed to the door to his bathroom.

At our confused looks he smiled. "I know... I know. Just trust me on this. Everything will make sense after that happens."

* * *

At 2:58pm, the five of us went into Cap's office and walked over the the bathroom door and opened it.

Donte twisted the knob. "Well, here goez nuthin'..." and crossed the doorway. We followed...

... to find ourselves in a large airy conference room. There were multiple carafes of coffee and several trays of various pastries filling the room with mouthwatering aromas of sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate and other spices. The door we had passed through had vanished.

"What the hell...???"

Micah walked over to the the large picture windows; the tableau was that of a compact, modern glass-and-steel city with a vast desert stretching beyond it. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, creating a rosy, aureate glow into the rapidly lightening sky.

Damn, we're at the Castle... I had felt that familiar tingle of a wormhole when I passed the doorway and figured that we'd be finding out a lot more in a very short time.

At the far end of the room, there was another door. There was a quick knock and three men entered the room. Two were in snug, unmarked, black fatigues and string tanks that did nothing to hide their amazingly tanned and muscular bodies. The other was outfitted in a suit of metallic black and scarlet armor that glinted evilly in the overhead lights. A familiar face smiled and stretched out his arms.

"Uncle Danny!" I ran over to him. It felt so good to be in his embrace. He didn't look a day over twenty-five; no one at the Castle did, despite their actual ages.

The black armor was nearly hot to the touch. "Hey Tiger! I've got to go out on patrol, but I wanted to see you before I left!" He looked critically at me and lowered his voice. "You've changed... everything okay?"

I nodded. "It's a long story..."

"I've got leave coming soon... Gabi and I will come visit, and you can tell us all about it..."

He pulled on a thin, black latex mask which completely covered his face, but not his features and slipped a  respirator mask and goggles over his head. He waved as he sauntered out of the room.

The other guys were staring at one of the black-clad men with obvious confusion; whatever went on at the Castle that affected your sex drive had already taken place; all of us were already sporting massive hardons and our urge to breed was just below the redline. Barely.

"Cap? What happened to you? You buzzed your hair? How'd you get that tan?"

The other man grinned. "I'm afraid you've gotten me confused with someone else ... I'm Colonel Tyler Morgan, your CO's younger - by three minutes - and much more handsome brother... I'm the commander of this Army Ranger research facility."

He embraced me as well. "Hey Charlie - welcome back!" He stepped back and looked at me. "Jesus Christ, son... you've gotten BIG!! Did you get taller, too??"

"Thank you, Sir, Glad to be back" I continued sotto voce. "And under happier circumstances, this time..."

Cash was giving me a strange look. "Charlie, you know these guys? You knew Cap had a twin brother?"

I nodded. "It's not something he likes to advertise, so he asked me to keep quiet about it. The Colonel and his partner were at my wedding." That drew expressions of surprise from the other officers.

The other man present put his hands on his hips and gave me a lopsided grin. "And what about me? What am I, chopped liver or something? And after I made sure you guys had food?"

He was darkly handsome with thick wavy, black hair, a deeply burnished skin and a razor-cut stubble across his strong jawline.

I gave him a strong embrace as well. "Of course not, Sid! It's great to see you again too!"

Sid turned to the other guys with a wide smile. "Major Siddig bin Talal. Chief Medical Officer here. But just call me Sid. And yes, boys and girls, the Colonel and I are an item."

Colonel Morgan poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a pastry and began munching.

"Have a seat, fellas ... let me spell out what we're going to do..."

* * *
The colonel explained a bit about the Castle facility, who was there, what it did and how we had gotten from New York to Rafha in the blink of an eye.

"So, Tanner and I are running a false flag operation here. Your disguises will be more of a low-tech sort of endeavor, while transporting Batista will definitely call for more advanced resources. Once we get the five of you to Nogales via wormhole, RIG is going to transport him out and directly to his cell at Thornwood."

"Who's RIG?"
 
The other officers gasped - part in surprise, part in amazement and maybe with a little bit of horror - as the door opened to admit the android.

"Christ Almighty!"

He was just as I remembered him. Gleaming, shiny, black skin was stretched tightly over a powerful (and obviously) male frame. Every artificial muscle on his body was etched with incredible definition. A snap-on pouch of the same material barely covered an obviously huge cut cock and balls. Photoreceptors glowed on his face and heavy, motocross boots covered his feet. He turned to me and his lightly accented British voice was warm with pleasure.

"Charlie!"

I rose from the table and pulled him into an embrace. He returned it with abandon and stroked his ebon hands down my back and fondled my ass as our crotches ground together. His receptors shifted to a deep blue tone and glowed brighter with pleasure as he continued to massage me.

"Good Lord, you always feel so bloody delightful..."

Colonel Morgan addressed the other officers from the Four-One. "RIG is a self-aware, autonomous artificial intelligence - an android. We wanted him to be as human-looking as possible to work with my Army Rangers and the other wingnuts here. Unfortunately, he's also quite a horndog..."

The android gave a gentle laugh as he continued to hold me in his arms and traced gentle designs up and down and across my back as he nuzzled my neck and looked at his CO. "And you wouldn't have me any other way, Colonel!"

It was the Tyler's turn to chuckle.

Sid stood up. "Okay guys, let's get started. Come with me for the medical prep and getting your geotrackers installed."

* * *

MICAH

We followed Sid down a couple of corridors until we got to his medical area. And like I thought, 'medical prep' involved getting an enema. Now I'll admit I enjoy getting my ass stuffed, but NOT with a hose. We got rinsed out three times; Donte and myself got some major cramping, but the upside was that we had a nice cool shower afterwards, a massage, and got wrapped in some really nice fluffy white towels.

Once all of us were out and dried, Doc explained what was going to happen next.

"Okay fellas. Time for the geotrackers. These are going to let us monitor your location and pull you out via an emergency wormhole if necessary. Charlie, bend over and grab your ankles, please?"

Charlie unwrapped the towel and bent over. Sid took a small syringe from a steel tray, pinched his sac and injected the contents. He then patted his ass and he stood up.

"That was it?"

"Yep. It'll take about ten minutes for the nanotech to organize itself, and the tracker will broadcast for about a week."

"Why put it in our ballsacs?"

Sid shrugged. "It's got something to do with the wormhole - 'geodesics', I think is the term -  and the need to build a portal ASAP... having the signal slightly off from the center of gravity is better for the transferee - less headaches and nausea when they arrive at the destination."

He did the same to the rest of us and then handed out some well-padded black posing pouches. They looked like some type of UnderArmour material, except there was more of a dark shimmer to the stuff than ordinary Lycra.

"Next step may be a little uncomfortable..." He walked over to  a cabinet and took out a large jar that looked like they were filled with brightly colored jawbreakers.

"When our guys go out on extended patrols here, we use these emergency hydration packs. They can last about a week, but the downside is they expand in your mouth and you feel like you have a very tasty sock gagging you. Combined with some duct tape, this is going to make sure you can't reveal yourselves accidentally by talking. I've got lemon, orange, tangerine, raspberry and I think there's a tropical punch left as well..."

He paused, "By the way, what are your boot sizes?"

"Ten and a half, Doc"
"Same here, Sir."
"Isaiah an' me takez eleven"
"Eleven here as well, Sir."

We took our pick of the packs and within a few seconds in my mouth, it began to expand. It felt less like a sock and more like a combination of jello and foam rubber; I also found that I couldn't speak. I made some muffled sounds and pointed to my mouth, raising my eyebrows in the process.

"It shrinks as it dries out, and you can always grab it and pull it out - like taffy." With that, starting with me, Doc wrapped a layer of black duct over our mouths that went all around our heads.

Next thing, Sid opened a package and shook out a formfitting black suit. It had an integrated hood, gloves and socks, and there was a zipper with two heads running down the back. It also looked way too small to fit any of us.

"This is the same material as the pouch you've got on - it's got a lot of give, and it also happens to be bulletproof. This will stop a 9mm bullet at two feet - without giving you a bruise."

"Gllggumphm..." Isaiah vocalized and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

He again motioned to Charlie to be the guinea pig. He sat down and began to pull the suit over his legs. True enough, that material had a lot of stretch. Once it was high enough, he stood up and pulled it up his torso, then slipped his hands into the sleeves and smoothed out the material over his massive arms. Sid began pulling the lower zipper over his ass and up his back.

"Head back for me, stud?" Charlie complied and the doctor slipped the mask over his face and pulled the upper zipperhead down to meet it's partner at his neck. He then threaded a plastic security lock through the two heads and fastened it. Charlie rotated his neck and turned to face us.

He looked amazing. The suit masked every feature of his face, but every muscle in his body was in perfect definition, with his cock and balls producing a gigantic, but smooth bulge at his crotch.

He caressed himself and let out an appreciative "Glwwwwww..." and then his dark hands fondled his bulging package. He turned to face us and let out a "Lllllllwwww..." Even though I couldn't see it, I was sure he was grinning from ear to ear.

I couldn't help myself; I walked over to him and stroked my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. The material felt like a combination of silk and steel. His shadow-black hands pulled me close to him so our crotches ground together as he made designs down my back and then squeezed my ass. We both grunted in happiness.

"Charlie - vision okay?" The dark figure nodded and gave two thumbs up. The rest of the guys wore shocked expressions; of course, they couldn't say anything since we were all now gagged.

"Everything will look like you're seeing through a pair of lightly tinted glasses. The material also polarizes in bright sunlight, so there'll be no need to squint. Let's get the rest of you suited up."

* * *

The two men walked down the penitentiary corridor, and despite the orange overalls and manacles, there was no doubt which one was in charge.

"What the fuck am I doing up here, Jimmy? I should be downstairs getting ready for my transfer!" Oswaldo Batista glared at the prison guard as he shuffled along.

James Torres shook his head. "I dunno, Mr. Batista. These guys came in about an hour ago, went direct to the warden's office and next thing I know, I got told to bring you to one of the meeting rooms."

He stopped and pushed the guard against the wall. "Nothing better screw up my move to Florence, or all of you are fucking DEAD!" The guard shivered.

The two men reached the door and the corrections officer knocked before entering. Batista was surprised to see a single man in the large room; he was wearing a pale green shirt that was pulled over a powerfully muscular body and his black hair was short and styled in a sleek fadecut. Deep green eyes surveyed the prisoner and a dark eyebrow quirked as if he was listening to a private joke. A gold shield glittered on his belt. Without volition, the drug lord felt his package begin to twitch and grow.

"You can remove those restraints, Officer Torres."

"But Sir, the regs state that a prisoner in an unsecured area..."

"Take them off NOW and leave the room. I'll buzz when I need you." The man didn't raise his voice, but he stared hard at the corrections officer and Torres flinched as if struck. He quickly removed the leg irons and handcuffs and hurried out the door. Batista ambled over to a chair and flopped down. He looked at the man in green. There was something about him - and this whole situation - that set his teeth on edge. Despite being unnerved, his cock was now hard and straining against his briefs.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"His name is Captain Tanner Morgan, NYPD. In the light of recent developments, he's been asked to supervise your transfer."

Batista jumped at the voice behind him. There hadn't been anyone else in the room. He turned to see a nightmare creature leaning against the wall; a slick black skin covered a Promethean frame and massive arms were crossed over its chest. A snap-on pouch did little to disguise the impressive endowment at its crotch. Its head was slick and black as well and it had reddish lamps where eyes would have been and a sculpted grill in place of a mouth.

"That's RIG. He's an android. I'll wager he's killed more people in the seven months since he's been activated than you have in your entire career."

The android twisted its neck from side to side and the crime lord could almost imagine a feral grin on it's blank face.

Batista's head swiveled between the two. "W-what developments?" Any bravado he had had had been extinguished, but his cock was now throbbing with desire and he could feel drops of pre-cum leak out of his slit. Fuck... what's happening to me?

"Suborning the personnel in this facility for one..." Morgan strolled to one of the windows. "Bribing officers and DEA agents to effect your escape on your way to Florence ADX for another.."

"You're being transferred to Thornwood, instead. It's a private institution in Nevada where your chances of escape are nil. Florence is Club Fed compared to what you'll be experiencing there for the rest of your life. We're going to use decoys for the transport to Florence and see which guards and other personnel are in on your scheme. We've already arrested the warden."

Rage swept through Batista and before he could launch an attack against Morgan, he found himself in an armlock by RIG and slammed down onto the conference room table.

Tanner walked over to the prone figure and bent down and tsked as he removed a toothbrush shiv from Batista's left sleeve. "I'll ask once. Would you like to give me the names of the top echelon in your organization voluntarily? As well as the names of the personnel here you've bribed...???"

Batista spat in his face and cursed him in Spanish. Morgan wiped the spittle from his face and smiled. Batista's blood turned to ice as he saw the fangs in the other man's mouth.

"RIG, would you please initiate the non-destructive memory copy? Unfortunately, we have to make sure he arrives in good physical and mental health."

"You want a bite before we start, Sir?"

Morgan shook his head. "I already had a good drink with a coffee chaser, thanks. Can't have him show up with anemia, can we?"

With that, RIG  grabbed the orange fabric and tore it off the prisoner. He then unsnapped his pouch to expose his massive member, which grew larger and harder in a heartbeat. With a single thrust, all ten inches of the artificial cock buried itself in Batista's ass.

* * *
MICAH

After we all were locked in our suits, we spent some time feeling each other up. Doc looked on in approval as the bunch of us slipped black, silky hands over equally black, silky bodies; none of us knew who anyone else was, which made the experience even more erotic; I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that this was something we should do with the other guys at the Four-One as well.

Next came the oversuits, or "sub-suits" as Sid called them. These were (again) silky and shiny  - just regular black nylon this time - with two zippers running down from the collar to past the knees; once we put them on, we even looked more indistinguishable from each other than moments ago. Thin, black leather batting gloves came next; They were tight on our hands, but did nothing to impede the dexterity of the undersuits - the fingers on these outfits were tight - there were no visible seams and they didn't even crease when we bent our fingers.

Doc walked across the room and jiggled a device on the wall. After a moment, a bright red laser light speared straight across the vertical surface.

 "Okay guys, size eleven boots line up!"

We looked at each other and complied.

"Oswaldo Batista is six-one, six-two-and-a-half with a pair of workboots on. We're going to give you fellas boots - with lifts as needed - so you're also all the same height as well."

He moved to the first black-clad figure. "Right on the line... perfect!"

I was next. He took out a small ruler and measured the difference between the top of my head and the glowing red line. "One and a half..."

The third decoy got measured as well. He motioned to the three of us. "You guys move over there and stay in order." He motioned to the two remaining featureless decoys and measured them as well. The first one had a half-inch difference, and the last one was right on the mark, too.

A knock sounded on the door, and another soldier entered the room. He gave a low whistle and an appreciative grin at the five of us. He was pushing a cart with a number of boxes. He was in a black t-shirt and black fatigues.

"Here's the boots and restraints, Doc... damn, you guys look incredible!" He walked over to one of the size-eleven guys and ran a knuckle down the valley between his ebon pecs. "Reminds me of RIG ... only less likely to snap a rib..." With that, a black-clad hand slipped into his fatigues and massaged his crotch.

"Oh, shit...." The soldier closed his eyes in pleasure.

"Mmmmmm..." The decoy continued to knead the other man's substantial package.

A smile quirked the side of the doctor's kissable lips. "Care to help me get the lifts in and the boots on, Sean?"

"Happy to assist, Sir!"

* * *
CASH

The first thing we saw when we exited the wormhole was Batista bent over a table being raped by the black-skinned android and Cap drinking a cup of coffee. An orange prison uniform was lying in tatters on the floor. Doc had come with us, carrying the restraints in a duffle bag and the portal closed behind him. Cap raised raven eyebrows an nodded appreciatively. "Damn, Sid ... the decoys look amazing... even I can't tell who's who..."

Neither could we. Batista's eyes had been screwed shut in pain from RIG's jackhammering of his ass, but popped open in surprise when our CO started to talk.

"I thought you'd want to put the restraints on them yourself, Tanner." Sid dropped the bag onto a chair.

Tanner nodded. "Thanks."

At this point, RIG pulled out of Batista and slammed him into a chair. The drug lord struggled in the android's unbreakable grip, and RIG gave him a hard shake to quiet him down. The prisoner looked terrified as Cap walked up to him.

He gave him a feral smile. Then I noticed the fangs... did Cap really have fangs? Shit... they looked so fucking sexy on him... I had images running through my head of my CO thrusting his cock up my ass and biting my neck at the same time. My dick was hard and throbbing, but thanks to that cushioned pouch and the sub-suit, nothing showed. Then he looked straight at me - and winked. Shit...

"My last piece of advice, Oswaldo. The personnel at Thornwood are far less... how should I put this... 'picky about their food' ??... than I am... I suggest that you cooperate with them to the best of your abilities. And everyone there can tell when you're lying and if you do, they get very, VERY annoyed..."

Cap motioned to RIG. The android threw Batista over his shoulder and the two of them vanished. He turned to us. One of the fellas pointed to his mouth. "Glpghh mmm hmgghh, nnnn?"

He chuckled and pulled a dental veneer out of his mouth. "Batista has a deep phobia about vampires, so thanks to Tyler's guys, I had some fangs made and played it up to fuck with his head. The guards at Thornwood got some sets as well."

Doc unpacked the restraints from the bag. "Well, my work is done. You've got five masked Oswaldos to play with... Jeez, that sounds like a circus trapeze act..." He grinned. "We'll talk later, Tanner. All of the geotrackers are working fine and we're keeping an eagle eye on your guys until this is all over. Good luck, fellas!!"

Tanner gave the doctor a strong hug. Sid waved to us as he walked towards a corner of the room and vanished as well.

Cap then turned back to us and motioned us forward. "Put your hands out, men." Each of us got a pair of heavy-duty Clejuso hinged cuffs snapped on our wrists. "I'm locking these in front in case the guards want to add a belly chain." He then knelt down and fastened the heavy manacles of the leg irons around our boots.

"Make sure that the cuffs and irons aren't too tight or hitting you in the wrong spot. You're going to be in these for a least a day..."

We shuffled around the room. God, my cock was ready to explode. Ever since I had gotten Transformed, being cuffed or restrained was a huge turnon for me, but being like this increased the excitement by a hundredfold. We all came back to Cap for some minor adjustments.

"Everyone good?" We nodded. "Randolph? You're the designated drug lord."

The decoy next to me grunted and gave Captain Morgan a thumbs up. Shit... I thought that was Cash...

Cap hit the buzzer near the door. "Okay fellas ... showtime..."

* * * 

Torres unlocked the door and gaped in shock.

"Wha... what happened? Who are they?"

The corrections officer looked at the five featureless men cuffed and ironed before him. There was absolutely no way to distinguish between them - the tight black material across their faces hid any distinguishing features; all of them were dressed identically in loose nylon suits, with identical boots, and all of them were exactly the same height. One of them tried to step forward and grunted; he was yanked back by two of the other black-clad figures.

"One of them is Oswaldo Batista, and the other four are my officers."

"But how... the room was empty except for you when I brought the prisoner in!"

Morgan smiled and Torres felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees. He put an arm around the the officer's shoulders and guided him out of the conference room. He pulled the door shut behind him and the two walked down the corridor.

"My men are very talented... if they don't want you to see or hear them, you can't. Now, I'm sure that this is going to affect the plans you had for transporting Batista - you'll need some extra men for five prisoners instead of one."

Torres looked worried. 

"And your warning about the incipient jailbreak will not go unrecognized or unrewarded. In a very discreet way, of course. There's no way that can happen now since the people involved won't know who's who."

Torres stopped and now looked in abject terror at the police captain. Despite the threats to his family, he had risked everything to anonymously leak details about Batista's activities; he knew that there had been no leaks or his wife and children would have been killed. How did he know it was ME?

Morgan gave him a little push. "Now, let's get this show on the road. I want to try and keep to the original timetable as close as possible. You'll find that some out-of-state DEA vans will be pulling up in a few minutes to help with the transport. I've also arranged for a small plane from the ATF to help us out." He turned around. "I'll wait in the conference room for you."

* * *

"Here comes the last one, Sir" The guard handed the binoculars to Warden James Phelps.

The warden looked at the black van moving up the service road to the Supermax facility and cursed quietly under his breath. "Let's go out and meet them and find out what the fuck is going on!"

* * *

The vehicle stopped at the gate, and after a short delay, it was passed through and pulled up to the main building as Phelps and his chief corrections officer strode out. One man exited the van and assisted the shackled prisoner out. His pale green shirt and snug pants did nothing to hide the powerful physique beneath them; he wore a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and his sable hair gleamed in the Colorado sunshine. Phelps grimaced at the prisoner; this one was just like the others - a tall, muscled man, booted and gloved, handcuffed, with leg irons and sheathed in a tight, black undersuit that completely obliterated his identity. Another man exited the front of the van and stretched. His face was all sharp angles and his fine, thinning, blonde hair shifted in the stiff breeze.

"You Morgan?" The sable-haired captain nodded. He removed his sunglasses to display piercing, emerald green eyes. Phelps shivered involuntarily under the other man's gaze.

"I want to know what the FUCK is going on here! I've gotten four other of these ... 'prisoners' showing up within a couple of hours of each other - two of them turn out to be cops and two others are felons, but not the one I'm waiting for! All I get out of them is that you'll be explaining what's going on. Is THIS Oswaldo Batista or not?"

Morgan gave him a basilisk stare. "See for yourself."

Phelps muttered and motioned his chief over to the prisoner. The officer proceeded to unshackle the anonymous captive and snip off the security lock at the back of his neck that prevented the undersuit from being removed. Gloved hands reached back and opened the zippers and pulled down the hood to display a young, dark-haired, brown-eyed man with duct tape over his mouth. He fiddled with the black tape, wincing as he removed it and then pulled what looked like taffy out of his mouth. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile within his tightly cut beard. "Hello, Sirs."

Morgan smiled back. "Say hello to Officer Micah Benchley of the NYPD."

"GOD-DAMNIT!!"

The other man cleared his throat. "I think I can clear this situa-"

"And who the fuck are you?"

The other man's face hardened and pulled a small wallet out of his breast pocket. His flipped it open and pushed it into the warden's face.

"Peter Gardner - Federal Bureau of Investigation - Director of Operations, West Coast ... that's WHO the fuck I am..." Phelps paled.

Morgan cleared his throat. "Warden, is there someplace we can speak privately about this situation?"

"Yeah, yeah... sure. Let's go to my office." The three men moved off.

The chief turned to the black-clad police officer. "C'mon, son ... your buddies are in the cafeteria."

* * *
MICAH

The guard escorting me was an older guy named Henry and we soon struck up a conversation as we walked along.

"Damn... I've seen inmates here that would curdle your blood, Micah, but Morgan scares the absolute shit out of me. He doesn't seem to be the type you ever want to cross."

I smiled. "He's strict, but he's fair. He treats all of us like we're his own flesh and blood. We wouldn't have any other CO but him." 

He shook his head. "Jeez, you guys are built..." He chuckled. "You all look like fitness models ... or porn stars. Most of the cops I know aren't in the best of shape ... even the SWAT guys have dad bodies compared to you."

I laughed. "Well, Cap expects a lot from us, and we don't want to disappoint him. That includes filling out the uniform the right way. We do several charity calendars a year for the Silver Shield Foundation. For those, most of the times we're at least half-naked, soaking wet, oiled up or some combination of the three..."

Henry's eyes bulged in amazement.

I laughed. "Hey, it brings in the money for those kids that lost their father or the wives without their husbands. It's something we can do to help them after what they've been through and we're happy to do it." 

"Wow..." There was a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. 

We entered the mostly empty cafeteria - the only people there were the several guards from Nogales, and the other guys from the Four-One together with the DEA agents. Donte saw me first and waved the both of us over. The other group glared daggers at me.

"What I don't get is those other two guys - they're ex-cons and they have records longer than your arm..."

"Donte and Isiah are definitely on the wrong side of law, but we can trust them. If you can, we'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that factoid about their records around the facility, okay? As far as anyone at Nogales thought, everyone was one of Cap's men. It took a lot for them to voluntarily walk into a prison and get shackled, not knowing if they'd be incarcerated or not, but Cap is very persuasive too. " And it was incredible to see that Zack's conditioning and artificial memories along with his mastery of computer forgery was perfect as well under real world situations outside of New York. Good to know the next time Cash and I get Transformed and want to take a road trip.

* * * 

Batista groaned as consciousness returned to the drug lord like a reluctant lover. Bleary-eyed, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around; he was in a sleek, bare prison cell. Naked except for an adult-sized diaper, he ached all over - a small pile of clothes were on a low shelf across from his bunk. The last thing he remembered were the five black figures appearing from nowhere as the ebon-clad monster android had him bent over the table and was fucking him to death. And the cop... with the fangs... 

He jumped up and looked out through the bars, his heart pounding in his chest and his guts cramping from the sexual assault. At that moment, he heard a CLANK from the end of the hallway as a black-uniformed guard walked towards him.

The guard was a trim and well-built young man, with stylishly cut brown hair and a razor-cut stubble on his face. A nylon assault vest fit snugly around his torso and a duty belt with a baton rode low over his hips. He gave the prisoner a faint smile.

"Hey, I'm sorry about your neck - you were bleeding pretty badly when you were brought in and I couldn't help myself. I put the diaper on so the rest of the guys wouldn't get unhinged. I already let the warden know it was me. My name is Henry, by the way."

"Huh?"

The guard pointed to Batista's neck. He felt it, and glanced over to the wall mirror to see a set of puncture wounds.

The guard grinned, showing fangs. "We were short two guards today, I had my hands full and I hadn't had a chance to Feed this morning..."

Batista's screams echoed down the corridor as the guard unlocked the cell door and pushed him against the wall.

* * *
I would have been done with this story about a month earlier, but I ran into my "into the weeds" situation. At the very end, I wanted to have a conversation between Morgan, Phelps and Gardner about the situation the warden found himself in, but I finally came to the realization that it did nothing to add to the story. I did need to have something go on for Batista, but that was much easier once I knew that he was terrified of vampires and Thornwood Penitentiary is accessible for the soldieri-in-training at the nearby Institute.

As for the inspiration for the story itself, it came from this video on YouTube; I'm not sure how I found it, but it was quite intriguing from both a scenario and a costuming point of view.

 
 
From the YouTube authors, I'm guessing that they live somewhere in Wirral, which is a county in the North-West of Great Britain.

We see an individual - deservedly or not - supposedly trapped in a zentai suit making him a non-entity, placed into another suit which further anonymizes his shape, gloved and then cuffed hand and foot. What happens next is completely up to the watcher's imagination.

While I had the most of the pieces, that outer suit (called a sub suit) was a real pain in the neck to find - mainly because "sub suit" had a completely different meaning for me (and yes, my mind WAS in the gutter!).

Of course, it's made only in the UK.

It's used in rugby to keep the players warm while they are not on the field, "sub" being short for "substitute".

Anyway, I found the suit (for an amazingly good price including shipping) at UKSportsWarehouse on eBay.

I did change up the concept slightly, using boots instead of sneakers, but I may do another shoot with a pair of black Nike Shox I found on eBay as well.

All in all, a nice change from my regular shoots - hope you enjoy!