Blurpees Before Lights Out

The scrawny, balding man with a pointy nose and large ears cleared his throat. He was seated up on the dais wearing his black robe. He spoke in a low tone. "Will the jury foreperson please stand," he half asked, half instructed.

A bronze-skinned woman wearing too many bangles and a lot of bright purple hair weave stood.

The judge inquired, "Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?"

She puffed out her already voluminous chest and said, "We have, Your Honor!"

Frankie Kimble rolled his eyes. He'd seen this heifer ogling the bailiff the whole trial.

The clerk, a woman of just over fifty and well-dressed, went over to the jury box, Her short pixie cut was both professional and saucy. The light-brown lady collected the verdict from her fellow Black woman and smiled gently. She delivered the paper to the Honorable Judge Marc O. Dorfmann of the Santa Maria Teresa County Superior Court.

Judge Dorfmann looked at it blankly and handed it back to his clerk.

The woman walked over to her desk and began, "The jury finds the defendant, Francis Kimble, guilty."

Fuck, Frankie thought.

------------------------------

That was where it all started. A week later the old fart of a judge had sentenced the thirty-three year old Frankie to three years in state prison for extortion. The five-foot-seven, former accounting clerk had been threatening to tell his boss' wife about their affair in exchanges for pay increases, gifts, and trips.

Finally, the shifty Italian dude caught his young third wife fucking the neighborhood rent-a-cop so he no longer cared to be found out. He divorced the gold digger. And, went to the D.A. on his effeminate, slim, deep-brown complexioned employee.

Consequently, Tony Ferro was out driving around in sunny Santa Maria Teresa County, California in his sleek silver 2008 Porsche 911 convertible chasing more tail and Francis Kimble was waiting to be processed in the state penitentiary.

Frankie cursed the slimy bastard. But, he had to admit. He'd pushed his luck just a bit too much. The seven-and-a-half-inch dick was good in his boipussy and the gifts had been right. He should've stuck with a good thing. Oh well. Here he was now.

A woman C.O. was processing him in. She smacked gum and had stringy blonde hair. No doubt she was still getting fucked by the losers in this joint he imagined. She assisted him without so much as a smile. "Follow me," she said.

Frankie walked behind her. He was already being catcalled.

"Fresh meat!"

"Hey, baby!"

"Straight fish!"

"Sit on my lap!"

"Ooh wee!"

"Looks like you got quite the fan club," the bitch snarled.

"Whatever," huffed Frankie.

"Here you are," she offered. "Your cell mates are probably on the yard on something. That bottom bunk is free."

"Uh okay!"

"Chow is at 4:30.," she hissed, disappearing.

Frankie took in his surroundings. There were cutouts of the Mexican flag all over the cell. He wondered if the new "roommates" would have an issue with him being Black. He was making his bunk when three beefy dudes with varying shades of light olive brown skin appeared.

"Yo, wassup," the first one spoke.

"Um. Hi. I-I'm Francis. Uh. Frankie," he replied.

"Sup. Andres," he replied, standing a few inches taller, but much thicker and heavier.

"Nice to meet you," Frankie admired the goatee and allover tatts this dude had. He knew this motherfucked could benchpress him easily not to mention totally pummel his petite ass. "Wh-Who are your friends?"

"Francis you said," checked Andres.

"Yeah!"

"Shit, motherfucker! It's 'yes, sir' or 'si, papi', punk!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good," Andres continued. "This is Liam and this is Jesus," he explained, pointing each out.

Liam was about the same height as Andres, but not as bulky or wide. He had a bit of a gut, but nice looking pecs. Plus he sported a shaved head like the leader , but had a fully scraggly, unkempt beard. "Sup," he managed.

"Hi," Liam responded to the droopy eyed goon. "Hi, Jesus!"

Jesus had the most Native looking face of all three, but his skin matched their pale brownness. Unlike his compatriots, he still sported a full head of extremely dark hair. He was leaner than the other two and taller by a couple of inches. His haughty, manly chest flexed as if by accident. "Yeah," returned the guy who was clearly the low man on the totem pole.

"That's 'Li'l Homie'," explained Andres. "He's in for fifteen to life. Second degree murder. FIrst trip."

"Uh. Oh. Uh. That's cool," stammered Frankie.

All three laughed.

Liam offered, "What about you?"

"W-well. I'm in for extortion," Frankie tried to deepen his voice. "I was blackmailing a sonofabitch."

"How long they got you for," Andres asked.

"Th-three years."

"That ain't shit. I got twenty-five to life. Just like my man, Liam, over here."

Liam grinned. "We ain't going nowhere," he chucked.

"S-sorry to hear," the newbie shared nervously.

"It's straight," Andres said. "It's almost chow. Come with us. We're gonna show everybody our new sissy maid."

"Wh-what?"

RIght then Liam pulled out his dick and started pissing on the floor.

Frankie was appalled. Her eyes stood wide open.

"See what you made him do, sissy," Andres checked.

"B-But I..," started Frankie.

"Clean that shit up now," Andres bowed up at Frankie.

Jesus took pity and threw over a towel. Frankie got on his hands and knees and began wiping it up. His impish body shaking the entire time.

"That's a good bitch, bitch," Liam remarked.

"Uh. Was it Francis," Andres wondered.

"Y-yeah."

"Nah, bitch. It's Francesca now!"

"Yeah, Francesca," smirked Jesus.

"Damn right," added Liam as he high fived the other underling.

"Oh okay," Frankie agreed.

The three amigos marched the newcomer around the prison letting everyone know that "she" was their property. Just by visuals alone, this place looked to fifty percent Latino. Probably mostly Mexican. Thirty percent Black. Fifteen percent White and five percent who the fuck knew. Not that it mattered. It was what it was.

Andres introduced Francesca to a group of girly inmates and said, "Fix her up by chow!"

Frankie's cell mates left.

The femboys went to work dolling up their recent sorority sister. By the end of the process Francesca's uniform had been modified into a tie-front midriff top, a pair of Daisy Dukes, and a headband to sissify his closely cropped wavy haircut.

"Eres toda una chica ahora," the amateur beautician beamed.

"Gracias," replied Francesca, noting her rudimentary understanding of Spanish and that the punk had explained she was 'all girl now'.

The sissies marched into the cafeteria. They collected their trays and went to sit with the various prison hubbies, daddies, pimps, and boyfriends.

Francesca sat in between Andres and Liam. She was squeezed in uncomfortably. Their massive bodies gave her virtually no room. Jesus sat across from them. She looked at her tray with a forlorn gaze.

"What's the matter, Francesca," asked Jesus with a genuine tone.

"N-nothing," she lied and cast her head downward.

"Better not be," Andres said. "You better eat up, bitch!"

"Wh-what is it," she wondered aloud.

Liam clarified, "That's a tamale. Some rice. Tortillas. Salad. Eat up, yo. You won't get no more."

"Unless this bitch got money on her books," Andres perked up.

"N-no," Francesca exhaled. She may have never been in prison before, but her time in county jail taught her not to advertise the fact that she had a few dollars on her account.

As she ate, Andres told her that after mealtime she would need to straighten up the cell while they worked out..

"B-but I didn't mess it up," she protested.

"We are gonna have to whoop your ass," Liam interjected.

"Nobody cares, Francesca," added Andres. "You're our bitch."

Jesus only nodded.

Francesca resigned herself to what was happening to her. It could've been worse. None of these three Mexican were ugly. They all had nice bodies. And she did love good cock. There could be worse ways to be in prison, she figured.

They all went back to the cell. Francesca went about straightening up things. She arranged things as best she could while trying to spy all the information possible. She quickly determined their last names while they began exercising right there in front of her. All shirtless. All with big brutish chests.

"You better not bump into us either," warned Andres.

"Yeah," sneered Liam.

"Si, papi," she began to play along.

Jesus just raised his eyebrows at her. He was the one Francesca wanted the most. And she feared they all knew that. She would not let them use it against her. Quickly she learned their last names.

Andres Herrera. Jesus Bernal. Liam Mendez.

She repeated this over and over until it was committed to memory. It was tough to do given that she had to clean and avoid getting in the way of whatever reach up, jump down to a plank and then jump back up shit these fools were doing. She completed her tasks and navigated carefully back to her bunk. She was mesmerized by this particular exercise. They were on repetition fifty-four of one hundred.

Each man looked like a work of art.

Liam glanced to the side. He huffed, "Sissy likes what she sees!"

"Let's give her something to really look at, hombres," instructed Andres.

Jesus chuckled.

Fancesca closed her eyes. She kept repeating their names. It would come in handy for later. She opened them to see all that beef right there in front of her. Damn she wanted to get fuck. She knew they could smell it on her. It was already widely known around the joint that she'd tried to get money from a guido to keep it secret that he liked boipussy on the side. So everyone knew she was game. The guards were such assholes. Oh well.

"We're finished now, Francesca," announced Andres. "We just have to do our burpees before lights out."

"Burpees?"

"Yeah! It shreds us up. It's why we got these bodies you've been lusting after."

"I-I wasn't!"

"That sissy cock says otherwise," Liam jumped in.

"Ahhhh shit! She do got a little boner!" Andres went ham running around the cell. "Yo, shut them light out now, pigs!"

A few minutes later it really was time for all the inmates to lie down. The headcount was completed. Lights were dimmed. Cell doors securely locked.

The dudes in Frankie's cell were not about to go to sleep. They were all buck naked now. Eye fucking their new prize.

Francesca had her back to them. She was facing the wall.

"Hey," Andres whispered loudly. "Come suck these Mexican dicks!"

She rolled over and her mouth fell open. She gasped. They were all stroking their meat. The droopy-eyed one had to have at least eight inches. The youngest was packing no less than seven-and-three-quarter thick ones. The band leader was a tad over seven-and-one-half. So much manliness. Plus the musk. Francesca rose in awe.

"Suck 'em," Liam ordered.

"B-But I..."

"Nobody is asking," blared Andres.

"I want to," sobbed Francesca. "I will, but I need...I need."

"Need what, faggit," barked Liam.

"To call my mom. I don't have a phone card."

"You suck these cocks right and we got you," Andres reassured her.

Francesca nodded.

"Come on, slut," Andres beckoned.

Francesca got out of bed. She took Liam and Jesus in her hands and jerked them off while she sucked Andres. She alternated sucking each of them for a while as they spanked her and degraded her. Their brawny, Herculean bodies dwarfing her own waifish, sissy one.

"Oh shit," Andres groaned.

"Suck it," Liam demanded.

"Fuck," Jesus breathed like smooth brandy.

"I got first," yelled Andres with his massive being. He grabbed up Francesca and stood her against the wall. "You bastards can jerk while I fuck her."

"Oh my god," wailed Francesca.

"Take this big Mexican cock, hoe!"

"Si, papi!"

"Damn, bitch!"

"Fuck me!"

Andres slammed all of his mightiness into her. Francesca was little more than a rag doll.

"I love it," she whined.

"Shit yeah! I'm about to nut. Get on your knees, slut."

Francesca swallowed every bit of cum. She was now on all fours as Andres dictated what happened. He told Liam to get on the rear end and Jesus to fuck her throat. They did.

"Mmhmm," moaned Francesca.

"Yeah, bitch! This sissy pussy is good," hollered Liam.

"Mmmm," cried Francesca.

"Damn," Jesus bellowed. "Suck it!"

It was so uncharacteristic of Jesus that Francesca started working harder. She threw her ass more. She sucked more vigorously.

"I'm about to cum," barked Liam.

"Don't cum in that ass," howled Andres. "Skeet on her back!"

"What?"

"Do what the fuck I said!"

"Arrrrgggggghhhhhhh," Liam groaned after pulling out.

"Now! Get back there Li'l Homie!"

Jesus assumed the position. His rod penetrated the now open hole, but it still gripped his girth. "Shit, bitch," he mouthed.

"Fuck me," begged Francesca.

She gave him all of her.

He was loving. He smacked her ass. "Fine ass bitch!"

"It's all yours, papi," she told him.

"Better be!"

This was more vocal than she'd heard him the entire time. Francesca savored him because he was her secret favorite.

"Do you like his dick," inquired Andres.

"Si, papi!"

"Well! Pull it out now, Jesus. Let her suck you off then we go to bed."

Bastard.

Jesus was pissed, but did not show it. Francesca pouted.

"We gotta get up early and you need that phone card, right?"

She nodded in agreement.

Morning came. Lights flashed. Guards yelled. They showered. The three amigos cornered Francesca and played with her. She giggled the whole time.

They went in for a breakfast of grits, wheat bread, and a boiled egg. Plus something that was supposed to be fresh fruit. Gross.

After eating, she was given a phone card.

Francesca went to the bank of phones and punched in the code and dialed the number for her mother.

"Hello," the soothing voice answered.

"Mama! I need you to send me one hundred dollars," Francesca pleaded.

"Are you okay, baby," the matronly voice asked.

"Please send me one hundred dollars."

"That's a lot, baby. I'll try."

"Please, mama. I really need one hundred dollars."

"Okay, baby. I'll see what I can do."

Francesca placed the receiver back down.

Some nine-and-a-half miles from downtown D.C., people began to cheer. The section leader announced, "Hampton is live again!" Men in cheap, starch white shirts and women wearing JCPenney suits fist pumped. It was a time for celebration

"Thank god," sighed Rita Kinnard as she turned away from the crowd of seventeen. She had recruited Hampton so many years ago. She had full faith in her operative that had been pulled from the Middle East three years ago to now focus on the drug cartel money flowing from Central and South America to the Saudis that funded global mayhem. She had gone rogue with her Dorado Team. But the issue was that Dr. Kinnard was now the Deputy Director of Operations at the Central Intelligence Agency. This little multi-million line item was classified and off the books. She had full faith in the Dorado team,

Hampton also known as Francesca also known as Francis Kimble also known as Tyrone King also known as Kelvin Watson now had eyes on a very close associate of the Honduran bastard running drug game out of Mexico called "El Jodete" - Manny Ibarra via an inmate named Carlos Aguirre.

If only the F.B.I. knew. They'd have her head on the stake. The middle aged Black woman did not give a shit. Hampton was back after three years undercover in these United States.