Family Disrupted Pt. 03

"Oh no."

"Yes, it was pretty pathetic. I looked at our two white sons, all beaten up and weak, and I realized immediately what I had to do. The oldest, he's such a faggot--they'd gut him in seconds if he went to Puloga. So we have to the send the second."

"I see."

"As for the faggot, I figure that the basketball team is depositing so much--I mean, feeding him so much into his stomach, do I even need to pay for food?"

Samantha had so quickly risen to the occasion, making the tough decisions a mother in her position needed to do. Still, it was all so sad.

Samantha stood up and gathered her purse to leave. I was confused.

"You're not staying to see Carter?"

She frowned and blew hair out of her face.

"No, unfortunately. Yesterday was a disaster!"

Intrigued, I asked what happened.

"Carter asked me why I met him in the visiting room instead of the conjugal trailer. I thought he was just flirting like usual, but he was seriously angry. I said that it was a one time thing, I didn't want to suck or fuck his big black cock again. He got so mad, spitting on the glass saying that he expected me to drain his balls!"

She held her hand to her chest, as if that were a ridiculous idea.

"He said he needs his balls drained regularly, and if he doesn't get it, he turns into an angry violent beast."

Samantha laughed, but I sank into my seat.

"I told him: if he wants to cum so bad, why doesn't he just jerk off like the rest of you inmates?"

I was shocked that Samantha had the balls to be so courageous against Carter Smith.

"So I say good riddance. I may never see Carter again, or his big freaky donkey dick. Let that be someone else's problem."

As Samantha huffed and walked away, I worried that it might become my problem...

--

After Samantha's second visit to the prison, I was sent into general population, with the other inmates. It was their first time seeing me as one of them. Of course, they all recognized me immediately. I was the schlub whose wife got her big titties fucked by Carter Smith.

Speaking of whom, it seemed like I was the only one that knew Carter's secret: that my wife had dumped him! Everyone else was still hyping Carter up, congratulating him on finding a hottie like my wife to continue draining his balls.

I figured this secret might be enough to protect me. I was wrong. When walking in an isolated corridor one day, Carter appeared and slammed me against the wall.

"You fucking loser," he said to me, "Your wife... That bitch... How dare she treat me like this..."

"Carter..." I choked, for his arms was crushing my windpipe.

"I'm going to make sure you pay," he said.

I struggled, and he let me go right as I started to lose consciousness. The warm feeling of hot piss hitting my face was the last thing I remembered.

I woke up in the infirmary a day later. The nurse said I had an eye infection, from unidentified urine seeping into my bloodstream.

"You drinking toilet water?" the nurse said, "Or, are you a fag?"

It took a day to recover, after which I avoided Carter like the plague.

In the next few days, Samantha did not come to see me. I was wracked with depression and guilt and, strangely, an intense lust for my wife. Maybe it was the fact that in prison, all I had were my memories of her. Or maybe it was just that I could still, in a sense, smell her wet juices on the prison floor where she had oozed excitement during all her trips here. Whatever the case, I was constantly masturbating in my cell, imagining my wife's perfect lips sucking my cock.

She finally arrived a week later. Something about her was different: her hair was styled upwards, more casually. And her clothes were none of the expensive designer wears she usually had. Instead, they looked like cheap slutty tops you would find in a strip mall. Still, it was tantalizing to see her breasts stuffed into such a revealing top, even though I had been ejaculating upwards of four times a day in here.

"Sweetheart," she said, curtly, "Some updates. First, our youngest son has landed safely in Puloga."

"Good."

"But there's another Puloga update. Remember how Carl and Alexa's sons were sent there a month ago?"

"Yeah."

"It seems like they didn't make it."

"Huh?"

"Yes, reports are that in the middle of their training, before they even made it to combat, they were taken out by some sharp shooters... The reports are saying it might have been friendly fire, you see."

"Friendly fire?"

"They were outcasts... the only white boys in the camp, and such pudgy disgusting little boys at that. I assume the squad just realized they would be better without them. Much like Alexa and Tyson determined."

"How are Alexa and Tyson holding up?"

"Oh, amazing. They're ecstatic. The military there is paying for them to come out to Puloga for a week, and apparency Tyson has family there he's wanted to visit, to organize something called a 'blowbang' for Alexa."

"Isn't Alexa sad about her sons?"

"Not at all. I mean, I wouldn't be. Those boys were disgusting! They're better off as worm food in Puloga than in a private school here."

So much had changed about Samantha's attitude in the last few weeks.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Maybe I'm just in a 'I hate kids' mood. Our son, our remaining son, is really getting on my nerves."

"What happened?"

"It was my understanding that our son was a faggot," Samantha said, "Given all he's doing to support the basketball team. But lately, he's been really creeping me out at home."

"Oh?"

"He's just staring at me a lot. At my breasts, at my hips, at my ass. I even catch him drooling at my cleavage on the couch."

"Sweetheart!" I said, alarmed, "Are you... are you dressing like you're dressed now in front of him?"

"Not all the time," Samantha said with edge, "Sometimes, I'm naked."

"Well there you go. He's a growing boy. Of course, he's going to be curious about the female form, especially around breasts like yours--"

"I hate it," she said, "I'd rather put a bullet in my brain than touch his shrimpy little dick. Or let him touch his prick while he's watching me masturbate. It's disgusting."

I could tell that Samantha was upset, and there was little I could do to protest. But something about what she said struck me as odd.

"Honey... is he watching you masturbate?

"I mean, yeah," she said, "It's kind of hard to hide it. The shithole we moved into when we lost our money is only one tiny room. So his little dog bed on the floor faces mine. And I'm just... so... horny, all the time! I have to put five fingers in my cunt practically every hour I'm home."

"And he just... sits there watching?"

"I know. Disgusting, right? The little freak."

I didn't know what to say. Samantha talking about how horny she was... it reminded me of Carter!

"Anyway," Samantha said, putting a stick of gum in her mouth, "I earned a little extra money this week at my burger flipping job. I think my manager has a crush on me or something. So I put some cash into your account."

"Oh. Thank you, Samantha, thank you!"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Maybe spend it on some tissues this time?"

"Huh?"

She put two fingers on her bangs, indicating I should touch my forehead. Indeed, I found a patch of my own dried semen.

I glowed red with shame.

"Relax," she said, chewing the gum, "Like I said, I'm a freaky little masturbator now too." And with that my beautiful jiggling wife left.

--

Unlike my wife, who as a volunteer had visited the prison every day, Trish did not come in a regular pattern. My children's former principal, a nasty little slut who I knew was a former lover of Carter and current erratic volunteer here, showed up on whatever days she chose.

The first time she saw me, she laughed her ass off at seeing me in the prisoner's orange jump suit.

"So you've gone from loser cuck to prison bitch," she said, "And I noticed your boys seemed to fall out of enrollment... Did someone finally kick them to the curb where they belong?"

Trish's teasing cruelty bothered me, but one incident almost lifted my spirits.

I was walking in a remote part of the prison where I came across a secretive scene. It was Carter, wearing the kind of handcuffs that were tied to his waist and ankles, leaning up against the wall and kissing the deep sexy lips of volunteer Trish.

Trish, whose sexy body was always fit and an object of my attention, looked to be dripping with sweat over the fine exposed flesh of her skimpy workout clothes. The woman was also clearly dripping wet with desire, even though all she was doing was making out.

"I need to get my cock in you," Carter said.

"Mmmm, just kiss me more," she begged.

"Now!"

Carter went with his limited mobility into his trousers, beginning to fish out the massive hog that had pounded my wife.

But Trish was in control. She kicked Carter forward, and in his tied up state, he couldn't react.

"I don't have a death wish, asshole," she said, "And I know fucking you comes with a risk of getting snuffed."

"Please baby, I'll be gentle. I just need to drain my nut in you."

"Yeah right. You'd choke me out so fast, I wouldn't even get to cum."

"That's not true," he sneered, "I'd let you cum once before I crushed your fucking skull."

Trish laughed, in full control of the situation. I, stupidly, also let out a laugh, alerting Carter and Trish that I was there.

"Oh look, it's the beta cuck," Trish said, rushing towards me. I was too slow; she tackled me to the ground too.

"Were you watching my hot blue balled boyfriend make out with me?" she said, "Were you gonna go jerk off to it later in your cell?"

"N-n-no," I stuttered, though I desperately did want to masturbate to the scene.

"How about this?" she said, and pulled a spray bottle from her pocket. She stretched out my hands and sprayed them with it. They began to burn intensely.

"That shit lasts a few months," she said, "Even if you try to wash it off. I doubt you'll be enjoying the company of your hands any time soon."

No! Now, I was not even able to pass the time masturbating.

"Have fun in agony," Trish said, laughing as she went back towards Carter, with half his cock still poking out of his pants, and gave him a big kiss on the lips.

She left us both out there on the floor, and unfortunately for me, Carter got up first.

"If I don't cum soon," he said, laying over me threateningly, "I'm gonna burst out of this place. Find your wife. Tie her down. And stuff every inch of her cunt with my cock. I don't care if they shoot me. I'm going to make it my last vision on Earth to see your wife, in orgasm, crying out to give her more dick."

For good measure, Carter spit on me, kicked me in the ribs, and rolled me out of the hallway and into the yard.

"Listen up!" he shouted to the rest of the prison. "I want everyone in this yard to know that this man here, this loser, this complete waste of human space, deserves nothing more than the worst of it."

Everyone nodded at Carter's leadership.

"So what I'm saying," he said, "Is make sure he gets his meals with an extra serving. You hear?"

I gulped. I had been in prison long enough to know this slang. It meant that everyone would be jockeying to shoot a fat load into every single one of my meals. I'd be eating cum for the rest of my days here.

"You got that?" Carter said, giving me an ugly glare. Everyone else cheered.

--

In all my time since being arrested, I wondered when I would get a trial. A worker at the prison told me it could happen any minute, but the days kept going by and I was getting nothing.

Also strangely, I noticed that my friend Carl was nowhere to be seen. One of the lunch men, while I watched him fire a big salty load of cum onto my plate, told me that Carl was transferred.

"They caught me in an ugly position," the sweaty, hairy man said as he stroked off over my plate.

"What do you mean?"

"They don't take kindly to faggots here. The administration, that is. This is a Red State prison, mind you."

"You mean anal sex?"

"No no," the man said, dripping saliva and precum onto my food, "Anal sex is fine. A man wants to get his rocks off in a fleshy tight hole, that's his right. But to let another man penetrate you and fill you with their juice? Unacceptable."

"I see."

"If they catch that, it's not a good outcome," the man said. I watched his head and neck roll back as he fired a load finally onto the plate. The white gunk coated everything. "They'll send you overseas. They'll do some really sick shit to you."

"Understood," I said, scared, hand outstretched to take my plate. Instead, another cafeteria worker took my plate, lowered it below his trousers, and began to stroke his own cock onto it.

"The kind of shit that's happening to him... he wishes he were dead," they said.

When the second man finished, creaming over all my food with his load, I nodded, trying to block the images from my mind.

--

Samantha hadn't come to visit me in weeks when the feds came back to my cell and told me it was time for my trial. I met my lawyer in the courtroom, and I was so wracked with hornyness that I didn't even listen to her name. I just stared at the mounds of delicious flesh peeking out of her tight white blouse.

The entire trial, I was a drooling mess, obsessed with breasts, unable to defend myself. I was later, after the trial, diagnosed with malnutrition-induced psychosis, but the chance of a retrial was denied to me. I was given three consecutive life-sentences for my tax avoidance, a ridiculous stretch of punishment that the judge said was to "make an example out of the white hot shots who think they can get away with things." Delusional, I reached forward and got two good squeezes of my lawyer's breasts. It was heavenly, even as she slapped me in the face and the bailiff had to come escort me out of the court room.

The next day, in the infirmary again, all the nurses giggled about it.

"He's like a baby. Breasts this, breasts that!"

"He couldn't even defend himself at trial."

"He's seriously going to rot and die in here, all because of some titties!"

"No!" I yelled, realizing what had happened, "I... I'm not alone."

"Oh, is he saying something?"

"My wife!" I shouted, imagining Samantha's face, her fine body, her soft touch. After all we had been through, she still loved me! She told me as much. She said she would stick with me even through tough times like this.

Besides, there was the conjugal trailer. Now that I was convicted, I had the ability to use it for visits. Soon, Samantha and I would be reunited in sweet carnal connection. I would fuck her brains out, just like Carter Smith did in that room, and I would it every single week for the rest of my sad sentence in here.

"All is not lost!" I shouted, though the nurses thought I sounded like a lunatic, and sedated me even further. It was two days later when I woke up, back in my cell, feeling a new sense of hope for the future, something that I cherished and tasted like a sweet familiar meal.

--

Samantha appeared suddenly, without warning one day. She was wearing a red dress with inch-thick straps that gave her breasts both support and gorgeous accentuation. After weeks of not masturbating, I was on the edge of my seat seeing her there.

"Sweetheart," she said, giving me a slight disingenuous smile, "I have some bad news and some good news."

Bad news? I didn't know what else I could handle. I was dying in here. I begged her: please, don't worry about the news. Take me the trailer and ride my dick, please!

"Please, don't be silly," she said.

"I'm not joking, please!"

"Stop with the foolery, I'm trying to be serious."

Her harsh tone shut me down. If she stormed out angrily, I'd be destroyed.

"Now, I believe I mentioned to you that Tyson and Alexa went to Puloga on a trip to visit Tyson's family."

"Okay."

"And of course, that I sold--I mean, sent our youngest son to Puloga recently as well."

"Yes."

"Well, Tyson and Alexa returned a few days ago, tanned and excited, with some news."

Samantha removed her sunglasses, giving me a look into her beautiful eyes for the first time.

"It looks like Tyson and Alexa were with our son in a village in Pulosa when there was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Yes, an accident. Tyson and Alexa were preparing a dish, a kind of soup made of pumpkins. And Tyson was crushing pumpkins with a sledgehammer. And it seems like our boy must have gotten in the way somehow because Tyson swung down the sledgehammer and--"

*crunch*. Samantha made a motion with her fist slamming into an open palm.

"Jesus."

"Yes, it's a shame. To think of all that money Puloga paid me to send him out there, and it just went to waste because he ended up disposed of so senselessly."

"Tyson and Alexa... what did they do afterward?"

"What do you mean?"

"After the accident... did they contact the authorities?"

Samantha laughed.

"Honey, it's Puloga. There are no social services there. They just rolled him into the corner and continued their vacation. Cooked the soup, made love, went about their business."

The image of the boy crumpled in the corner of the room while Tyson fucked Alexa made me queasy.

"I assume they just came and took him away with the trash."

"Wow... That's unreal."

"Indeed."

We sat in silence for a moment. I was ashamed to say that my lust for Samantha endured: I could have ripped her dress off and suckled at her breasts no matter what she told me.

"Anyway," she said, "No more youngest son. That was the bad news. I also have some good news."

With that, Samantha stood up, sunglasses off, and smiled.

"I've confirmed it with the doctor. I'm expecting."

My jaw dropped. My Samantha... expecting?! What an amazing miracle.

I remembered back to what felt like a lifetime ago. Samantha and I, humping deliciously in the house. I had ejaculated inside of her and created life!

"Obviously," Samantha said, "The baby's father is evident."

"Yes," I said, "Me."

Samantha raised an eyebrow at me, smiling.

"Oh sweetheart. That's funny of you to say. But of course, the baby is Carter's."

Carter's? No. It wasn't possible.

"You only came in me that one teensy time," Samantha said, "And I recall, you ate every drop of semen out of me."

"But--"

"I also took Plan B," she said, "To make sure I never got pregnant with your baby again. I promise you--the father is Carter."

The image of that day returned. Samantha, being suspended in the air as Carter's hips buckled into her, filling her uterus with his seed and locking it in with his fat cock head.

"It looks like," she said, holding her stomach, "I'm going to have my first black baby." She giggled with excitement.

I doubled back in my seat. The love of my life, my darling in matrimony Samantha was pregnant with a black convict's baby. And I had to raise it from inside prison.

"Now, I recognize that the boy needs to have a father," Samantha said, "And not just genetically: he needs a man in his life, to raise him. I look at our other boys and think, something was off with them. One got crushed like a pumpkin, the other is a fag crawling around the city... This one needs to be raised right."

I gulped. Where was she going with this?

"Luckily," she said, "There are measures we can take. Forms and exceptions with the penal system. I filed them this morning. There is such a thing as: compassionate relief from prison. This means that no matter how long the sentence, there's a chance it can all go away."

All go away... the chance to return to my Samantha! I was giddy with joy. The idea of raising a black man's baby was an easy price to pay.

"Oh goodness, thank you Samantha!"

She looked at me confused.

"Sweetheart, the release wouldn't be for you. It'd be for Carter."