Retaliation - Chapter 09 (Patreon)

[IMPORTANT: To stay aligned with the Patreon’s guidelines, I had to remove the Cure’s trilogy from my Patreon.

This was, as you can imagine, a very difficult decision to make and I am trying my very best to comply with Patreon’s guidelines all the while finishing this ongoing story.

Since I owe you an ending to Retaliation, I will be posting the remaining chapters. It is mostly about the big plan to overcome the C.E.D. Corporation so it should be aligned with the guidelines. The only issue is that you cannot go back to earlier chapters. Trust me, this has been tough for me.

More info on the pinned post on my Page]

RETALIATION

Chapter 9: Life starts at 33

Denzel

I was not a good kid growing up.

In kindergarten, I was already fighting with the other boys; In middle-school, I was constantly challenging the authority; In high-school, I was dealing drugs in the streets instead of attending my classes.

I was not taking any of this shit though, - I was not even smoking weed -, I was doing this purely for the money.

Maybe for the excitement too… I enjoyed feeling like a badass.

Not that it was an excuse, but my father left us when I was just an infant and my drunk mother was barely around.

Even when she was there, she was most often passed-out on the couch. Not the best role model.

I had to take care of my little sister.

Hell, I may have helped her financially but having her big brother being locked-up in prison at 20 years-old certainly did not help Azha… Sorry about that, sis.

God bless, she managed to do great things all by herself.

I did not think that I was some sort of a big criminal but something went wrong one night and someone died. I did not kill him but the boy got shot in the back. He was barely 18. I was responsible.

Someone from my gang ratted me out.

One thing is for sure: you do not have any real friends when you are dealing drugs.

I was sentenced to 25 years. That was harsh but I did not make an appeal. I gave all I had to my sister and prevented her to hire a big shot lawyer to defend me. I did not deserve it.

My life was all over before it had really begun.

I was a skinny boy back then, lengthy and awkward. I dated some girls, but I was barely scratching the surface of what could have been a real relationship.

Right when I felt like I was becoming a grown man and searching for a better meaning in my life, I was locked-up.

25 freaking years… It was almost impossible to comprehend.

Going to prison was the worst thing that could have happened to me, and at the same time, I think that I made the best of it.

See, I could have given up. Easy.

If there is one place on Earth where you can get dark thoughts, addicted to drugs, or meet the wrong people, that is definitely prison.

But I did not give up.

I met an older guy; his name was Francis but everyone was calling him “the Hulk” because he was that fucking big.

He was in his late forties when I was locked-up and I shared his cell for about five years.

For some reason, the Hulk took me under his wing. He protected me against the big dogs of the facility without never asking for anything in return.

He saved my life, really, in all senses of the word.

Rumour had it that he was fucking me on the side but it was all lies.

I was straight but to be honest, I was so grateful for him that I would have given him my ass if he had wanted to take it, but the Hulk never made a move.

He taught me everything that I know.

In many ways, he was the father figure that I had never had.

His values and lessons were pretty simple too, which I liked.

“You respect others. You do not get yourself into troubles. You let go of your frustration in the gym, not on your comrades. You stay loyal to those who are loyal to you. You don’t give up. You never give up.”

I was set to get out of this hell at 45, but the Hulk was also the one who made me believe in the fact that I may have an opportunity to get out before I was 40 with an early-release.

“And kid, life only begins at 40.” He kept on telling me.

That was the main thing that kept me going for all these years.

During my first year in prison, with the Hulk, I discovered the gym and how much I could work on my body. It became my project, my obsession even.

My muscles were my art, the weights I was lifting were giving me the strength to move forward.

It took me three more years to become as buff as my mentor was, but I made it. With hard work, sacrifices, and complete dedication, I had become someone else entirely. A huge lean muscle machine.

In the real world, I would have been able to take part in bodybuilding competitions for sure.

Stuck behind bars, only the other inmates were there to admire my work though…

Soon enough, I no longer needed the Hulk’s protection and at some point, I was the one defending him as he got sick. Cancer.

Although, to be fair, not many people were coming after him.

From the inmates to the guards, everybody respected the Hulk inside the prison.  

He died at 52 years old, the very same day I was “celebrating” my fifth year inside the prison… Sad anniversary. The last few weeks had been particularly painful but I stayed on his side until the very end.

“Life starts at 40 for you.” He repeated before taking his last breath.

That was a hit but he had taught me enough to keep me afloat.

By then, I was very much respected.

I went to the gym even more, spending all my days working the poorly maintained press machines which had been donated the facility, and I even got a job tending the place.

The guards were very interested in having someone monitoring the gym as sport was one of the only ways to keep the inmates under control.

We were making weights out of bottle of waters and we were organizing competitions in the yard. Those were often silly but it could be fun.

I tried to make life easier for the guys who wanted it, and I stayed away from the ones who were only looking for troubles.

From my life before, I was not seeing anyone.

I had no news from my mother, I had no real friend, - most of them were drug addicts or had ratted me out to avoid prison -, and I had asked my little sister never to come visit me in this Hell of a place.

I knew Azha was pursuing studies and a big career in a law firm and I was not surprised.

She had always been the brightest.

Obliviously, life in prison was often depressing. You do not meet the best people there, and some of the guards were a real pain in the ass. For some reason, a couple of them just loved humiliating us.

Not mentioning that although the years were passing, even after ten years in prison, I had not yet gone through half of my sentence…

It seemed endless.

My good behaviour could help me reduce my time though. The warden would certainly speak on my behalf.

I had some hope, but at best, I would get out of there at 40 instead of 45.

“Life starts at 40.”

As it turned out, the opportunity for getting out came sooner than expected.

*

Because the warden and the guards knew that I was not causing problems, they would often get the newbies in my cell.

They were hoping that I would help the young criminals get back on the right track, or at the very least, that I would be a good influence for them on how to behave inside the facility.

This was both a blessing and a curse.

They were not causing me troubles and I liked the thought of being to them what the Hulk had been to me, but it was also exhausting to hear them cry at night or to see them act stupidly.

When I was 31, my young cellmates started to die, one by one.

At the time, we had no idea about the Disease. The outside world had not really understood how serious that was, and in the prison, it had gotten bad very quickly.

It was an all-male environment, and there were many guys below the age of 25.

Being right in the targeted group, we were seriously hit.

Three weeks after his arrival, the young Goldberg started experiencing fever and nose bleed.

I told him to go to the nurse. I could tell that this was not okay and it was only getting worse, by the day.

Everyone thought he was experiencing withdrawal from drugs.

That was very hard to watch.

In the span of a couple of weeks, his state got even worse but nobody seemed to care. People had enough to deal with in the outside world and the prison was very short on the medical staff, not to say that we did not have any medical assistance at all.

He was my first death from the Disease. He was the second guy to die in my arms inside this damn cell…

I knew in my guts that this was nothing to do with drugs.

It was not cancer either.

This was something else entirely. Something I had never seen before.

In the following month, two more of my cellmates died in similar circumstances. I felt like I was doomed.

Outside, according to the news we were getting, people were growing increasingly obsessed with the Disease. Millions of people were inexplicably dying. It was not an epidemy. It was happening randomly, only to young adult men though.

Yet, many young blocks were sent to prison anyway.

It became so bad that my cell had been renamed the “morgue” by the other inmates.

Not everyone was dying of course, but every time a new twenty-something was appointed to my cell, I knew that there was a chance that he might die in the following months.

We did not know anything back then. We were only figuring out the age group which was impacted by the Disease and the fact that it could not be transmitted.

This information was a relief in itself, I had been in contact with so many sick patients.

That was until the C.E.D Corporation barged into the prison about a year after the beginning of the crisis.

Not to help us, obviously, they were only searching for “volunteers” to help them.

I had befriended one of the prison guards, - one of the good ones -, he told me in confidence that a big scientific organization was looking for inmates to use as guinea pigs.

Since they were looking specifically for horny and desperate men, prison was a place of choice.

“What is it about?” I asked.

“What do you think? The Disease of course. They’re working on a Cure.”

“That’s bullshit… There’s no Cure. The whole world’s been looking for a year and nobody has a clue.”

“They do. Well, at least, they seem like they have an idea.” The guard told me.

“Good for them if they can finally prevent those guys from dying…”

“Not sure curing prisoners will be their top priority though.” The guard stated sombrely.

He was right.

“I bet.”

“You’d like to get into the program?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Don’t get your hopes up but from what I’ve understood, they could get you out of here. Seriously.”

“I don’t wanna put any weird chemical in my body.” I objected.

“I don’t think it’s about that. Their experimentation is very different from what the normal labs do.”

“What do you mean?”

The guard hesitated; we were in very good terms but I was still an inmate.

“It has to do with the balls, Denzel. See, it’s only men who are dying. Something to do with jerking off, I don’t know. I’ve got a friend who works in another correctional centre and they had volunteers jerking off and cumming so the C.E.D. Corp could test stuff with their jizz. They didn’t try any medicine though.”

“That’s freaking weird.”

The guard shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. But they did select a few inmates to take part in their program and coincidentally, they all benefited from an early-release… Some of them, multiple years before the planned date.”

This got me highly interested.

“Really? That easy? And just for rubbing one out?”

“Nothing’s never easy in life but yeah, the authorities are willing to do anything to find a solution to the health crisis. Nobody would care about a few inmates getting free if it helps finding a Cure. I bet they’d even become national heroes.”

I was pretty much sold on the idea already.

When the team of doctors, led by Doctor Mordok came to see us in prison, I immediately told them how much I wanted to help with their “research”, whatever that might be.

We had to register on a list, and among the hundreds of inmates who had volunteered, they picked about thirty of us to take part in the first phase of the selection process.

I did not know that it would be such an asset yet, but my long and girthy dick made an impression right away.

The first step was to get us all naked in one room for the “medical examination”.

Doctor Mordok was directly leading the operations that day.

We did have one thing in common with my 27 others pre-selected mates, the C.E.D. Corporation had already eliminated all the men beyond 50, and seemed to have focused their attention on the fittest of the volunteers.

Obviously, I had made the cut.

The few inmates who made gay jokes or were aggressive when Mordok got near their junks were kicked out from the program immediately.

I knew that I had to be “professional” if I wanted to get out of there.

I was soon to celebrate my 33rd birthday and I did not intend to celebrate it in prison, especially not in the cell which had become the damn morgue.

I was the biggest hunk of the facility, but I was also the biggest downstairs, - more than ten inches of pure masculine meat when hard -, in short: I was the perfect candidate for a study on ejaculation.

The initial examination did include a portion where we had to get our cocks stiffed.

First, Mordok felt our balls and our cock flaccid, - that was easy -, but then, he asked us to get to full-mast.

There again, we lost a few of the inmates who either “didn’t want to take part in this weird queer shit” or simply could not get it up with the pressure.

I was not one to get easily startled, and I followed the instructions without much difficulty.

To be fair, I had not had sex with a woman in years so pretty much every occasion was good enough to get hard!

Aside from that prison slut who was servicing my black cock a few times a week, my sex life was pretty pathetic.

My regular cock-sucker was part of the selection process by the way, but sadly, the Disease manifested itself for him right before he could get his early-release ticket.

That was the eighth cellmate that I was losing in the span of 14 months.

I sure missed his blowjobs afterwards…

One more reason to leave this Hell of a place!

Anyway, I got hard, no problem, and stroked my fat uncut dick in front of Mordok. I did not need a porn magazine or anything, just rubbing my junks was usually doing the job.

I could tell that he was impressed by the anaconda rising before his eyes and that I was scoring points.

Good for me.

In nearly twelve years spent inside the prison and communal showers, I had never met my match down-there so I doubted that the C.E.D Corporation would find a better candidate if they were looking for the most massive balls in the country.

And as the tests were progressing, it sure looked like they were indeed looking for some big fat cocks.

We were about fifteen remaining when we were asked to cum and at this point, all potential candidates were even more committed to move forward with the experiment.

To be fair, we were being paid to take part in these first tests and trials. This was pretty extraordinary for inmates such as ourselves who were more used to spend hours working for the prison system for a few cents an hour…

We were not asked to go slow or to go fast, the instruction was extremely simple, too simple maybe:

“Cum in that plastic cup.”

I wondered if they would prefer the guys who were nutting instantly, or the ones who were taking the time to mature their jizz in their balls, edging themselves to reach a better orgasm.

Efficiency versus quality, the usual debate.

Again, we had no idea about the Cure and what they intended to with our sperm.

Because I was pretty good at controlling myself, I waited for a sufficient number of guys to cum before really going at it myself.

I was aiming for middle of the pack in terms of pace.

In terms of quantity though, I was clearly aiming for the top. I was used to cum buckets and I had not nutted in several days.

The sole fact that I could maintain an erection, get into the zone, and jerk myself off in public was putting me in a better position than many of the remaining candidates.

On the fifteen inmates attempting to cum, less than ten actually made it.

There was this poor Latino guy who I was often helping out at the gym. He was furiously pulling on his balls, rubbing his nipples, he even fingered his own ass at some point, but no juice would come out of his faucet.

“I swear I can do it! Please!” He begged while he was asked to leave. “Give me another chance. I can cum!”

He was escorted out.

When I had decided so, I shut my eyes and I knew exactly how to get me going. I knew the right amount of pressure I had to apply on my dick, how to rub my cockhead, how to caress my balls, how to play with my foreskin.

Twelve years in prison had made me pretty much an expert in the art of masturbation.

Also, I was no stranger to rubbing one out with a cellmate or two. I did not care less for the others being naked and horny beside me.

To be real, I even had some sort of a kick out of it, feeling the other guys being impressed and intimidated by my black horse-dick.

When I realized that Mordok was walking nearby, I thought it was the right time to show him what I was capable of.

I burst some huge loads in the cup and made sure to have a very vocal orgasm so he would notice me.

“Hmmmm… Yes… That’s the stuff!” I moaned.

“Impressive.” He nodded, adjusting his large glasses on his nose.

He was a very large guy too – same size as me; he could appreciate the efforts I was putting at the gym.

“I can pretty much cum on command, chief.” I told him, with pride.

He nodded his approval.

I thought I had done very well and I was hopeful to be called back when the session was over.

Unfortunately, we did not get any news in the following weeks. Only more people dying inside the prison.

The guard I was chatting with told me that the team of scientists was visiting other facilities.

Their activities needed to remain secret and confidential for the time being, so basically no one, including the warden, knew what they were really after.

Basically, most prisons were agreeing for them to visit and collect sperm samples of volunteering inmates in exchange of a good cheque.

As long as the money comes in, there is no point in asking any further question… Right?

I had almost given up on the idea that I would ever hear about the C.E.D. Corporation again when Doctor Seeder, - an important guy, working in the Health Department -, visited the prison himself.

He asked to see three prisoners and I was among the three selected.

That was very intimidating.

I had never met a member of the Federal Administration before, and Seeder did look like a mad scientist with his long greyish curly hair and weird tics. He was agitated and he was often talking to himself.

I met him in an office where I had never been invited in. It was a one-on-one meeting. They were rare in prison.

Fucking weird vibe…

I went in anyway.

If he was trying anything on me, I was big enough to defend myself and I had a larger goal in mind. I focused on the big picture. Getting out of prison.

Seeder was completely silent for the moment I took my clothes off, - I got the memo to get naked fast -, but he had a slight gasp when he saw my dangling flaccid cock.

What can I say? My big dick was always a hit.

Once he had judged that my genitals were good enough to deserve his attention, he finally spoke to me.

“Sit, inmate.”

Sadly, after more than a decade locked-up, you get used to be treated that way and you learn for your own good not to push back against the orders.

I obliged and waited for further instructions.

Seeder sat in front of me. He was wearing his medical blouse.

“Do you want to change the world, inmate?”

That was an odd question, but he was not joking.

“I… I guess.”

“Well, that is your opportunity.”

I thought he would tell me more but he remained very elusive about his work, the research or their end goal.

Quickly though, I asked the only thing that mattered to me.

“You think you can get me out of here?”

“We’re going to give you a series of test in the next 48 hours. If you complete them all while showing a good attitude towards our project of eradicating the Disease, we will hand you a one-year employment contract with the C.E.D. Corporation. Once your work with us will be done, your charges will also be completely dropped thanks to the service you will have rendered the Nation.”

It was almost too good to be true.

“I… I could leave the prison…  Really? But what would I have to do for you?”

He frankly smiled at me.

“You will ejaculate a few times a day and we will use your semen to help solving the current Health Crisis.”

My first thought was: that was EASY. But then, I thought…

“How the fuck will you do that? Sorry, I mean, how is it possible?”

“That is not of your concern, but President Harrison might make some announcements soon enough. If you pass the tests, you could be employed by the CUM Factory by the end of this week.”

“The CUM Factory?”

He smiled again.

“I believe the name is rather explicit as to what it does, ain’t it?”

I nodded yes.

This was rather insane but at the same time, the C.E.D Corporation’s staff, the paperwork, all of these sounded legit and there were these rumours already, about a Cure being linked to sperm.

“What do the tests consist of?” I asked

“Doctor Allen will meet you shortly to explain what is expected of you. I simply wanted to make a first assessment before moving forward.”

He took a longer look at me. I was nervous.

“Understood. And… And what do you think? You think I could be a good match?”

“I believe you could be a great asset for our company.”

Phew!

Doctor Seeder stood up; I did the same. He checked my junks once again and he shook my hands firmly.

I was left alone, stark naked in the office, for a couple of hours, - thinking back, it was clearly part of the series of tests they had designed as I was being recorded by two cameras -, until Doctor Allen came and gave me the next instructions.

First, I had to cum in another cup, which I did right there, on the desk, in front of this new doc.

Lucky for me, I was not shy and I was constantly horny.

Then, I had to fill out endless forms and paperwork about my life, sexual orientation and sexual habits… That was way less fun.

I told the truth for every question.

I was straight but in prison, I had already let several guys had a go at my demanding cock. I specified it in one of the forms. I was not ashamed of that.

I could have gotten in troubles for revealing such forbidden relationship inside the facility but I could tell that those guys would already have made their investigations and it was smarter to be honest.

Just filling out the paperwork took me hours.

I was asked to nut once again afterwards, which was good news, because it meant that I was still on the run to be selected.

Doctor Allen came back, he took measurements of my body: my height, my weight, but also the size of my cock, flaccid or hard.

I let him handle me. He looked satisfied with his findings…

“Nice specimen.” He even mentioned at some point.

After my third ejaculation, a lawyer came in to explain the conditions under which I could effectively benefit from an early release.

Life does not start at 40, I thought, it can start at 33!

This, even the Hulk had not imagined, and for me, it meant everything.

In my thirties, I could meet someone, have children, create a family for myself; I would also be financially compensated for my work.

This was truly my chance to start over.

I almost cried when the lawyer confirmed the next day that thanks to the association between the C.E.D. Corporation and the Federal government, I would be indeed released of all charges if I were to work for them for a full year.

My cellmates were very curious about the secret meetings I was having, even the guards asked me questions about what was going on.

I remained as silent as a grave.

I am not dumb. There were the official tests: they were checking how many times I could cum in a day, how much semen I could produce, how fit and ready I was to perform; But they were also the tests I was not made aware of.

I am convinced that some people trying to get information out of me were acting under the orders of the C.E.D. Corporation. I did not crack.

Life starts at 33.

That was the brand-new thought which kept me going.

I did pass all the tests and I was handed my contract. It was all real.

Twelve years before the date I was supposed to get out, seven years before I could even make an appeal for an early-release, I was let out of the prison to move inside the CUM Factory.

I could hardly believe my luck. I was one of millions of inmates but I was amongst the few chosen-ones.

I would share my apartment with another donor.

I would be just like any other employee.

No mention of my past, of my crimes, I was an Alpha, only here to save lives.

And in just a year, I could leave and start over somewhere else.

“Although, trust me, Denzel. You might not want to leave us once you’ll have spent a year enjoying the Factory. It’s just so fun in there!” Mordok had told me while I was signing my contract.

About a week after I had moved in the Factory, President Harrison made his big speech about the Cure, and the cum being used to heal the Beta males.

It became official, and the CUM Factory opened its doors for rich Beta males in need of nutritious selected semen.

A few more days passed and I met Lucas and Julian.

I had already met Red.

I got used to the life as a naked horny donor inside the Factory rather quickly. It was much easier for me that it was for some of my colleagues. It makes sense, for them, the Factory felt just like prison, while for me, it was freedom.

A huge, fancy and functioning gym…

Being surrounded by people who were not drugs addicts…

Eating healthy meals full of proteins…

Sure, I was still locked up in a way but this had nothing to do with prison and most importantly, I had a goal in sight.

One year and my life was (finally!) about to start.

*

Unfortunately, things went south rather quickly, and I am not sure this story holds a happy ending for me.

Lucas, and Red, and then Julian, all my buddies vanished one by one.

The methods of the Factory became harsher, the surveillance became stricter, my libido became insane.

I tried to stay as far away from the politics and the Rebels as I could, but somehow, I got involved.

Things took another turn for me the day when I met my new roommate.

Julian and Simon had escaped in very strange circumstances but I was not held responsible by the staff.

I knew nothing.

A few days later, Zachary told me that I had been appointed a new roommate following Julian’s departure.

When I got back to the apartment, my roomie was already there, seemingly very lost and confused, as every newbie was.

I guess it was my destiny to welcome the rookies, both in the prison and the Factory.

“Welcome to the family, brother. I’m Denzel.” I shook his hand.

“Hi, Denzel… I… I’m Gino.”