Criminals on Ice

From: Bert

Don't ask me how I got into this. Being a prison guard, that is. I went to college to become an expert on criminology, but when it came time to look for a job... Well, it was this or become a police officer in Arkansas, trying to scare up a date for the governor. I worked at one of the larger penitentiaries in the state, and had eventually worked my way up to being a guard supervisor. But I still would walk the yard and cruise up and down the hallways during lockdown. I had won the respect of the other guards, and even a few of the prisoners, including some of bigger ones, the meaner ones, and the violent ones.

When I had first started, I was healthy, but not such an imposing. I was 6'1" and only 180 pounds. I used to jog and box, but I was never particularly muscular. I lived in fear my first week at work as some of the criminals were stocky and muscular, and looked like they could punch holes in the cinderblock walls. I resolved to lift weights until I had an imposing figure of my own.

And after 7 years, it showed. I weighed 220 pounds, with 18 inch biceps, a 35 inch waist, a 50 inch chest, washboard abs, strong thighs and shapely calves. Needless to say, I spent a small fortune in uniforms through the years, but some of the prisoners looked at me in new ways. Some with respect, some with fear, and some with...lust?

My promotion to guard supervisor was about two years ago. One of my responsibilities is to conduct the transfer of prisoners in and out of the prison. I noticed that a lot of the more muscular or violent prisoners had been transferred to the new Karn medium security facility. When I got an order to transfer Jack Peterson, I called the state Bureau of Prisons just to make sure that there wasn't any mistake. Jack was a member of the Aryan Brotherhood, and had been convicted of 5 murders, 100 counts of attempted murder, arson and hate crimes, when he tried to burn down a Black church at Easter. And the Bureau of Prisons confirmed the transfer order; and out he went, just like many of our other resident deviants and sociopaths. The warden called me into his office to talk one day. It was the time for promotions and raises. I had just gotten my promotion two years ago, and a raise last year, so I wasn't expecting too much, maybe just a positive evaluation.

"John, you've done a good job here. We're going to miss you," the Warden began. "Am I getting laid off?"

"Oh, no, John, we're transferring you." "Not to sound ungrateful, but what for?"

"With your qualifications, we're sending you to the Karn facility for a few years to learn some of the new penal methods they're experimenting with there. The hope is that you might return here and become assistant warden."

I was quite surprised. You so rarely hear about such career opportunities landing in your lap. I accepted the position. The Karn penal facility was only 3 or 4 years old, and was a 40 minute commute from my home, whereas my old job was a 30 minute commute each way, so I didn't mind the extra driving. The pay-raise would adequately cover the gas.

On the first day, I drove in through the main entrance. There were low posts with some sort of sensors on them, electric eyes, I assumed. The front lawn area was covered over in grass and pine trees, and Greek statuary. Pretty spiffy for a state prison, I thought. I was waved through security and after filling out all the necessary forms for employment, I had my meeting with the Karn Warden.

He was a large man, in his late 40s, 6'2, built and bearded like a lumberjack. He stood up behind his desk with the aid of a cane, and extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, John," he said.

"The pleasure is mine, Warden Norris," I said.

"Please call me Frank," he said. We discussed briefly my background and the position that I would be filling here, as observer and guard supervisor.

"What makes our prison here unique is the way we house and reform our prisoners," he continued.

"Oh? How is that?"

"A regimen of strenuous exercise, psychological training and a new type of artistic participation." It sounded like a unique combination, especially that art bit.

"Strenuous exercise? Aren't other prisons trying to take away weightlifting equipment because the prisoners were getting too strong?"

"True, but exercise at other prisons was unmanaged. We monitor our prisoners very closely for weight, height, blood chemistry, fat content. They're usually too tired to cause problems when we're done with them."

"And the psychological conditioning?"

"Therapy sessions to try to work over the anger that many prisoners keep inside."

"And artistic participation?"

"Well, it's more than just watercolors and crayons," he said. "We encourage a few different types of expression, such as the gardens you saw while driving in."

"Yes, they DID look rather well-kept. And the statuary was rather impressive for a prison site."

"Like I said, the inmates participate in several ways," he said with a wide grin.

After settling in my office, I was led on a tour by one of the guards. First I saw the standard entrance procedure for new inmates. What appeared to be a cavity check followed by a forced shower and then a physical exam. I saw what appeared to be a small non-invasive surgery going on. The doctor was administering what appeared to be vaccines or booster shots with one of those air guns. Finally the doctor pulled out a gun that looked more like a powerful handgun than anything.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"Oh, that's the gun that inserts the sensor into the inmate's back. It's about the size of a pea, and it monitor's the inmate's position, and monitors his blood chemistry, among other things. The inmate is just given a local anesthetic, and that's it."

"It still looks pretty intimidating." He led me further into the activities complex. There was an outside running track and baseball diamond. Behind them was an old hangar, inside which was filled with all the latest exercise equipment, both machines and free-weights, and maybe 60 hulking, athletic men, drenched in sweat, pumping and exerting themselves to the music of Miles Davis. There were probably another 20 inmates or so out on the track. We toured through the cell blocks, where each was circular, with a high-tech console in the middle manned by at least two guards, and two floors of cells arranged in a circle around the middle, all within view of the console. It was a warm day, so many of the inmates were walking around topless, with large, muscled chests and arms like thick tree branches.

"What about that building over there," I asked, indicating a medium-sized two-floor building.

"Oh, that's the lab and infirmary," the guard said. "Frank said he wanted to take you there himself."

I thought that sounded a little odd. "I see."

Frank showed up a few minutes later. "You've had chance to see the rest of the facility, John?"

"Yeah, 'cept over there. I hear you're taking me personally," I said, pointing again at the infirmary.

"Yes, I'm very proud of it," he said, beaming. He dismissed the guard, and we started over there.

"So this is where the infirmary is?"

"Yes, the infirmary is here. It's kept here to prevent the spread of communicable disease. But that's not all that's here." We approached the door. "Get ready to see what makes Karn so special." He indicated for me to open the door by flashing my ID to the electronic eye.

The infirmary seemed relatively small, and rather new and clean, but otherwise ordinary. There was a communal hospital room, some exam rooms and an OR. Further down the hall there was another door with an electronic eye. We proceeded that way and entered.

The lobby was lighted and airy, and in the middle was an interesting bronze sculpture on a platform, reminiscent of the Vietnam War Memorial. Two men, looking forlorn, chained, one of them holding a sledgehammer against a large boulder.

"A reminder to us of how far jails have come," Frank said. He led me down one corridor and continued my orientation. "You saw the chips that were inserted into the inmates. Those do everything that we say that they do, but there's one other function: it administers a small current that completely immobilizes the inmates, to varying degrees."

"Huh?" What kind of bullshit was this?

"It completely freezes the inmate, he can't move a muscle. And depending on the intensity, he either falls completely asleep, or he'll remain awake. In any case, it's a great way to control them, especially the violent ones. Here, let me show you someone you might remember." We continued into the room. There he was, Jack Peterson, tattooed with all his white supremacist affiliations on his back and shoulders that I could see. He was kneeling, mouth wide open, apparently frozen in the act of sucking a large man's cock.

Jack looked more muscular than I had remembered, with wide shoulders that tapered down to a bubble-shaped ass. And his friend had large hands both wrapped around the back of Jack's neck pulling him close. Jack's nose was buried in other man's tuft of black public hair. The other man was easily 6'3" and 220 pounds of solid muscle, his head tilted back and eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of Jack's mouth swallowing him whole. And there was no sound and no movement coming from either one of them. It was as if they were well-endowed mannequins. I touched the big man's bottom. The skin was smooth and pliant. It was real skin. But how could it be? I looked at Frank for an explanation. "How? Why?"

Frank took a deep breath before he started to explain. "I'm sure it's quite obvious that modern penal techniques just aren't working. We bring in convicted felons and they stay here for a stretch at the taxpayer's expense while they learn how to be better criminals. You know at that facility where you were, a significant fraction of the population have spent the majority of their adult lives in different penal institutions."

"So that means you turn them into this?" I asked, pointing at the bizarre display.

"Let me explain. What we do here, with the aid of the Immobilizer, is give the inmate time to think. And only think. When they're frozen, there's nothing else for them to do: lift weights, make weapons, fight, eat, sleep, and work. They get a chance to think seriously about their crimes."

"And about all those guys I saw lifting weights?"

"We find that does help, but only as part of a tightly controlled regimen. Psychological therapy, psychiatric medication, if necessary."

"But what about this particular case?" I asked referring to Jack and his new... friend.

"In this case, we're trying to get Jack accustomed to Gays in a non-violent and non-confrontational manner. In this way, we hope to lessen his violent bigotry."

"And the other guy?"

"He volunteered for the duty."

"So are they conscious while frozen like this?"

"We can adjust the power outputs so that the inmates can be conscious or unconscious. We can also adjust the power so that their bodies can be totally frozen or still pliable by others, but not themselves. In Jack's case, he's completely aware."

I was struck by the irony of Jack's situation. I leaned down to him so he'd hear me and said: "I hope you're enjoying yourself, Jack." Frank led me out of the room, and left Jack to his poetic justice and cocksucking.

We passed the statues I'd seen on the way in. "So are they for real?" I asked.

"Yes, in some of the art therapy, the inmates practice on each other as a means of expression." I inspected the figures more closely. Had I not known better, I would have assumed them to be bronze sculptures. I knocked gently, and the did not ring hollow. "The inmates devised themselves a way to get this metallic finish. After a few primer coats, they cover them in metallic paint, and then cover them with a layer of shellac. The statuary you saw on the outside of the facility was done the same way with paint, that spray marble finish and some epoxy."

"Really?"

"Some of these prisoners are serving life sentences, so if we can find a way to even rehabilitate them, we can really revolutionize the penal system." We stepped outside the building. "See all these tall posts that look like telephone poles?" I nodded. "These are the units that keep everyone's unit in operation. They're emitting long wavelength radio waves that keep the Immobilizers from working. In most cases, the default setting is to receive the radio signals so that the prisoners remain mobile. Now, we can easily override the Immobilizers so that we can control them to do different things. For example, those people who were turned into statues, their Immobilizers completely shut out the radio signals. And we can modulate the strength of the signals that reach the Immobilizers."

"Interesting," I said. "Where did this technology come from?"

"Suffice to say, it came from the government. The engineering specs and the full report on their ability is in a file waiting for you on your desk. But suffice to say, don't ask too many other questions, if you know what I mean."

I nodded to confirm my understanding.

"I noticed that there was fairly little security around here...what gives with that?" I asked.

"Oh, well as the prisoners wander off from the prison, they find that the radio signals weaken, and they find mobility increasingly difficult, until the point that they can't move anymore. And tracking is easy since a homing beacon is imbedded in their Immobilizers. So they don't even try it."

"Too bad it's not so easy everywhere else," I said.

"Yeah, that's what we're working on here at Karn," Frank said. We returned to my office, where I read late into the night on the properties of the Immobilizer, as well as Karn standard operating procedures. Apparently, instead of solitary confinement, the inmate was left immobile yet conscious, the duration, location and position of which to be determined by the warden or other approved prison officials. Like me. Stronger penalties included being left immobilized and unconscious for extended periods of time, a minimum of a year, again at the discretion of the warden...or me.

It was then that I realized how much power that I had. I could reduce a man to a statue, mannequin or museum piece at any whim of mine. They had to follow my direction, and had to do whatever I dictated. I left my office feeling different than I arrived, tingling with the feeling of new-founded power. I pulled out of the prison, looking at the handsome statues flanking the entrance, realizing that I was tingling for another reason.

The weeks rolled by. I came to know the inmates, and they came to know me. I talked to the art therapy director about participating in the statue making courses. He said that while they were meant for the inmates, he'd see what he could do. I came to be familiar with the routine, until the expected yet unexpected happened.

It was lunch-time Friday. The inmates (the mobile ones anyway) were eating their lunch. Despite all the mod cons at Karn, it was still an institution, and institutional food sucks.

I was reading at my desk when a loud, shrill alarm went off, piercing the afternoon calm. I dropped the paper and followed the guards into the lunchroom, who was only walking quickly. At my old prison, the guards would have been running at top-speed down the corridor with rifles. These guards had only handguns (still in their holsters!), hand trucks and large laundry bin carts.

"Prison revolt?" I asked.

"Yeah, but it's all under control, chief," one of the guards said.

"What are the bins and hand trucks for?" I asked.

"You'll see," he said. I followed him into the lunchroom. I was amazed by the sight I saw. There must have been 150 men, completely motionless. They were caught in the instant that they were sitting, standing, throwing, wrestling, hitting, and getting hit, shouting, hiding, ducking, or still eating. In some ways, you could see how the revolt had started. In the middle were two men, one holding the other in a headlock with plenty of space around them.

"Ya see those two in the middle there, chief?" another guard pointed.

"Yeah, what about 'em?" I said.

"That's where the riot started," he said. "The watch guard confirmed it. Becker started this one, he said, pointed the main standing in the middle of the circle with his arm around another man's neck.

"What happens to the rest of these guys?" I asked.

"We get 'em back to their cell blocks," he said. "Hence the hand trucks and laundry carts." He motioned to me to start lugging the frozen bodies and dumping them in the carts. The guards assured me that the rioting inmates were now unconscious, and couldn't feel a thing. The two in the middle were to be sent to the warden's office.

It felt strange to be handling these men like so immobile mannequins. I noticed how aroused I was getting, but hoped no one else noticed. I looked around and saw a few more bulges among the guards who were toting the immobile inmates around.

After about an hour, the rest of the guards were on their way to the dormitories with the rest of the inmates, one guard and I were left with the two trouble-starters.

"Help me separate them, chief," he said. I stood in front of the two men, and while the guard pulled on the bent-over man from his waist, I pushed his head through the crook of Becker's arm. The other man, Minuit, or Minuteman, as the guard called him, popped free and was propped up on the hand cart by the guard. He handed me another hard cart to ferry Becker to the warden's office. Unsure, I wheeled the hand cart behind him, tipped him forward and slid the hand truck under his feet.

Becker looked like a hungry wolf. Standing upright, he looked to be about 6'1", and felt like he weighed about 230 pounds, mostly muscle, but with a paunch. His exposed forearms were covered with the same walnut brown hair on his head and chin. He had a closely-cropped beard and mustache and piercing light blue eyes. I set him down on the handcart, and grabbed at the crotch to scoot him a bit more on the cart. What the hell, I thought, he won't know--no one will. My hand drifted up to his chest where I felt his large pecs and pinched at his nipples through the shirt.

"Coming, Chief?" the guard asked from across the cafeteria. Snapped from my private reverie, I pivoted the handcart and tipped Becker back, holding on to a large, solid bicep as wheel went to visit the warden.

"Your first prison riot, eh? Well, let's get the story," Frank said. He picked up what looked like a VCR remote and pointed it at the inmates still frozen, but now separated. At the same time, they looked very peaceful, yet violent, caught in action poses, like a single frame out of a movie roll. Frank pressed a button and the two of them came alive and drew breath.

They relaxed their poses, saw each other and for a moment seemed ready to fight again, but realized where they were.

"So Becker, did you start this one? And don't lie, we have witnesses and it's on tape this time," Frank said, sounding like he had done this before.

"Yeah, sure, warden, whatever," he said. After about five minutes, blame and responsibility was established. Minuteman was taken, conscious and unfrozen, to clean up the cafeteria. Becker remained to receive punishment.

"In honor of your first riot, John, why don't you decide?" Frank said.

"Me, Warden Norris?" I asked, taken aback.

"Sure, why not, Chief?" Becker said with a leer on his face. "I'll bet you could come up with something good. You look like you know how to have a good time."

"That's enough, Becker!" Frank snapped, and picked up his control and froze Becker with a seductive leer on his face. The devil in the Blue Prison Fatigues.

"Are you sure, Frank?"

"Why the hell not? You gotta do this sometime," he said, standing up.

Frank went to his closet and waved for me to join him. "Look at this, John." He opened up the door to the closet and I saw a large, grown man, on his knees. His mouth was frozen in a comical 'O' shape, with small white stains around it. His arms were up around our crotch level, his left hand up with one finger stuck out.

"I take he's being punished for something?" I asked.

"Yes, he gave me this limp a few years ago. And this is his punishment,"

"Is he conscious?"

"For this, certainly. And every so often, I unfreeze him to get him to change positions. You should have seen him at the Christmas staff party," Frank said.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked.

"To let you know what you can do. In this case, do what you like. In fact, why don't you take Becker home this weekend?"

"Huh???"

"He'll be well behaved. We'll give you a control like that one and a small radio transmitter on a battery so he can be mobile when you need him to be, and you can pretty much go crazy. You look over his file, and you think about it in your office. Come back in an hour, and let me know what you want to do. The paperwork will be waiting for you."

I picked up Becker's file and took one last look at Becker. He seemed like he was still consciously leering at me. My dick started to harden on its own.

I leaned back in the chair and looked over the file while absent-mindedly rubbing my crotch. William A. Becker, 34, first conviction at 13 for stealing a car and it just went downhill from there. Theft, theft, assault, theft, assault, theft, robbery, larceny, armed robbery, armed robbery. He'd made the tour of state penal institutions, and was sent here after his last armed robbery for pistol-whipping children, giving one serious brain damage. I reflected on my feelings and my cock's feeling, and decided to do it. Frank seemed happy for me, so I didn't feel too bad about it. The battery went to the portable radio transmitter, which was good for 48 hours. The control they gave me basically had a knob with five settings: Frozen, pliable and normal. When the knob was at normal, a button had to be pressed at all times that Becker was supposed to be mobile. The radio transmitter looked like a small antenna about 6" tall.

Frank re-animated Becker who was escorted by a guard with me and Frank to my car. "Leave the shackles on, but he won't give you any trouble during the drive home. Hell, put him in the front seat." The guard helped Becker into the car, and walked away.

"He won't act up during the drive?"

"You'll see," he said. He winked at me, and limped back to his office.

I got in my car and we started on the way home. He pointed at one of the statues on my left. "That's Green. He's here after the police figured out that he had killed his three wives, and that they didn't just disappear. They say that he has a problem with women."

Knowing this place, he doesn't have that problem anymore, I thought. He pointed at another man on our right. "That's Sanchez. He used to be a mechanic. Despite other repairs, he arranged it so that the brakes on any foreign car would fail after about a month. Twelve people died." We turned onto the main highway. He turned to look at me and said, "Drive safely, Chief." His voice sounded deeper and slower. "See you at home." He turned his head very slowly and faced forwards with a leer on his bearded face, and he froze that way. I tried to manipulate on of his arms, and he appeared to be quite frozen until I re-animated him at home.

And I drove home, my heart beating faster, my foot a little heavier on the gas pedal, my cock a little harder in anticipation of this man.

John sped home, feeling all the more aroused with the immobile Becker sitting next to him. Once out of the influence of the tower/radio projectors at the prison, the beefy muscular man simply stopped. He was frozen solid.

I reached over and tried to move one of Becker's arms but it remained solidly in place. I waved a hand in front of his face but there was simply no reaction. It was like Becker had been turned off, like a machine or toy. I couldn't control the rush of erotic feeling as the idea of helplessness on Becker's part and the feeling of control on his dawned on him. And to exercise this control in private, for my own amusement....

I drove his car into his garage at home and got out, opening the door from the garage into the house. I went to Becker's side and looked over the statuesque man. Becker gave no indication of awareness.. The same leer was on his face, his eyes didn't blink... he was still as solid as ever.... I extended the antennae on the control box and activated the unit. I set the control so that Becker's awareness came back and he could move some.

Slowly the big beefy man turned to face John. "S--o.....w--e--'--r--e h--o-m--e ?" he drawled out, his thick limbs moving as if underwater. "Yes, now get out of the car," I ordered, opening the door for Becker. With Becker as he is, doing anything useful would take nearly forever. I maneuvered Becker into his home, a simple basic place, but well furnished and with many comforts to relax and forget the day-to-day world and my often stressful job.

"W--h--e--r--e t--o ??" asked the controlled Becker. "W--h--a--t d--o y--o--u h--a--v--e--d p--l--a--n--n--e--d f--o--r m--e ? He drawled out, another leer starting to etch itself into his face. I wasn't sure what Becker was up to. He seemed to be going about this all too easily. I was sure that Becker would try some escape or some other bit of mischief. I couldn't believe that the man would not try to take advantage of the situation, even controlled as he was.

I had Becker go into the living room. The tall, muscular man simply followed orders, lumbering along in his slowed state. Once there, I had him turn to face me. "S--u--r--e t--h--i--n---g , c--h--i--e--f!" Becker leered, his mouth opening into a wide grin and the tongue just starting to hang out in a gross suggestion of sexuality. I hit the STOP button and Becker became a statue again. I carefully put the control down and walked around the stopped man. I reached and felt the warm, pliable skin beneath the prison clothes. Well, those are the first to go, I though. I moved in and undid the buttons to the gray prison shirt and carefully slid it off the bulky arms and wide chest of Becker. The man had worked out and kept in good shape, all at tax-payers expense. I could easily be a model for some muscle builder magazine, were it not for his adorable paunch. His chest was nice and furry, too. Lots of thick fur in the front and on his forearms. The chest was well defined with slab-like pecs and nipples the size of half-dollars. All this time, Becker simply stared, a slave to the machine and the control mechanism imbedded in his skin. There wasn't even a movement of his chest nor a heartbeat when I held my ear to his chest. Becker was turned off as surely as on turns off a machine. He was simply an inert body to do whatever I wanted at this time. I stared into Becker's eyes: nothing stared back.. The big man was simply not there.

Next came the pants. The prison gray uniform slid off his legs, big meaty thick legs, like tree trunks. Only his jockey shorts, again prison gray, kept him from showing off all his assets. I stepped around to the back and undid the handcuffs, the only restraints that Becker was wearing. I felt a bit hesitant about this, still not fully convinced of his helplessness. I was sure that he would spring to life as soon as the metal restraints were off his wrists.

But the big man just continued staring at the place where I had been when he had frozen him. I picked up the control unit and the adjusted it so that he was now malleable yet still frozen. I also adjusted it so he was aware, yet still unable to do anything. I quickly stripped the big man. His shoes and socked joined the pile of his other prison clothes. Soon the big muscular man was naked and standing before me. I wanted to test this.

I reached out and teased his cock, to get some reaction from him. Obediently the cock rose to my fondling, yet the rest of him stood mute and still. I moved in close and whispered into his face. "Like that, boy? Like how you are? Like being my toy?" I teased him. He made no movement, just his cock growing larger with my manipulations. I reached up and twisted his head, first one way, and then the other. The big man's body was obedient to my manipulations, but again he said nothing.

"Let’s see how far this can go!" I teased. I stepped back and took off my own trousers. I reached over and pulled his right hand so it hung out in space at waist level. I wrapped the hand around my own cock and started to move it up and do down my shaft, massaging it to life. I watched the expression on his face hold, that same leer and open mouth. But his cock quivered a few times with the pulse of his slowly beating heart and then faded growing slowly flaccid.

I knew at this point that he was expecting something like this. He was expecting to be used, to be toyed with. Pulling Becker's hand off my own cock, I worked his body, like it was clay, into a kneeling position. The big man was a bit hard to work, being a bit stiff but soon he was kneeling on his haunches, balanced on the toes of his big, wide feet. I stepped up and started playing the tip of his cock around his mouth. "You want, this, don't you, big guy?"

Becker's mute face simply stared, the same expression fixed. Hm, I thought. "Well, let's try this out" I reached over and aimed the control and adjusted it so he was now able to move and talk, but only at about 1/8th of his normal speed....

"Y---e---s, s---i---r !!!" the big man drawled out. "G---i---v---e m---e y---o---u---r c---o---c---k, s---i---r!!!" was all he was able to say...

That was all I wanted to hear. As Becker's mouth opened into a big "O" shape, I hit the controls and froze him again, now his mouth in the perfect position for servicing. I thrust my cock all the way into his mouth. The man didn't gag or squirm, he simply took it all, swallowing it with incredible ease. His body was turned off and was now simply a sex toy for my enjoyment. I again adjusted the controls so he could feel what was happening to him, but unable to react. I glanced down to see his cock attempting to rise, quivering a bit with frustration for lack of outlet.

I didn't care at this point. I used Becker as a toy, a sex device, something to be used to get off with no thought to its own worried and thoughts and desires....

I pumped Becker's face, filling his mouth with my own, not inconsiderable, piece of hot cock. I watched Becker's face rock with his own bodily rhythm as I thrust my cock deeper and deeper into him. Our bodies rocked together, Becker quivering a bit with the slapping of my body against his. He simply took whatever was fed to him. He was the perfect sexual toy and partner. He didn't complain. He simply satisfied his partner in whatever way that was possible. At this point, the only think Becker could do was simply accept my cock......

Becker was my toy... and I used him that way pumping him and using the big man ....

Finally I could contain my orgasm no longer. I felt it rise inside me and gush forth. I held his face down on my cock, forcing it all the way down his throat. I screamed his pleasure to the four walls of the room, letting it echo around and finally die off. I released Becker's body, watching if fall back onto his toes. Some of my cum dribbled from his open mouth, but the big man did nothing to clear it way. He simply waited there to be used again like any purely sexual toy.

I staggered back a bit, my brain hazed by the intensity of the orgasm. The combination of his wonderful mouth and his absolute subservience and motionlessness was overwhelming. I'd never experienced anything like that.

After a few moments, I sat down and simply looked over my captive for the weekend, my perfect sexual toy and plaything. "So, what did *you* think of that?" I asked the silent and still Becker. No response. I aimed the control and brought Becker up to 1/4 speed. " '-b-o-u-t t-i-m-e y-o-u l-e-t m-e o-u-t o-f t-h-a-t!" the prisoner grunted out. His speech was slow but enough to recognize.

"Y-o-u w-e-r-e g-o-o-d, C-h-i-e-f!" he finally squawked. He tried to slowly rise up. His cock sprung out, as fast as it could, as fast as anything running at 1/4 speed could. It took a few moments to rise to full erection.

"I w-a-s w-o-n-d-e-r-i-n-g w-h-a-t y-o-u-'-d d-o w-i-t-h m-e o-n-c-e y-o-u g-o-t m-e a-l-o-n-e!" Becker's continued to drawl.....

John was suddenly alert to what Becker was saying. "What do you mean?" he asked unsure what Becker was hinting at.

"I s-e-t u-p t-h-a-t r-i-o-t i-n t-h-e c-a-f-e-t-e-r-i-a s-o t-h-a-t I w-o-u-l-d g-e-t a c-h-a-n-c-e a-t g-e-t-t-i-n-g y-o-u i-n-t-o a s-e-x s-c-e-n-e!" explained the SLOW-ed prisoner.

Becker had finally gotten upright, standing on his own two feet. At this revelation, I could hardly belief my own ears. I aimed the device and froze Becker again. I slowly walked around the statuesque man. Getting to his backside, I reached out and admired the twin globes of his firm ass. I pushed Becker in the back, gently and tilted the man over at the hip so that his ass was more prominent and accessible.

So, Becker wanted me, eh? I thought, a bit of maliciousness tingeing my thoughts. I massaged myself to erection and then opened the twin globes of his ass. He had frozen Becker again so that he could feel everything, but again was unable to react to anything.... I plowed into his ass, humping him.

Slowly at first, but then with greater speed, I thrust into the frozen man's ass, fucking him hard, giving it too him like he so wanted... If Becker wanted to have sex with him, then I would oblige him.....

I reached around and teased Becker's cock to life. I massaged it and fondled his balls. I felt it twitch and jump to my stimulation. It didn't take much since Becker was already erect. I could feel the slow thumping of Becker's heart keeping rhythm with my fucking. The two bodies close together, swaying in rhythm. Thrusting and twisting together.....

I felt another orgasm screaming its way out of me, thrusting its way into Becker with each pulse of his own heart and each thrust of his hips....

I thrust so hard that Becker's body actually started to topple over, pulling free of my cock as soon as I had spent. Becker fell to the floor with a heavy *thud* laying frozen in his bent over position, still my sex toy. I felt light-headed and slowly crumpled atop Becker, laying breathing heavy, my heart racing.....

And so it went for that weekend. Friday night, after our first fuck session, I regained my breath. Becker was face down on the floor of my living room, but otherwise frozen. His ass was slick with my seed and faced upwards shamelessly. His thick, hairy legs extended straight.

I reached for the remote that controlled his actions and let him move about freely at full speed. He got on to his knees and faced me. "Wow, pretty fuckin' intense," he said. He felt his own ass, fingering the results of the savage reaming I had just administered. "Mind if I clean up?" he asked.

"Sure, let me show you," I said, and led him to the bathroom. He helped me strip quickly and we showered and explored each others' bodies, not even noticing when the hot water ran out. He showed me his collections of tattoos, and I showed him a few fairly remote places to get more markings.

He proceeded to the bed while I went for the remote from the living room. When I returned he was already trying to get himself off. I joined him on the bed, tousling his chest hair and taking my tongue and swirling it around his nipples, hearing his breathing becoming more and more labored, swallowing more air to try to quench his awesome sexual thirst. I stroked his rod around the base, which made him more aroused, causing him to grunt slowly and deeply. His breathing became deeper and deeper and his groaning louder and louder until I clicked him to a frozen state again, preserving him on the verge of realizing such ecstasy.

His head was tipped back. Though his mouth open and silent, it bespoke the volume and intensity of his arousal. His eyeballs were tipped back into his head. His nipples were fully erect, hard little knobs of flesh that stood out on his meaty, hairy chest. His back was arched slightly. One hand was reaching for his chest, while the other was holding onto his raging erection, which was a reddish purple with a large head, connected to a rather large scrotum that had soft, downy, brown hair covering it.

I touched his scrotum and gently massaged it between my fingers. I followed the length of his legs and down to his feet. I twiddle each of his toes and flexed each foot at the ankle, playing with his toes while this man had no power over them himself. I nibbled at the large toe, and sighed with his toe resting in my mouth.

I went back up his body, kissed the tip of his erection that had a small bead of clear pre-cum sitting at the top, and caressed his bearded face. Good night, Becker. I pushed the button so he would go from this state of extreme arousal and sleep locked inside his immobile body. I pulled his left arm that held his erection in anticipation of sexual release and brought it out perpendicular to his side and laid across it as if here were cuddling with me in the bed.

The next morning, Becker laid next to me, still in search of the sexual satisfaction that he sought. I got an idea just then.

I stumbled out of bed and went to one of the closets outside my bedroom. I reached for my camera and pulled off the lens cap. Becker lay in my bed still, almost like a detailed museum piece, instructing the world in the finer points of self-satisfaction.

Since he would keep indefinitely like a good statue, I went about my morning routine until the morning fog cleared from my head.

After breakfast and the paper, I felt sufficiently composed to start taking pictures. Becker was still in his pose, so I adjusted the light in the room a started taking pictures of Becker in all his glory, from different angles, focusing on his feet, his face, and his cock alternately.

When I was done, I released Becker from his stasis and after a few moments of bewilderment he returned to his actions from the night before and ejaculated for what seemed like minutes.

"Dude, intense." he said groggily.

"Yeah, those twelve hour erections are like that," I said. He got up, gave me a quick smooch & grope and cleaned himself off.

After that and a little breakfast, he asked what I'd like to do next. We went into the basement where we lifted weights for a while. I wanted his well-developed physique in top form when I started taking more pictures. We lifted for almost an hour and he and I were both slick with sweat. The beads of sweat matted some of his fur together, so I gave him a towel to dry off with.

In the living room again, I told him to pose with his fists up like a boxer. I told him to look menacing, which he did easily and convincingly. I pressed a button on the remote which captured his fury and maintained his pose, while I only fine tuned it.

I separated his arms to show off his chest more, and tipped his head up more. I started flashing more and more pictures. Some poses were more athletic, others more suggestive. By night time I had snapped several rolls of film, including a whole role of me and his feet, licking the soles, nibbling the toes, and so on. There were even a few that I set the camera on the tripod for and I posed with Becker. A few he and I were both live for, others he was immobilized and I pretended to satisfy myself upon him as if her were an inanimate object for my own gratification.

By the end, I had posed Becker on his hands and knees, ass sticking out, his neck arched up with his mouth open and one hand stretched up, his fingers forming a circle. I had turned him into the ultimate at-home pleasuring center, in almost every possible orientation. I was quite tired so he became a footrest while I watched TV. But that didn't last for long. My cock, tired and sore as it was, itched again for a little action. I laid upon Becker, checking that he could at least feel what was going on, and impaled him. I fucked him hard doggy style, falling asleep.

I awoke the next morning, wonder why my bed was so lumpy, and only to realized I had fallen asleep on Becker's back, while his mouth and hand mutely offered themselves to any passers by. I rolled off, hearing my dried sticky cum attest to last night's activities. I reach for the remote again and unfroze him.

"You think of the hottest things, "he said. Instead of anything so involved or intense, we spent most of Sunday lolling about in bed, savoring the last few moments until we had to return to the prison the next day. We discussed a more semi-permanent arrangement between the two of us. He even suggested last night's position. I considered it, thoughtfully.

The next morning, we arose early and we headed out to my car and we started the long drive back to the prison. He was in his chains and uniform which had otherwise laid on the floor. I wore my uniform which had also laid on the floor. Fortunately, they did not get mixed up.

Becker came back to life as we turned up the driveway to the prison. He took in a deep breath. "Great weekend, chief. I'd grope you good-bye, but I'm a little tied up here." Nothing like prison humor. "Think about it, man." The guards took him out and escorted him into the prison, presumably for a cavity search. And I knew that he'd probably enjoy it.

I was in my office most of the morning, too tired to really make the rounds, and catching up on some paper work. Frank came in.

"So?" he asked with a toothy grin behind his beard.

I only smiled.

"That good, eh?"

"Very good," I said. "I won't be jogging anytime soon, that's for sure."

Frank laughed. "I knew you'd like it," he said. "We can get you Becker in here on extended loan, if you like. We can't let you take him home too often, but..."

"...at least this will be an incentive to work late?"

He grinned again, "Yeah, something like that." He cleared his throat and continued.

"Did you see the new file?"

"Yeah, this guy sounds like he was raised by wolves. Did he really do that to those other bikers? Chewed their ears off and then sodomize them like that?"

"Among other things. I've decided that you'll participate in the induction."

"I see," a little afraid.

They brought the man in. You could see the hate in his eyes, and the defiance in his stride. He still struggled a little with some of the guards. The first thing we had to do was to inject the Immobilizer into him. For this one, several guards had been assigned. Two of the guards had been armed with tranquilizer guns. We had a special dispensation from the governor and tacit approval from the ACLU. He was still fairly mellow, so when he was ordered to take his shirt off for the check up, he acceded pretty readily.

What a body this man had! From the checkout it turned out that he was 6'4" and 270#. He was pure mountain man. He had a big burly, hairy barrel chest that sat atop a paunch covered with fur. In fact, there was scarcely a square centimeter of this man's body that wasn't covered with some amount of black fur.

He had large thick arms, and the legs looked like wooden tree trunks. This man was probably part bear for real. My cock twitched. The last part of the health inspection included the insertion of the Immobilizer and the inoculants.

I picked up the air gun and poked it at the base of his spine. I injected it and stepped away. The mountain man, by the name of George 'Killer' Man killer. Go figure. What's in a name. He spun around quickly for such a large man. He bellowed and ranted. He brought his shackled wrists up and brought them down on the exam bench. He did raise his arms again and that was when I clicked the button on the remote.

Killer's rage was perfectly preserved, however frozen it was. I reached over to tap him on the chest, and he rocked slightly in place, but remained immobile in his rage and rant. I dismissed the rest of the staff, so that I could have this man to myself.

He should have been in the frozen yet pliable and conscious state, so that he would be conscious of everything that I was doing to him. I came close to him and started to fondle his furry chest, swirling my fingers in the dense hair on his breastbone, circling the edges of his large aureole. I reached up to his face. His head was shaved and his heavy beard accentuated his angry sneer. The last thing I did was to fondle his basket, which felt huge! His balls felt as big as chicken eggs, and I couldn't imagine how long his hose was.

There would be plenty of time for this man, and started to plan and fantasize.

I continued looking over George Man killer. After my weekend with Becker, I thought I'd be sated for a while, but my cock twitched at the sight of this mountain of a man, frozen before me.

His 6'4" burly frame stood before me, absolutely motionless. I knew he could hear and see me, as long a I remained in his field of vision, I'd set the controls for that. But for all purposes, he was a statue, organic flesh but as motionless as any piece of park sculpture and as vulnerable.

His huge arms were raised above his head about to be brought down on the stainless exam table. The look for pain and rage in his face was fabulous, it was like looking into a photo or some wax work figure. My cock was hard just looking at this mountain of a man brought low by a single "click" of a button. His legs were spread apart for stability, feet grabbing the floor solidly. His cock was huge and hung low, as were the two egg-sized balls behind it. I walked around George's silent statue and surveyed his ass, two twin globes of muscles, covered in the same dark hair over the rest of his body. I reached out and ran my hand softly over the flesh, feeling its warmth. George remained utterly still, but I could imagine the thoughts of rage going through his mind, being touched in such a way and unable to respond.

Walking back in front, I pushed the exam table out of the way, up against the wall. The effect made complete the vision of George as a piece of sculpture. No longer was he in an exam room, running rampant in pain and rage over his situation, he was now an exhibit in some private art gallery or a mannequin in some museum display, the noble savage in his native habitat.

I walked right up to George, my nose within inches of his bearded chin, staring into his eyes. "How you feeling Georgie, boy?" I tapped on his chest and George rocked back on forth on his huge bare feet....size 14s it looked like, wide and broad like the rest of him. He wobbled in place for a few moments, coming to a stand still. At this close range, I could even smell him, a slight hint of soap from the showers and under that, a scent of slight body odor. His skin was clean, his hair, too, though coarse. His body gave no hint of his inner emotions, but just around the eyes, I saw it, a slight hint, a flicker of something, rage or anger. I could see the lids narrow just a bit. Gods, George was strong! To fight the Immobilizer!

Well, to put him in his place, I walked over and grabbed the control. I thumbed a wheel and pressed a button. *CLICK* There, no doubt about it, George was solid now. I went over and pulled at his arm, it remained solidly in place. I looked deeply into his eyes, the same expression was there, but now no hint of the previous flicker of emotion. He was completely under, fully a statue.

I wheeled the exam table behind him and with a tap on his expansive chest pushed him onto it. George keeled over, landing atop the table, sending it sliding along the floor, his statuesque form rocking back and forth atop it. He looked silly, his legs spread wide, atop the table, his arms stretched above his head, his fist clenched, manacles at the wrists. The table slammed into the wall, coming to a complete stop. I walked over and looked down into George's immobile face. "Enjoy the ride, Georgie?" I taunted.

Nothing from him. "Well, don't worry, Georgie, we'll take good care of you here." Again, nothing.

I summoned the guards and told them to make sure everyone got a good view of George Man killer as he was wheeled back to his cell. I instructed them to leave George like this for a week, just to break him in.

On Wednesday I got a memo that made me sit up and take notice. There was a new modification of the Immobilizer. Along with its usual immobilizing effects, a new circuit was being used that allowed for verbal commands to be used. In other words, certain voices using certain key words would have the same effect as using the control box. And my voice was one that would activate the verbal commands. There was a long list of the technical details about the new circuitry. It was already in place, just needing to be activated by a signal from the towers. It used the prisoner's own neural pathways to allow the commands to be heard. Another detail, the prisoner could be commanded to follow simple commands whilst in an induced state. In other words, they'd still be frozen, mentally at least, but could be told to do something and they would obey.

My mind flashed instantly to Becker, doing whatever I bid him to do, unable to fight the commands. My cock got hard just thinking about it, stretching the fabric of my uniform. Then, while my mind was taking flight on Becker at my bidding, I thought of George.....Hm... George, still frozen in his cell, waiting for his week of initiation with the Immobilizer to be up. My mind raced at what I could do with that hulking body of his, the fun I could have, the dominance I could subject him to! My cock throbbed and jerked at the thought, I could feel a drop of pre-cum oozing along my leg.

I scanned the memo, looking for details as to when the new circuitry would be available and any training I'd need for it. At a special meeting next week, all the details would be made available.

On Friday I was on night shift, doing my rounds. I had to make up for the time lost with my weekend with Becker. I finally got to Man killer’s cell. He was there, still frozen in his pose of rage, but now his silent, still body was lost in the deep shadow of his cell. I looked around and then grabbed my flashlight. I flicked it on and ran the cone of light over George's body. Normally someone would jump at being flashed with light as I was doing with George... but under the influence of the Immobilizer, he didn't even twitch a muscle. His face still held its sneer and bellow of pain, the eyes still wide with rage at his treatment. I held the light directly in his eyes....not a blink, nothing. He was frozen, solid. I would have my time with him soon enough.

The training for the new circuitry with the Immobilizer came and went soon enough. It was easy, really. The prisoner's ears would act as the audio pick-up and would feed through the Immobilizer to various parts of the brain and its motor control sections. You could effectively control a prisoner with your voice. The control box was still necessary to make sure of the full range of controls available with the Immobilizer, but a prisoner could be frozen at just a word or made to do simple commands if you told them step by step what to do. Perfect, I thought!

I had Becker sent to my office, on the reasoning of some minor infraction. As soon as the door to my office was shut....

"FREEZE" I said. Becker halted in midstep, his face not even able to register surprise at what happened. I got up and walked around his immobile form. I pulled at his arm, which bent easily enough. My hand found its way down into his pants. Becker's cock was soft, yet if I pulled at it, it remained where it was.

"DEEP FREEZE" I said. There was no visible change. I pulled on Becker's arm again, but this time, it wouldn't bend, not even the fingers on that hand. He was solid as a real statue.

"UNFREEZE" I said. Becker slowly came back to life. He shuddered. "Oh, Chief.... what happened?" I couldn't tell if the shaking was from his surprise at what I just did to him or at the excitement of what just happened.

"A new program in the Immobilizer. Just trying it out." I explained.

"Whoa, what a rush! What does it do?" Becker asked.

"Allows me to control you through just my voice." I explained.

"You mean you don't need the box any more?"

"I still need the box, but my voice can do some if it. Watch.

FREEZE" Becker froze again. I walked around him, surveying my handy-work. He was effectively frozen. I stepped back and then said, "Walk over here, Becker" Becker did as he was ordered. He stopped inches from me.

"Kneel" I said. He did so.

"Unzip my pants and pull out my cock" Becker again obeyed. The expression on his face remained the same. "Suck on my cock." Becker obeyed, without the slightest hint of hesitation. His mouth was sliding up and down my hard member, making it slick with his own saliva. This was too much!

"DEEP FREEZE" I said. Becker froze, his mouth all the way down on my cock, his face buried in my pubic hair. My mind reeled with the possibilities for what I could do.

"UNFREEZE" Becker came to, he pulled off my cock, slowly, savoring the experience. "Chief, when can get another weekend alone? His mouth split in a wide grin, another of his famous leers.

"Enough of that!" I said, with a grin. "You'll get yours soon enough!" Becker stood up, adjust his own cock in his pants. It had grown quite hard.

"Okay," he said. "But just don't get too surprised at the next cafeteria riot!" He leered at me again.

"FREEZE" I said. He did. I summoned the guards and had them haul Becker way. "Leave him like that for 24 hours. He was insubordinate." The guards exchanged looks and smiled briefly. A wheeled table was brought and Becker was taken away, though I could imagine his thoughts, even in his frozen state.

I was wondering what I could arrange for George when he provided me with a suitable reason for singling him out for treatment. Another small riot, this time in the yard where the prisoners were playing basketball. I hadn't known that Man killer was going to do anything, so this caught be by surprise.

The guards on duty and I walked out onto the blacktop of the outside sports area. It was spooky at first, walking amongst the frozen body, each caught in some pose, so life-like, so real. I took my time, savoring the moment, pretending I was looking for the culprit. There was so much going on outside, it was hard to tell where things had started. I threaded my way amongst the prisoners, all of them big guys, lots of muscles, frozen in the midst of playing a game. It was on the far side of the court that we found Man killer and his victim. Despite the speed of the Immobilizers and the watchful guards, Man killer had taken down another sizable prison and gotten in two good punches. Blood ran from the nose of his victim.

Man killer was kneeling on the guy's chest, holding him to the ground. Man killer’s left hand held the victim's shirt held up while his right hand was pulled back for another punch. His face was lit up with delight, he was *enjoying* the beating he was giving this guy.

"Okay," I said softly to the other guards. "This is it. Let's try this new program. DEEP FREZE." No outward change at all. I pulled at Man killer’s right arm, it wouldn't move. He was a block of stone for all practical purposes.

"Okay, good!" I said, louder this time. "You there," I said, pointing, "get this guy to the infirmary. The rest of you, round up the closest ones and let's get their stories. I'll handle Man killer."

Softly, I told Man killer to stand up. He did. The look of delight still on his face was unsettling, especially with the blood coating his right hand. "Follow me, Man killer." he obediently turned and followed me to the solitary confinement area. Once inside, I took him to one of the holding cells. These are large open cells for searching a prisoner before he ends up in solitary confinement. We were both in the cell. I felt fairly safe. "Strip." I said. He proceeded to slowly take off his prison uniform. I looked around and found one of the controls. Just in case, I thought.

"UNFREEZE" At the word, Man killer’s right arm came down with startling speed and attempted to hit something. The look of delight on his face was lost and replaced with confusion.

"Huh?" He grunted, confused. "Aw, shit! You bastards fuckin' turned me off again!" His huge head swung around and surveyed the room quickly. His eyes narrowed when he saw he and I were the only ones in the cell. Then he got that terrible look on his face, that look of glee. "You fuckin' bastard! You're the one who fucked with me the first day here! Called me Georgie boy and put that fuckin' implant thing in me! I'm gonna cream your ass good, you piece of goddam shit-eatin'...."

"FREEZE" I said. Man killer shut up, though his mouth was still open, caught as he was mouthing his tirade at me. I walked up to him, surveying him like a buyer surveys a piece of art.

"You have to learn, Georgie," I drawled "that there are rules here. We're in charge, and you're not!" I finished my slow circle of his body, coming back in front of him and looking him right in the eyes. I reached out and gave a shove to his chest. His 300lb plus body went over like a ton of bricks and hit the floor with a sickening crash. His face still held that expression of glee, though I knew he must be in agony.

"You have to realize, Georgie boy, you can't do anything once you're immobilized. Not unless we want you to." I knelt down by his prone body. "And now, I want you to."

"Man killer, up onto your knees." Man killer did this, his body moving slowly but surely under the influence of the Immobilizer. I stepped close to him. "Unzip my pants." His hands went up and fumbled with the zipper, finally opening it. "Pull out my cock" Again, he fumbled but did it. "Suck me off"

I could swear there was the slightest hesitation, just the briefest moment. But this his mouth went down on my cock, already hard at what I was doing to Man killer. He coarsely slide his mouth up and down my cock, letting the saliva dribble around his mouth. He wasn't very good, I admit, but given his was under the influence of the Immobilizer, I could guess why.

With a bit of fine tuning and patience, I soon had George sucking me pretty well. I stopped him and grabbed a chair, then let him return to sucking on me. Just having his huge body work at my command was nice. All those muscles turning and twisting at my command. I could hardly believe that I was having this huge bear of a man sucking me off. I had to take it one step farther.

"Stop." Man killer obeyed, returning to his kneeling position, and waiting. "Stand up, Man killer." He did. I moved the chair beside him. "Put your left foot on the chair. He did. I took his right arm and rested it on the back of the chair. "Take some spit and rub your own asshole." He dutifully obeyed. Some how that strange look of glee on his face gave me the idea he was enjoying this. "Bend over at the waist." Again he did so.

I came up from behind him and fingered his ass. It was tight, just the way I like it. I'm sure this boy was straight as they come, but he was about to get the fucking of his life. I plowed my cock into his ass, watching his face all the time. That same look of glee was there, though I could imagine what was really going on with him. "DEEP FREEZE" I said. Man killer’s body went solid. I could feel it, intimately connected to him as I was. I started to vigorously fuck his ass, pumping away and watching this huge, hulking hair-covered man take what I was giving him, fucking his ass raw, plowing into him, and thrusting my cock deep into his warm, waiting body. He couldn't do a thing about it, he was just a statue now. He could and would be abused by any one who wanted to do anything with him. And right now I was fucking his ass and loving every minute of it. My thighs beat upon his bare ass-cheeks, slapping them, hitting them. I loved the sound it made, echoing in the large empty cell we were in.

Here was Man killer, one of the biggest, fiercest men in this joint being fucked raw and there wasn't a think he could do about it. I grabbed his hips from behind and plunged even deeper into him, letting my cock reach to his inner most parts. I could finally feel myself ready to shoot, ready to pump my load into his ass. I grabbed his hips in an ever deeper grip, letting my nails dig into his solid flesh. He didn't flinch, he was my unknowing statue now. I shot my load in a long echoing groan of pleasure that rebounded off the bare walls of the cell.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and composed myself after fucking George so soundly. I decided to leave him as he was, frozen, one leg up on a chair and ass easily presented to anyone who came by. Down the hall I told one of the guards, "Man killer should be checked up on every so often, spread the word around." The guard entered the cell, where I believe I heard the clink of a belt buckle.

And so things remained for a week. Most of the guard staff availed themselves upon George, including a small party in his cell that later went out for drinks on Friday night.

I stayed behind that night to try to catch up on some work. I looked up from my desk and saw the dark, ominous clouds in the distance. I saw glints of fireworks inside them. The radio said that much of the county was under a thunderstorm warning, to expect lots of high winds, thunder, lightning and hail. Cool, I thought.

Anyway, the winds kicked up and all of the sudden a curtain of water shot forth from the sky. I saw some of the outside statuary get drenched immediately, and it wasn't until then that I became concerned about the well-endowed men inside the epoxy and shellac. My private reverie was interrupted by a crash of thunder. All of the sudden, a bolt of lightning came out of the sky and struck the main transmitter.

"Oh, shit," I said. All of the sudden I heard the riot alert klaxon. I grabbed my gun and the phone to call the watch guard. "What's going on?" I asked.

"The lightning struck the transmitter people and created a power surge. The transmitter is emitting an overpowering mobility signal. Almost every-one, except on the outside the wall, is running around free. Even Man killer."

My heart stopped a minute. The most violent single man in the state penal system was running around free. Shit. "Issue every guard an IG. I'll meet you at the admin. Building entrance." An IG, or immobilizer gun, was to be used in case of emergency. Like this one. You had to get within 15' of the prisoner so it would override any other signal. The problem was that we hadn't used them in a real situation yet.

I rushed down to the entrance with a pistol and IG. Ten guards and a janitor were there to meet me. Everyone, even the janitor, had an IG. We needed a plan, we had to immobilize all the prisoners while another team had to repair the transmitter and the electronics. I sent the electronics expert with two guards. I headed for the infirmary, where it seemed that though it was locked up tight, they were partying plenty hard.

I waved the other guards to other parts of the infirmary. There were fairly few people in there, to my knowledge, but we needed to have it secured as a fall back position. I walked forwards and heard a major scuffle occurring in a back room. I peered around the corner and saw Jack Peterson, the noted supremacist, and the man he was sucking while frozen, in the middle of a fist fight. Despite his small size, Jack wasn't doing too badly, but he didn't look like he'd last. I pulled up the IG and shot it at Jack's opponent. I stepped out from behind the doorway. Jack, focused on his opponent, was a little afraid at first, until he tapped at his chest. His opponent didn't flinch, and Jack tapped a little bit harder and he rocked a little bit. He looked over and saw me. "Hey cool, thanks, man."

"No problem, Jack."

"He was about to beat my ass. Well, now I can repay the favor." With that, he got a look of sick glee on his face, and pulled his fist back and let fly towards the man's jaw. Just at that moment, I zapped him frozen, but not in time to prevent him from making contact. His momentum kept him moving forward, so that both of them tipped over. His opponent, called Lou tipped backward, his fists out in front of him. Jack fell forward, his fist impacting Lou again, and finally resting on his side, his arms supporting him kind of like doing a pushup.

I scooted over and picked Jack up by the shoulders, and Lou by the arms. Lou had a fantastic body, and for a moment, I allowed myself to fondle him, pulling his penis up to point at Jack. The other guards came in and reported to me. Seven convicts had been neutralized. We had lots more work to do.

Given that the infirmary and admin. Buildings were secured, that only left the two cell blocks, the training building and the main yards to be secured. From what I could tell, the electrician hadn't made much head way with the tower and the three guards surrounding the tower were doing what they could to keep the tower secure. Until the tower was repaired, we'd have to shut the cons all off one by one. The guards at the tower had managed to turn off a few of them. They managed to look like very aggressive gargoyles, caught in motion while running. A few had tipped over, looking like detailed, life-sized plastic soldiers, and equally rigid.

The remaining two teams had started in the barracks. One tried to move forward into the barracks while the other tried to venture into the barracks. I peeked inside, and I saw very little progress being made. Only two or three cons near the doors had been immobilized, most of the others were running amok in the building.

I ran in and grabbed one of the frozen men and dragged him back to the door just as a bed-frame missed my head. Fortunately, he was a large man, wide bodied and tall, maybe 6'2" 250 pounds. He had copious hair showing on the parts of his arms that I could see. "STAND AT ATTENTION," I said to him. He remained in his pose, trying to run from the door, his glassy eyes peering off into space. The others helped me repose the convict so that he stood up straight. I directed the others to wrap his arms around my neck. I was going to use the convict as a shield. He faced me, more or less, his barrel chest right up against mine, his torso felt more like a firm wall than a person. His leg was in my crotch, rubbing me every time I moved forward. My head swooned, but I started to move forward, my men moving behind me. We moved in, my men flanking me. We went a few feet at a time, securing the corridor a few cells at a time. The guards were able to freeze what prisoners were in the cell while I covered them from the convicts in the center of the circular building. Once the cells were secured we formed a circle around the convicts in the center, and started to walk slowly towards the center, freezing the remaining convicts who had already indicated their surrender by putting their arms up.

I removed the prisoner from around my neck and let him fall to the ground with a sickening thud. He looked as if he were trying in vain to hug someone who was trying to get away from him. At this point, all we really had left to do was to secure the remainder of the campus.

I left the convict pathetically hugging air, his eyes staring inhumanly off into space, and headed for the main campus. There were convicts here and there, scurrying about, some fighting, and some looting. We locked this building and kept a guard posted to keep anyone from coming out or entering. My team and I swept out to the admin. Building and formed a sort of net, watching for any convicts that were still mobile. The remaining team joined with us, and we were able to extended our net.

We slowly made our way across the campus and zapped the occasional convict. When frozen, some even tipped over due to their own momentum. Others had surrendered when we froze them. They looked like the prisoners in that Goya painting about Napoleon's invasion of Spain. Their looks of concern, fear, guilt and shame were captured in their frozen state.

We had quickly secured the camp, including the prisoners who were trying to escape by climbing the wall. We froze them also, but would worry later about who to get them down off the wall. One of the guards suggested climbing up after them and prying them free, allowing them to drop like a sack of potatoes to the ground. I'd try to come up with something else.

I was relieved that we'd accomplished everything so fast and relatively easily. But I was concerned; there was one man that I didn't remember seeing: George. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I had a bad feeling that he was still at large. None of the others seemed to know where he was, either.

I went to the solitary confinement hut, and didn't see a soul there. I left the hut and immediately felt the wind get knocked out of me. When I regained my senses, I realized the only person powerful enough to throw me around was Man killer. I felt his big hands close around my throat. I went fishing for my IG, hoping it was still there.

Losing consciousness, I saw George's face, gleaming with the rage, delighting in the pain he was causing me. I felt this small cylindrical thing in my hand and kept squeezing it until the rocking and violent motion stopped. I banged his arms to the side which let me drop to the floor. I panted, labouredly, audibly until I could breathe normally again. I sat on the floor and looked up at George Man killer. He had this terrible gleam in his eyes, a combination of delight and rage. I stood up, leaning on the wall for support, and looked into his eyes which stared at the empty space where I had been, where in his frozen mind I still was, getting the life choked out of me.

I grabbed him at the forehead and pushed him back. He plopped on his back, and rocked back and forth. His legs were up at different angles; his neck arched up, his arms grasping at empty air. With my pocket knife, I cut the shirt off his body, revealing his large, stocky and impossibly hairy chest. He could do nothing to stop me. I undid my pants and start beating off. I beat off thinking of all the things I could do to him, the things I had done to Becker, the things I could do to the other cons. But I was just glad to be alive. I thought of all the things I could do to these men, thankful for Immobilizer technology, thinking of being able to get close to these men, these defenseless, quiet men who couldn't protect themselves. These quiet, still men who were always open to any sort of adventure or experience, who were like detailed museum pieces, seemingly devoid of any life or personality, otherwise malleable like clay in my hands. I sat on George's chest and rubbed my balls across it in a rocking motion, feeling the squishy quality of the skin, and softness of his belly. I stood up again, and let fly my seed, issuing forth a great groan. My cum flied up his torso, some of it even spattering his face, small goblets of cum on his eyelashes. He didn't flinch at all, almost like ejaculating on nothing more than concrete.

I replaced myself in my pants and left the hut, savoring my reverie. I had to figure out the next thing to do with the crew and return the prison to normal.

It didn't take long to end the riot. As more and more of the cons fell to our IGs, the others realized their fate as statuary was only a matter of time, which we had on our side and they did not. A few fought to the end, ending up in Herculean poses of resistant, anger and frustration written on their frozen faces. Most surrendered in more submissive poses, arms up and faces passive.

The clean up was fairly easy. The bodies of the frozen cons were stacked or otherwise stored 'til we could identify them and move them back to their proper barracks. Most ended up laid out on the floor, stacked one upon the other like some many planks of lumber. It took several days to sort through them all and I often noticed that many of the bodies were left in rather suggestive poses, the guards were having a fun time while the cons were at their most vulnerable.

Calling in extra help to sort out the bodies was decided against. It was take too much time and cost too much. We had the man power here to do it, it was just gonna take a while longer. The cons weren't hurting or otherwise suffering in their statuesque state. At the level they were frozen with the IGs, the chemical process of their bodies were stopped, suspended and simply waiting to be re-started. When they were, the cons would awake to being safely in their cells, not in the midst of the prison riot.

During the next few days, we simply lugged bodies about, tossing them around like sacks of grain, but being careful to not hurt or break them. They were still pose-able, to be sure. Like I said, the guards often took advantage of some of their favorites whilst in this vulnerable state. I couldn't help but smile when I passed by the cells of certain cons who were left in suggestive poses, their mouths open wide, their eyes staring glassily into space, their arms and hands out from their bodies, grasping at nothing, just waiting for someone to slip their cock or balls into the open hands. Just like I'd done with Becker a few weeks ago. Thinking of Becker, where was he?

I found him in his cell already. He was still frozen, though, I'm sure, not as he was caught in the riot. His arms were above his head, supporting his body as he leaned against the wall of his cell. His blue prison fatigues were sloppily re-buttoned, letting bits of that brown body fur poke through. My heart kicked up its beat as I viewed him. His legs were spread out, like he was being frisked, his head bowed down, his eyes closed. He had that famous leer on his face. Someone had been having fun with my favorite toy, to be sure. I peeked down the hallway of his cell, making sure I was alone. Hell, the whole barracks was empty. Perfect, I thought!

I leaned Becker's body back, undoing the buttons and slipping them off his body, trying not to disturb his pose too much. It'd been a while since I'd enjoyed my favorite toy and I wanted to make this memorable.

Soon I had Becker back in position against the wall, his blue fatigues down around his ankles, his hairy body exposed for my viewing pleasure. I ran my hands over his furry back and stomach, pausing to caress each nipple. His expression remained the same, that same seductive leer. "Miss me, boy?" I whispered in his ear. No movement, nothing. I knew he was frozen in there but I took his silence to mean assent.

I started to grind my groin in his furry ass, those two beautiful globes lightly covered in brown fur. I lightly fingered his 'hole, teasing it, probing it. With a dollop of spit, I lubed it up and pulled out my own cock, now hard and solid as Becker was. "Gotta present for you, boy!" I again whispered in Becker's ear, as my body leaned against his. He was hard and solid, yet warm, like a lumpy mattress. I quickly entered him and started thrusting, slowly at first, then with greater and greater force, our two bodies rocking together. My breathing grew heavy, deeper with the pleasure at fucking Becker again. God, I had missed this. I need to take him home again, soon.

Then I remembered the voice command circuitry in the Immobilizer unit. I tried it out, whispering in his ear "Becker, unfreeze." I felt with my own body, his heart take a beat, then another. There was a slow inhale of breath, then another. Becker came back to life.

Becker let out a slow, deep breath, then suddenly yelped. For him, he was still in the middle of the riot. I used the weight of my own body to hold him down, using my own arms and legs to cover his. Whispering in his ear, I said, "Easy, boy! It's me! You’re safe!"

He blinked a couple times, turning his head to look at me. "Chief? What about the riot?" Even as he spoke, his body, with a mind of its own started to accept my cock, his muscles milking it, squeezing it. "Ohhh...yeahh! Yea, Chief.... fuck me good.... ohh... that feels soooo good!"

I continued to pump his ass, sliding slowly up and down his back, letting the warmth return to him, feeling his muscles soften from their days of enforced rigidity. "Damn, Chief" he sighed, giving my cock another squeeze with his ass "you know how to wake a man but good!"

"I always take care of my good ones!" I whispered in his ear. "You know that, Becker."

He just sighed and let me take his body. He submitted himself to me "Yeah, Chief! Make me your fuck-toy! Use me! Use me, but good!"

"Will do, boy!" I said. I continued to pump his ass and soon, shot my load into him. He squirmed at the feeling of my hot load going deep into his belly. Just as his body arched, taking my load and near his own orgasm, I'm sure, I whispered those fateful words into his ear, "DEEP FREEZE"

Becker's body obeyed instantly, going solid on me. He and I were standing up, away from the wall but his arms were still raised. We stood like that, locked together, cock to ass for several heartbeats. Then slowly, ever so slowly, Becker's body slid forward, easing off my slick cock, pulled by his own inanimate weight.

Slowly, but gaining speed, his body fell forward, still frozen. With a "pop" sound, my cock pulled free of his ass as his body fell against the wall with a heavy "thud."

Becker must have been surprised at my decision to freeze him again, for he had the opportunity to open his eyes, wide. Now he just stared, a frozen fuck toy, his fatigues down around his ankles, a slight trace of cum dribbling out his ass.

I stood him up again, pulled his fatigues back into place, buttoning them. I patted him on he ass as I left his cell. "Don't worry, boy. Next weekend I can manage it, you and I are going home!" He just stared, blankly ahead. I left him like that, getting back to work.

The prison fell back into its normal routine after the riot, it was like it had never happened. Oh, sure there were reminders. Mainly in the reports on how to handle the situation should another lightning strike happen. Along with suggestions about improved technology and safety for the transmitter, other suggestions about handling the IGs and ways of isolating the prisoners passed my desk. All the routine paperwork for this situation.

I'd nearly forgotten about it when we had a situation alert in the prison medical center. Getting over their quickly, I walked into the usual frozen tableau of male bodies caught in action. I took my time, wandering through them, looking for the center of the disturbance. I let my hands brush the occasional cock or chest. Letting my hand wander into a prison fatigue suit, I played a bit with some chest hair before moving on.

In the center of it all was Man killer. Why was I not surprised? What was surprising was his actions. He had a fellow prisoner in his brawny grip, a headlock. With the other hand he was holding an extension cord, the end of which was just bare wires while the other end was plugged into a wall socket.

"What's up?" I quizzed one of the doctors.

"Not sure." said the doctor as he surveyed the scene. "We were doing our routine physical stuff, when we heard a commotion. Then the Immobilizers activated and this is what we got."

I surveyed the scene, trying to comprehend Man killer’s motives. His huge body towered above us, but still as a statue. He was holding the other con in a headlock with his right arm, while the left one was grasping the extension cord. The usual maddeningly look of glee on his face was there.

I decided to try something. I signaled to the guards to get their IGs ready. One suggestion was for guards to be carrying IGs from now on. I stepped back and the barked out "Man killer, FORWARD SLOW"

The Immobilizer worked like a charm. Slowly Man killer came to life and continued doing whatever his plan was. Incredibly we watched him bring the bare wires of the extension cord to the back of the next man he was holding in the headlock, right to the spot where the man's Immobilizer was implanted.

I'd seen enough. "Man killer, DEEP FREEZE" Man killer froze on order, his body going back into statuesque immobility. "Doc," I asked, "what was he doing? What would happen if that man's Immobilizer got a jolt?"

"I'm not sure." the doctor responded. "We've never had a test done on it like that."

I signaled to the guards to pull Man killer and his victim part. The two frozen cons were wheeled off. Man killer to the Warden's office, the other to his cell.

I didn't think much of it, except for writing up the report when another incident happened, this time in the mess hall. And again, Man killer was at the center of it. And again, he had another electrical cord and another man in a headlock. After separating them, I went with Man killer to the Warden's office. I wanted to know what this asshole was up to.

We sent for the guards and had Man killer shackled before we unfrozen him. We'd learned that he was quick, almost too quick for either the remotes or even a voice command. It was amazing just how fast this huge hunk of man could move. None of us in the Warden's office were slouches, we'd all gone through physical training for this duty and kept in good shape, but Man killer still took us by surprise every so often. Even now, in his frozen state, he towered above the tallest of us, by at least 5 inches. His barrel chest stretched his prison fatigues to the limit, bits of that jet black hair poking through. Warden Norris greeted me. "Good to have you here, John. We do have a problem." he said, gesturing to Man killer’s towering yet frozen form. I raised an eyebrow in response to his statement.

He tossed a folder at me. "This is from the people who developed the Immobilizer. We asked them about Man killer’s apparent actions." Warden Norris looked over at Man killer again, eyeing him, as if he wondered if Man killer could hear this conversation. "It seems that Man killer was trying to short out or overload the Immobilizer implant. We guess he got the idea from the most recent prison riot."

"Could something like that be done?" I again raised an eyebrow. "And what would happen if he succeeded?"

"From what these people say," the Warden said wearily "yes, it can be done. Our guess is that Man killer was using other cons to test out his theory, using the extension cords to apply electricity to short out the Immobilizer."

"Only one course of action now." Warden Norris pressed a button on his desk. The outer office door opened and a slight, dapperly dressed man came in. He was in a dark suit, carrying a brief case. The only thing not conservative on him was the trim yet full beard on his chin. His whole demeanor screamed "lawyer."

"This is Mr. Thomas, with the ACLU" explained Warden Norris. "He's here to monitor the situation." I shook hands with the shyster. I was surprised at the firm grip. Looking more closely, I saw how the dark suit hid some of the curves and bulges of muscle on this slight man. Hmm....I grinned inwardly to myself.

"Just to monitor" Thomas said, picking up before Warden Norris could say more. "We agree, after much deliberation" he explained "that the situation with Mr. Man killer is unique and the promise of the Immobilizers in handling this situation warrants taking this to the next level." Yup, he's a lawyer, I thought to myself.

"Next level?" I asked. "What `next level'"

"John," explained the Warden Norris "we've never had anyone like Man killer before, even here at Karn. There are contingency plans for such disruptive prisoners, but 'til now, they've only been plans. Man killer will be the first person whom we've done this with: permanent immobilization."

"While many of my colleagues find such an idea distasteful," added Thomas, "they do agree that it seems the only way of containing Mr. Man killer."

"Eventually," continued the Warden "Man killer would have succeeded in shorting out an Immobilizer and then he would have shorted out his own and probably escaped. We can't have that. The only alternative at this point is to permanently immobilize him, since he would only keep trying to achieve his goal of freedom. Man killer running free in society is not a thought any of us would want to contemplate." Warden Norris looked directly at me "I read your report on how you got Man killer under control during the prison riot. I think you'd agree."

For a moment, the tight feeling of Man killer’s fingers around my neck came back. I could only nod my agreement.

Thomas was standing next to the frozen figure of Man killer, he looked almost child-like next to the huge hulk of him. "Shall we then?" he said?

"Certainly, Mr. Thomas," said the Warden. "If you'd just step away from Man killer." I noticed how Thomas was eyeing the silent, still figure of Man killer, he had one hand resting on Man killer’s outstretched left arm. Hm... I'm going to have to talk to Mr. Thomas later on....

Everyone stepped back as the guards drew the IGs. We were taking no chances this time. Warden Norris aimed the remote, it's "click" audible throughout the silent room. I noticed we were all holding our breaths.

Man killer blinked, once, then twice, his huge left arm hung in space for a second then slowly came to his side. "So you fuckers got me again, eh?" he said as his thick head surveyed the room. He focused on Thomas for a second. "Who's this jerk?" he said with a nod of his head toward Thomas.

"Man killer, this is Mr. Thomas of the ACLU. He is your counsel." Norris explained flatly. "He's here to make sure everything is done by the book."

Man killer laughed, "Yeah, fuckin' right! Like the last shyster you guys hired for me. Look where the fuck it got me!"

Thomas spoke up. "George Man killer, the case against you was so airtight no lawyer in the country could have made a case for you. The testimony of the witnesses and of your victims did that. And your own statements of unrepentence for your crimes made both under oath and before the court make us take these steps. So, I am here to inform you....." Thomas was cut off in a stream of invective from Man killer.

Then he was frozen, his mouth open, caught in the middle of his tirade. I looked about and saw both guards and Norris aiming at Man killer with their IGs and the remote. Whew!

And so it went. Over the next few days, I got reports from Warden Norris about the situation. Man killer was hauled before a judge and unfrozen, only to have the same thing happen again. But this time, he wasn't frozen. He was told of his fate. And like the sonofabitch he is, he didn't accept it. Too bad. I understand when he was frozen again, he was giving graphic details about the judge's ancestry.

He was hauled back to Karn and outfitted with a special collar that went around his neck, essentially guarding the Implant from any signal, so he was now frozen, permanently. As long as he wore the collar, he couldn't be turned on. Even if the collar was removed, he'd still have the Implant to control him. I passed by his cell every so often, viewing him. He'd been made to look somewhat respectable. He was upright, legs slightly apart, his arms folded across his chest, but with that same killers gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his face, as if he'd have the last laugh. His whole posture was one of "c'mon asshole, just try and fuck with me!" But his stillness was uncanny, so absolutely still. No blink of an eye, no rise of his chest, not a twitch of a muscle. He was absolutely frozen.

I was looking over Man killer one night, putting in hours to make up for a weekend with Becker, when a thought struck me. Thomas! The ACLU shyster. He'd love to see this. I rushed back to my office, made a quick phone call and strolled back to Man killer’s cell.

The one window in Man killer’s cell was letting moonlight in, bathing his still body in silver-white light. His absolute stillness and the lighting made it seem as if were a statue. His normally tan skin took on a silver quality. The lights from the hallway lit only his lower body, but left his face in shadow, especially his eyes. The lack of any expression from his face, even his eyes heightened his statuesque form, made his stillness seem even more absolute.

I opened his cell and went in, walking about his body. It was eerie how still he was. I'd gotten use to the prisoners being frozen, but somehow, his absolute immobilization was striking. I remembered how lively he could be, I remembered the tightening of his fingers around my neck. I had to test something. I stood close to him, only coming up to his mid-chest. I raised a hand and struck him, hard across the face. Owwww! Damn! My hand stung with the force of the blow. The skin-on-skin contact made a slap that echoed through the empty barracks.

But there wasn't a twitch from Man killer. He just stood there. Absolutely oblivious to the treatment I was giving him. For all anyone knew, he could have been made of stone. That aroused me, even more than his motionlessness. I started to let my hands wander across his rigid body. I felt him all over, how his muscles strained the fabric of his prison jumper. I drew a deep ragged breath. My cock twitched in my pants, straining at the material.

It was different now, from the other times I had Man killer under my control. He couldn't hear or see me now, had no idea I was there. George Man killer was completely under our thumb now. His will was broken. No matter how much he struggled there was nothing he could do. He was completely at our mercy, reduced from hulking killer to mere object, from rampaging murderer to mere possession, all 6 feet 4 inches of him.

The other times, I knew that eventually he'd be turned back on and given free will. But now, there was no such mercy. George was turned off, for good. Oh, he could be revived and probably would be, for certain occasions, but those would be rare.

And for these few special moments, he was mine to feast upon. I let my hands roam over his rugged frame, feeling his taut body, the fur all over him, the tension of his muscles, frozen solid. I stood in front of him and slowly undid his fatigues, button by button.

"And just what are you doing with my client?" a voiced boomed out, shattering the quiet of the whole building. From the shadows of the hallway, Thomas walked out, quietly. He was dressed in jeans and black boots, a leather jacket over a white T-shirt with the logo of a local gym embossed upon it.

"Aw shit, Thomas!" I rasped out. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"So did you with your phone call!" he said back, though his voice held a hint of humor to it. "What's this all about?" As he stepped into the cell, he eyed Man killer. "So this is what became of Man killer? I saw him frozen before the judge, but nothing after that." Even as he spoke he couldn't take his eyes off of Man killer’s still body. One hand reached out and stroked at his still form, following the curves of his arms and muscles.

"Well, let's just say I saw how you were looking at him the day we first met." I said, "And thought you'd like to see how he looks without a lot of prying eyes around, so you can take a closer examination."

"You noticed that, eh?" Thomas said, a trace of huskiness to his voice. His breathing was becoming faster and deeper as he let his fingers wandered over the Man killer/statue. God, it was hard to not think of him that way now, as silent and still as he was, even with us fingering him.

"Lets just say I agree with the interest you have in your client, counselor!" I shot him a wry grin. He tore his eyes away for a moment to flash me a grin back.

"So, he's really frozen and oblivious to us, now?" Thomas asked, still not quite believing.

"Sure! Watch!" I said. Having undone the buttons on his fatigues, I reached inside and started to play with Man killer’s cock and balls. There wasn't a twitch to his face, nor did his body stir. Man killer remained silent to our explorations of his body. Thomas reached in and let his hand slide around the furry belly and chest of Man killer. His face broke in a wide grin. "Fantastic" he muttered. "Are you sure we're alone now?" I just nodded. "Don't worry, counselor. The guards work for me!"

In short order, Man killer’s fatigues were down around his ankles. It took a bit of maneuvering to get the sleeves off his arms, but it was done.

"What next?" I asked. He was enjoying this as much as I was.

"Uh.... strip him completely." Thomas said, his voice very husky. I want to see this stud totally naked!" SO, we had to get Man killer’s sneakers off of him. That required lowering him to the floor. It took a bit, but we did so. Even being careful, we dropped him the few last feet. He hit the floor with a meaty "thwack" and simply rolled over onto his back. That same stare on his face, though it was illuminated in moonlight. He didn't blink or flinch one bit. In fact it almost looked comically! Man killer bare-assed naked lying on his back on the floor, his massive arms folded across his chest, that same crazy smile or sneer on his face.

In a few moments, he was fully naked. I kicked his shoes and socks into a corner, along with his blue prison fatigues. Thomas just stared at the giant man, letting his hands trace the heavy curves of muscles on him. "Ain't he something?" I asked. Thomas merely nodded. He was really taken by the size and strength of Man killer. "And he's all ours now." We can do anything we want to him!" I declared quietly in the cell.

"I've wanted to fuck his ass for a while" Thomas said, bluntly. "Ever since I read his file and then met him in person. He may be one of the worst killers incarcerated, but God I want his ass!"

"Then help me roll him over and it's yours, Counselor!" I said. We both grinned at each other. With in a few moments and some grunting, Man killer’s still form was on its chest, that sweet bubble ass presenting itself to us. I slapped it a few times and then spread those cheeks, thinking of how I did this to Becker last weekend. I turned to see Thomas out of his jacket and jeans, peeling off his T-shirt. Man, did he have a nice body. Small, but well defined and muscular with a dusting of dark fur on his chest, shoulders and arms. "You ain't half bad yourself, Counselor." I grinned, hoping he'd pick up on my thoughts.

"You think so? And by the way, the name's Stephen. Call me Steve." He posed a bit for me, showing off his muscles. Nice sight. I'd love to freeze him sometime. Then a thought came to me.

"Steve," I started, not sure how to suggest this "I know you want to screw Man killer...." I paused.

"Yeah?" he said.

"How 'bout you letting me screw you whilst you screw him?"

"Sounds hot to me, man!" His face split into a grin.

With a few energetic rubs, Steve's cock came to life and was ready to plow into Man killer’s prone body. He eased into him and was soon plowing away at that awesome ass. As I watched him, I ditched my own clothes and lubed up my own cock and came behind him.

I was close and could feel the heat of his body, warm and human next to mine. As I guided my own cock near his 'hole I could feel the "thump-thump-thump" of his heart with my whole body. His breathing was deep, his chest and back rising and falling in slow rhythm. Soon I was atop him, and sliding my own lubed cock into him. He started plowing Man killer’s ass again, as I started my own plowing, feeling my cock go deeper and deeper into him. The bucking of his hips and my own rhythm so coordinated so that we were moving as one.

I rode that lawyer as he rode Man killer. Our hips swiveled as one thrusting deep into the other. Our hearts beat as one, our lungs worked together as the heat of our exertion plastered our hot bodies together with sweat. The slap of naked skin on naked skin filled the room, his hips beating in Man killer’s ass as my own hips beat into his sweat ass. Damn this guy was good! I loved the way his ass grabbed onto my cock milked it!

Then I felt and heard his heart quicken and his body tense for that first thrust of jism. He tensed and gave a primal scream and grabbed onto Man killer’s ass as he threw his load down that hairy 'hole. At almost the same time, my hormones kicked in and let loose with my load throwing it down his hungry 'hole. I grabbed onto his slight, muscular frame and rode it for all it was worth.

We both collapsed upon Man killer’s unknowing form, gasping for air. We lay gasping for air for I dunno how long. But as quickly as it had started it was over.

We put everything back as it had been. It took a while, especially to get Man killer back into his fatigues and upright.

A few weeks later, Steve was on my door step, wearing almost the same outfit as the night we fucked Man killer.

"C'mon in Steve" I said.

"I got your msg." he said, "so what's up?"

"I wanted to show you the full potential of the Immobilizer" I grinned "so I brought something home from you."

I lead him to the den of the house, where Becker was, stripped and waiting for us. His face was slack, eyes open and staring. One hand was out at waist level, palm up and fingers cupped, like it was waiting to hold something.

"Who's this?" Steve said as he slowly circled Becker's immobile body. He let a finger trace a muscle or line of fur.

"Just watch." I said. "Becker, UNFREEZE"

Becker did as told, the Immobilizer releasing his body. With a blink, his face drew back into his typical leer.

"Okay, Chief, who do you have for me tonight?"