This is an explicit fantasy of older-female-on-younger-male rape, perpetrated by two inmates in the depths of a women's prison during a riot.
Clint was 23 years old; lean, blond, and good-looking; an apprentice plumber recently out of trade school. He had skill and potential and earned an apprenticeship with the city's top plumbing contractor. His firm was hired for the most unique and difficult projects all over town, and Clint loved the work and the experience he was gaining. One day, he went with two senior plumbers to Thimore Penitentiary, a maximum-security women's prison, to replace aging water and drain lines in the basement of the facility.
Clint figured this would be just another job until the three plumbers arrived at Thimore. The high grey stone walls topped with concertina wire gave all of them a chill. Once inside the gate, they had to surrender their phones and wallets and keys for safekeeping. Then three guards, all of them tall and broad-shouldered women with no-nonsense attitudes, led the plumbers into the depths of the prison, through checkpoints and heavy metal doors and along sterile tan corridors. Clint could not help but notice that nearly all of the guards and other prison staff they encountered along the way were women.
They never passed near any cellblocks nor directly encountered any prisoners, but at one point they passed a long window to an outdoor exercise area. About a dozen female inmates, in grey-and-white striped prison clothing, were shooting hoops, lifting weights, and pounding on heavy bags. Every one of the inmates stopped what they were doing to gawk at the three plumbers passing by. Some whistled, some blew kisses, and some called out. Some of them were pretty. It was clear that most of their attention was directed at Clint. He felt both intimidated and thrilled at the same time.
The guards hustled the plumbers past the window and eventually led them into a steamy basement corridor where their tools and the replacement piping had already been delivered. The corridor smelled of rust and mold.
The plumbers got to work disconnecting and removing the old pipes and replacing them, as the guards stood by. The work was strenuous in the tight, dank place, but the plumbers were fast and efficient. Their work was all but complete when hell was suddenly unleashed just above them.
There was a loud bang that shook the walls, the shriek of multiple sirens and alarms--and then came angry shouts and cries, which grew louder and more numerous every second. It sounded like a riot. It had to be a riot!
The plumbers stopped working and glanced nervously at the ceiling, which was vibrating with the ruckus of footfalls and blows and things being smashed. It sounded like it was all happening directly above them, although they had to be several levels down in the building. But the guards seemed surprisingly calm, talking softly on their radios and nodding to each other.
"Stay calm," one of them said. "We have to leave here but we will get you out safely."
Clint picked up a big wrench, but a guard immediately took it away.
"I'm sorry sir, you can't carry that. Don't worry. We have weapons and we will keep you safe."
With two guards in front and the third in the rear, the three plumbers were led back along the basement corridor, the way they had come in, as the fearsome noises of the prison riot continued unabated above them.
Then--without warning--there was a loud whooshing sound, and a roiling white cloud burst into the corridor in front of them. Before they could react, it had rolled over them. Tear gas!
There was immediate agony in the gas--intensely burning eye pain and a cascade of tears incapacitated Clint. His throat contracted and he couldn't speak. He dropped to his hands and knees on the cold concrete floor.
He heard his coworkers grunting and cussing, and one of the guards was shouting "Keep going, keep going!" But how could they? They were all blinded and disoriented.
As quickly as it had come, the cloud of tear gas passed on by, and moments later the air in the corridor had cleared. But it gave Clint's eyes no relief and he kept them tightly closed against the pain.
"Help!" he croaked, still down on all fours. "Somebody help me!"
Then somebody did--reaching down to take Clint by the arm and help him to his feet.
"C'mon. This way."
It was a female voice. Clint thought it was one of the guards. She said nothing more, but grabbed a firm hold of the young apprentice's right bicep and began hustling him along the corridor. Still blinded and in pain, he let himself be guided forward.
Along the way they made several sharp turns into side passages, many more than Clint remembered from coming in. Maybe they had to do that in order to avoid the riot that was still roaring upstairs. But somehow it felt as if he was being led even lower down into the depths of the prison complex. He hoped they were going to the prison infirmary so he could get his eyes treated.
Instead, they arrived a quiet, damp room that smelled of old stale sweat and liniment, like a gym or a locker room. There were other women there; Clint could hear them speaking softly amongst themselves.
Something didn't seem right, but then his mystery guide said, "Let's fix them poor eyes o' yours, kid. Come over here with me."
She led Clint to some kind of wooden bench, and with gentle pressure on his shoulders got him to lie down on it, on his back. Then a cool, wet cloth was pressed over his eyes--giving him instant relief.
"That helps, don't it, sugar?" It was a different woman's voice. "Just don't ask what's in it!"
Clint reached to remove the cloth so that he could see what was happening, but the woman who had brought him there pulled his hand away.
"Leave that on there just a little longer--"
And then....WHOOMF!
Two large women sat down abruptly on Clint's chest and abdomen--straddling him and forcing the breath from his lungs! Startled, gasping, Clint was suddenly and tightly pinned to the bench beneath two large asses, and scissored between two pairs of powerful thighs--unable to move, let alone pull free!
The woman sitting on his chest leaned forward with a laugh and pressed a pair of enormous breasts, barely covered by a thin blouse or shirt, firmly into his face, while reaching out to take hold of his arms. Clint could smell her sweat and a trace of some kind of cheap cologne or body spray. He tried to yell out, but with his face pinned between the woman's ponderous boobs, his cries were muffled.
He felt other hands, surprisingly strong, taking hold of his wrists and ankles and pulling them down below the bench. He tried to resist, but before he fully understood what was happening, his arms and legs had been lashed to the legs of the bench with some kind of wire.
He was now well and truly immobilized, bound securely to the bench at both ends of his body, with his arms restrained and his legs splayed.
The two women who had been sitting on him now rose, one of them still holding the cool wet cloth against his eyes.
"Thanks for the help," he heard one of them say.
"You've got an hour, hour-and-a-half max," replied a third person, another woman.
Then Clint heard her leave the room, her footsteps fading away.
"What's going on? HELP! Somebody HELP me!" he yelled as he continued to struggle.
He tried to free his arms and legs, but the wire that bound him only cut more deeply into his skin. He was tied to a weightlifting bench: solid and strong and bolted firmly to the floor. He could not budge it. Neither could he lift himself off it; he could barely twist his body from side to side.
"HELP! HELP!" he shouted. His cries echoed around the room, but it was obvious that beyond there, they were completely drowned out by the noises of the riot directly above them.
"Nobody outside this room can hear ya, kid," said the woman who was holding the cloth over his eyes.
"But we can, and it's fucking annoying," said the other one. "So simmer down now--or we'll stuff something nasty in your mouth to shut you up!"
Confused and angry, with all his muscles tense, Clint forced himself to quiet down.
"That's it. No sense riling yerself up, kid. We're not gonna hurt ya if ya behave."
