When Matthew had cleaned the truncheon, he handed it back to the cop. The cop made him get down, on his hands and knees again, and clean his own come up from under the table, where he had blown it. There was a little blood in it, Matthew noticed, though it was probably from where the cop had hit the head of his cock. It wouldn’t be from his balls. His balls would be alright, even if they did hurt like hell.

Matthew finished, and stood up. He looked at the cop. If only the guy would hug him. Matthew felt as though he could move forward, and wrapped his arms around the cop, who was so much bigger than he was, though the cop would probably hurt him again if he tried it.

Judd turned to the table, where he had put the orange coverall, and he handed it to Matthew.

Matthew stepped into it. It was way too small. There was no way he was going to fit into this, he thought, as he pulled it up. He threaded his arms into it, and started to hoist it up. The seam rose up into the centre of his ball sack, separating it, so that there was one ball either side.

Matthew let it fall again, so that he could move all of his gear to one side, but the cop stopped him.

‘I think we’ll have one ball either side of the seam,’ Judd said.

Matthew swallowed.

He pulled it up again, trying to do what Judd had said, though when he reached his shoulders, he realised it wasn’t going to be easy. It was way too small for him. There wasn’t enough fabric between his shoulders and groin. Still, though, he pulled it up onto his shoulders, feeling the seam slide off his perineum, trapping his cock (which was now soft) and one ball underneath it. He stretched his shoulders out in it, and started to do up the buttons, though the seam was cutting into his cock and one ball so hard that it hurt.

‘It’s too small for me,’ Matthew said, as he did up the last button.

‘There’s a smaller size. Do you want that one?’

Matthew shook his head.

‘Well I tell you what. I’ll leave instructions so that you have one ball either side of the seam all night, until tomorrow, when I come back on duty, and if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you suck my cock again.’

As he was saying this, Judd ran his truncheon up the insides of Matthew’s legs, until it was nestled in the seam, and here, he tapped a bit, tapping gently between Matthew’s balls.

Matthew’s eyes were watering.

The legs of the coveralls were up above his ankle bones, the arms above his wrists. It was cutting into his arse, and his sack, and was even a little tight on his thighs, and across his arse, his stomach, his chest.

The guy handed him some shoes, and Matthew sat down to put them on, crying out in sudden pain as he did so.

Judd smiled.

When he was in a cell, and left alone, Matthew tried to get comfortable. He lay down on the bed, but it only made things worse. He didn’t suppose the cop would really leave instructions that he had to have one of his balls either side of the seam, but Matthew didn’t want to risk it. There was a camera in one corner of the cell, high up in the ceiling, a plastic eye, and Matthew supposed there was someone watching him, or might be.

After an hour or so, he was brought some food, some sort of stew, and he ate it. It was the first thing (except for Lukas’ penis) that he had eaten all day.

Afterwards he lay down on the bed, finding that he could bear the pain in his balls if he moved the seam every ten or fifteen minutes.

He started to think, started to think about the predicament he was in, and at first, he supposed it wasn’t very bad. The footprints had looked bad, but what did they have apart from that?

The scalpel.

Matthew remembered the scalpel, which would have been in the music room, and which would have had his fingerprints all over it.

That wouldn’t look good, but he could say he had picked it up. Lukas would say…

Lukas.

Matthew wondered if Lukas was alright. Surely he would just say that he had done it himself. He wouldn’t want Matthew to get in trouble, wouldn’t want Matthew to go to jail. They would ask him, and once Lukas had said that he had done it himself, they would let him go.

Wouldn’t they?

Matthew wasn’t sure.

He remembered the other stuff, the stuff in the ice cream container, the other scalpel and the sutures and the iodine from when he had cut Lukas’ balls off. All of that would have his fingerprints too.

And then there was that bit of Lukas’ sack, sitting on the workroom floor. They would be bound to find that.

Matthew frowned.

His clothes. When they were leaving, in the police car, he had seen a plainclothes policewoman exit the house carrying a whole series of see-through plastic bags, which he now realised had contained his clothes, the clothes they had let him change out of. There would be blood all over them, but blood, particularly, in the pocket, where he had had Lukas’ penis, a darker stain of it, that hadn’t been washed by the rain.

Matthew turned over onto his side. He felt like crying. Why had they had to come along and ruin everything? He wanted to see Lukas. He wanted to go and visit Lukas, and see him, and see what they had done to Lukas’ groin. It would be like he had imagined it now. Nothing there. They would have had to sew it up.

Matthew got hard, thinking about it. He unbuttoned a button on the coveralls, and put his hand in. He pulled himself a few times, being careful not to touch the head of his cock, which hurt like hell, but he did it, and came, knowing that Judd, that any of the policeman might be watching him through the eye in the corner.

The lights went out an hour or two later.

Matthew tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. He had to keep moving the seam on the jumpsuit from side to side, and when he woke in the morning, he felt like he had been tortured. His balls were aching, and his head was throbbing.

He was looking at the head of his dick. He had it poking out of the front of the overalls and was looking at how black and swollen his head was when they said that there was someone here to see him. They led him to a room with a glass division in the centre. It was a solicitor, a woman paid by Mr Sorensen to come along and get him bail. Matthew sat down in the seat and squeaked in answer to her questions. She frowned at the suit, at the way it was cutting him under the shoulders and riding up his wrists.

She said that bail shouldn’t be a problem. She couldn’t guarantee it, but he had no record. She told him he had a good chance, but the judge might decide otherwise. When he left her, the policeman who was escorting him, a guy whose name was Joshua, and who was young, took him to the same room that he had been in with Judd the previous day and gave him a new overall, one that fit.

Matthew thanked him, though when he was back in the cell, he wasn’t too sure if some permanent damage hadn’t been done to his balls. They felt all out of place, and he had to keep putting his hands in the suit, feeling them, to make sure they were alright.

He was doing this when Joshua came back again. The guy smiled at him, and Matthew smiled too.

‘It’s time for court,’ he said.

Matthew nodded. He did up the button on his jumpsuit and put his hands out for Joshua, who cuffed him, and then he followed him to a place where there were a lot of prisoners were waiting in a line leading to a door. He had to wait here, and then, when the wait was open, he filed forward with the rest of the prisoners. Matthew walked through the door and found himself in a courtroom full of people, suddenly and unexpectedly. He followed the other prisoners as they filed in and sat down.

Matthew winced under the glare of directed light. He felt as though he was on a stage.

After a minute or two, he turned his head, and looked out at the people in the courtroom. He saw Mr Sorensen, almost instantly, and then, beside him, though he had to frown to make sure it was her, McCady.