For Your Own Good Part 2

Bewildered and lost in prison, Michael is befriended by Sam - a 
penectomized inmate in training for a guard position.

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FOR YOUR OWN GOOD PART 2

     Mr. Ames was a very tall, very muscular looking man.  His 
auburn hair was cut in a short brush style, and his hazel eyes were 
penetrating.  He looked to Michael like someone who had at one time 
played professional football.  He also wore a look on his chiselled 
face that appeared as if it would tolerate no foolishness.  He 
carried a small briefcase in one hand and rested the other on his 
hip.  He looked the room over, top to bottom.  He looked the boys 
up and down, nodding.  His gaze settled on Michael.  The boy 
shiverred.  Ames cleared his throat, loudly.  They all stared down 
at their bare feet.
“Do I frighten you, Mikey?” he asked in a hoarse baritone voice.
     “Yes,” the boy whispered.
     “WHAT?!” Ames bellowed at him.
     “Yes, sir?” Michael choked out, not looking up and taking a 
step back.
     “Good.  Next time sound off like you’ve got a pair, while you 
still DO have a pair, that is.  And step forward.”
     Michael did that.  He took one small, nervous step forward.  
His gaze didn’t leave his bare feet on the bright white rug.  It 
felt so soft.  Suddenly he saw Ames’ polished black loafers right 
at the end of his toes.  He jerked his head up and gasped.  “I’m 
sorry,” he croaked, suddenly frightened to the point of trembling.  
He also had no idea why.  He really didn’t think he’d behaved badly 
since his arrival.  He also still thought that he didn’t deserve to 
be there.  Yet he was afraid.  Very afraid.
     He watched, as Ames looked him over.  He took the small boy’s 
chin in his huge hand and lifted Michael’s head to stare into his 
eyes.  Then he impulsively rubbed his shaven scalp.  “Nice haircut, 
Mikey,” he commented, “My aren’t WE a puny one?  Is Ned going to 
fix that?”
     “He said he could, sir,” Michael replied, wishing everyone 
would stop reminding him of how small and fragile he was.  He also 
couldn’t take his eyes off of that hard face.  There was something 
about it that held his gaze.  He felt his eyes drifting, and Ames 
went out of focus.  He was suddenly very tired.  He felt his knees 
twitch and weaken.
     “Tired already?” Ames asked.
     “Yea, y-yes, sirrr,” Michael’s voice slurred, sounding like 
someone else was saying it.
     “Why don’t you lie down, then?” Ames suggested.
     What a great idea!  He felt as if he had been up for days, 
although he wasn’t sure.  He knew he had fallen asleep twice while 
waiting, but he was unsure in the artificially lit dorm of what 
time it was.  There were no clocks.
     Michael’s eyes were heavy as Ames gently pushed him 
backwards.  He felt his bare butt come into contact with the bed, 
which was warm.  “I guess sleeping for 12 hours so close together, 
two times, wore you out,” he commented.  Through the fog that was 
filling his mind, the boy listened to this man who was literally in 
control of his life now.  “I-I-I thought I j-jus-s-t got here?” he 
asked, mumbling, his lips feeling numb.  He realized that Ames’ 
hands were on his bare skin, moving him.  He was pulling back the 
blanket and tucking him in.  He positioned the boy’s shaven head on 
the pillow.  It was so soft.  Michael heard a soft beep sound, and 
eyes fell shut.
     “You slept for 12 hours in the waiting room and for 12 hours 
in the barber chair, boy,” he heard Ames say.  You’ve been here a 
whole day.  It’s bedtime again.”
     “No…” Michael tried to say, but he only succeeded in moving 
his lips.
     “Rest, Mikey.  You’ll grow to like it here.  Trust me, I’m 
your friend.  We won’t hurt you unless YOU make us hurt you.”
     Michael sighed and drifted off.  Somewhere in IO’s mainframe, 
a data stream loaded up and began to course through the transmitter 
in Michael’s pillow.
     
     Ames pulled his hand from the back of Michael’s stubbly 
scalp.  He turned to the three eunuchs who stood, watching 
him.  “Bedtime, kids,” he stated softly, as if afraid he would wake 
Michael.  “Goodnight, sir,” they all said in unison, and climbed 
into bed.  Ames walked to each one and laid a large hand on their 
foreheads.  Cheng whimpered as Ames touched him.  “Headache?” he 
asked the Asian eunuch.
     “Yes, sir,” Cheng whispered, “bad one.  Had it all day.”
     “Have you been good?” Ames asked.
     “Yes, sir,” Cheng replied, tears filling his eyes, “I was.  
Really.  Please make it stop!” he begged.
     “Guard!” Ames said, trying not to shout.  It was obvious that 
shouting was in his nature.  “Bring Cheng some Nalfon-D.  He sounds 
stuffy and has a headache.  Cheng,” he said, turning back to the 
eunuch, “did it occur to you that if you WERE good all day that you 
might have a REAL headache?”
     The eunuch shook his head, and the tears rolled.  He groaned.
     By the time the guard returned, Sam and Joey were asleep, 
their breathing even and slow.  Ames held Cheng’s head up, and got 
the little eunuch to swallow the pills.  He laid his briefcase on a 
nightstand, and opened it.  It contained a slim laptop computer.  
He then pulled a key out of his pocket and opened a panel on the 
stand near the floor.  There was a soft beep sound as Cheng lay his 
head back onto the pillow.  His eyes closed, but the tears 
continued.  Ames shook his head.  He quickly powered up the 
computer and plugged it into one of several exposed jacks in the 
secret panel.  “Mainframe,” he spoke into the condenser 
mic.  “MAINFRAME,” the auto-voice replied from everywhere and 
nowhere at once.  “Recognize Ames, authorization ‘Pi-101-R’.  
Report on inmate Cheng, this outlet.”  Then he waited.
     “BEHAVIOR 99%, ULF TRANS ZERO.  NEXT SCHEDULED CHECK-UP IN 13 
HOURS.”
     “Verify ULF at zero,” Ames demanded.  Cheng whimpered.  He was 
not asleep.
     “ULF AT ZERO,” the auto-voice replied.  
     “Real headache, son.  You might be getting sick,” Ames told 
the moaning eunuch.
     Cheng sighed and choked, then coughed.  Ames gave him a drink 
of water, then eased his head back down onto the pillow.  He hit a 
few keys on his computer and called up a menu with Cheng’s picture 
on it.  There was another soft beep as Ames ordered up a few 
commands on the keyboard.  The beep sounded again.  Somewhere deep 
in the mainframe, another data stream came to life and flooded into 
the transceiver in Cheng’s pillow.  Ames stepped back.  “Sleep, 
son,” he said softly.  Cheng’s facial features relaxed and he 
sighed heavily.  In seconds he was sound asleep.  “Mainframe,” Ames 
spoke to the computer again, “keep his wave cycle up so he stays in 
deep sleep for the next 12 hours.  Make sure he feels happy when he 
awakens.”
     “CONFIRMED,” the auto-voice agreed.
     Ames looked at the guard, who had come up behind him.  “Bad?” 
the large black man asked, his voice sounding worried.
     Ames sighed.  “You know what headaches mean, bad ones, when 
there’s no ULF hitting them?”
     The guard nodded and sighed.  “He WAS good all day long, sir.  
He even turned in his math assignment early and read aloud in 
history, they said.  Can you believe that?”
     Ames looked back at the sleeping eunuch and reached over to 
wipe the tears from his face.  “Tenderness,” he said softly, “is 
the last thing anyone expects.  Hell, for the longest time, I 
didn’t think he COULD talk.  He always has been good.  I feel for 
him, I tell you, and I know I shouldn’t.  If anyone shouldn’t, 
Cheng shouldn’t be here.  And he certainly shouldn’t die here.”
     “It’s the first bad one he’s let on about, sir,” the guard 
replied.
     “I know.”  Ames typed some data into the laptop and sent it 
off to the mainframe.  It, in turn, emailed Ned to let him know 
something was wrong with Cheng.  Schedules were rewritten 
instantly, and an MRI was scheduled for Cheng in the morning.  
Printouts shot out of printers for everyone on staff concerned.  
The headers on all of those memos read “Possible ULF Disaster” and 
carried Cheng’s ID number.  In moments, an entire day at IO was 
rewritten.  Ames sighed and packed up his computer.  “I’ve got 
other wards to check on, carry on.” 
     He left the dorm guard standing there, watching his four young 
charges sleep.  None of them stirred, not even an eye movement.  
The guard knew that none of them would so much as twitch all night 
long, not with the frequencies running through the transceivers 
hidden in their pillows.  He pulled up a chair beside Cheng’s bed, 
then closed the door.  He fell asleep later, in the chair, his gaze 
shifting between Sam and Cheng.  He wondered, as he felt himself 
drifting off, how much longer Cheng had.  He remembered his own 
time in IO as an inmate, and the boy who died of ULF treatment.  It 
hadn’t been pretty.  He also wondered how Sam’s future would 
unfold – if the penectomized boy would in fact get his early 
graduation as planned.  He drifted off remembering his own 
positioning as an IO staffer, thinking of how Sam reminded him so 
much of himself at that age.  In a way, he was proud of his oldest 
charge; it was for his own good, after all.

     Michael awoke to the sound of a steady, pulsing beep.  He 
opened his eyes, and stared up at the white ceiling.  It took him a 
moment, but then he realized where he was.  He sighed and rolled 
over, wanting to go back to sleep.  He didn’t recall any dreams.  
His action got him a rather sharp stab of pain through the head 
after a minute, and he bolted out of bed.  The pain stopped 
immediately.  Sam was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, 
laughing at him.  “What the fuck was that?” he demanded, not at all 
bothered by the fact that he was naked.  Sam laughed again.  “One 
hellacious alarm clock, buddy!” he replied, “C’mon, you got fifteen 
minutes to shower and get dressed,” he advised, gesturing towards 
the bathroom.  Joey was already showering, and Michael joined 
them.  The fact that he was an intact boy and they were different 
forms of eunuchs made him start to get hard again when he looked at 
them.  He turned his back to them and washed.  He muttered a rather 
rancid curse when he did his head.  Sam laughed again, shaking his 
head.  “You got a cute butt, white boy,” he said.  Michael didn’t 
reply.  Joey turned off his water and grabbed a towel from the 
rack.  He said nothing.  Cheng was still asleep.
     “Why’s HE still in bed?” Michael asked.
     “Sick,” Joey replied, walking bad to his bed after hanging up 
his towel.  Joey, Michael noticed, didn’t say much.  He also didn’t 
make eye contact.  Michael glanced around the corner at the 
sleeping Asian eunuch.  He was lying on his back, his chest rising 
and falling very slowly.  “Ned can fix it,” Sam said, “Whatever it 
is.”  They finished showering, Michael stealing an occassional 
glance at Sam.  The fact that the boy was missing his penis was 
startling.  He was also confused as to why it was making him hard 
to think about it.  Looking back at Sam’s comments, however, 
Michael was very glad that Sam didn’t have a penis.
     He found his white sweatsuit and socks on the end of his bed.  
Someone had brought them in during the night.  They were clean and 
smelled fresh.  Michael looked around.  “What time is it?” he 
asked.  Sam shrugged.  
     “No way to know.  No clocks, no windows.  I dunno what time it 
is or what day it is.  If it wasn’t for my ID bracelet, I wouldn’t 
even know how old I am.  They don’t want you to know anything in 
here.  Nothin’ on the outside world, Mikey.  Hell, you lost a whole 
day already.  I dunno how long we even sleep.  The lights never go 
out.”
     “So what do we do now?” Michael asked.
     “We go to breakfast, we go to four classes, we eat lunch, we 
go to three classes, we get a rec break, we eat supper and then we 
come back here.  We sleep, we shower, we do it all again the next 
time,” Sam summarized.
     “Every day, in and out,” Joey added, not looking up the 
floor.  He was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed, with a 
somber look on his face.  Cheng was still asleep.
     “You’d think we’d have woke him up by now,” Michael observed.
     “He CAN’T wake up until they let him wake up,” Sam said.
      “Huh?” Michael asked.
     “When you lay down in that bed, Mikey, a wave of some kind 
starts running through your head.  It knocks you out.  You don’t 
dream, you can’t move, and you don’t wake up.  It makes it easier 
to control the inmates.  It makes you feel good ‘n rested when you 
DO wake up, but you CAN’T wake up until the machine wants you to.”  
It was Joey who said this, still not looking up.  He sat cross-
legged on his bed, now staring at the door.  It opened, and Mr. 
Ames walked in.  He looked a bit groggy, but still imposing.  In 
one hand was the briefcase, and in the other was a rather strong-
smelling cup of coffee.
     “Sam,” he began, “I want you to take Mikey in hand and show 
him around.  Classes and such.  Get him into the routine, keep him 
in line.  I won’t be available for most of the day, I’ll be with 
Ned and Cheng.”  His gaze spoke volumes.  Michael looked away.  
     “C’mon, white boy,” Sam said.
     Michael obediently followed Sam and Joey out of the room and 
into the hall.  Sam led them to a door labelled “M” and allowed it 
to scan his ID.  Joey did the same, as did Michael.  The door slid 
open and they passed into a large room that was obviously a dining 
hall.  The door slid shut behind them.  It was crowded.
     Michael looked around, feeling Sam’s hand on his shoulder.  
Don’t be getting’ lost, Mikey.  You a little shit and you might get 
in trouble.  You’re new, stay close.  I been here a while, so watch 
me.”  Michael nodded.  Joey said nothing.  The dining hall was a 
sea of white sweats, with several guards in gray here and there, 
milling about.  A line was forming, and Sam led them to it.  It was 
just like the school cafeteria that Michael was used to, except 
that the food was an unattractive oatmeal-like substance that had 
little odor and even less taste.  He ate two bites and put down his 
fork.  “What IS this?” he asked.  
      “I think it wanted to be oatmeal at one time,” Joey mumbled, 
eating his food and not looking up.
     “Food here ain’t got much goin’ for it, Mikey,” Sam 
added.  “No jollies in eatin’, but you gotta eat it.”
     Michael did that, not commenting.  He was suddenly amazed at 
how hungry he was, and even the bland oatmeal tasted good.  When 
they were finished, they simply left their bowls on the table.  Sam 
explained that someone would clean them up as a bell sounded.  The 
crowd made its way to a set of large double doors marked “S”.  
Michael followed Sam and Joey.  Each inmate had to stop to allow 
the scanner to read his ID bracelet.  The first class was English.  
Next came Math.  Then Science.  Then History.  Michael rather liked 
history.  There were guards in every room, but the teachers looked 
to be outside employees instead of IO staffers.  They all wore 
dress clothes, and didn’t act like the IO staffers that Michael had 
so far seen.  After history came lunch.
     Lunch was no better than breakfast.  It consisted of something 
that had tried to be a pork fritter and failed.  There was an 
apple, some kind of boiled vegetable, and a thick drink that might 
or might not have been some sort of energy drink.  They ate in 
silence, until Michael felt a smack across the back of his head.  
It wasn’t a hard smack, but it startled him.  He jumped and choked, 
spitting mystery drink all over Joey.
     “Thanks terribly,” Joey muttered, wiping himself off with a 
napkin.
     Michael turned to see a somewhat fat and overall large boy 
with closely buzzed red hair standing behind him.  He was 
grinning.  He was also large enough to break Michael in half 
without popping a sweat.  His shirt said “Harvey.”  
     “So how’d’ja get stuck with this little shit?” he asked Sam, 
staring at Michael’s small form with a look that said ‘I’d love to 
hurt you.’
     “Luck,” Sam replied, “And wha’s wit you?  You wantin’ punished 
or somethin’?”
     “Felt like it,” Harvey replied, rubbing Michael’s stubbly 
scalp.  “Newbie, huh?”
     Michael nodded, afraid to say anything.  He looked at Sam with 
mute appeal in his eyes.  The look that Sam returned to Harvey was 
cold.  “Don’t make me,” he warned.
     “Or what?” the fat boy jibed, “You call Ames?  Over this 
little piece of crap?”
     “I like him,” Sam replied.
     “Lotta good that’ll do YOU, dickhead … uh, I mean dickless!”  
Harvey laughed.
     Michael had never seen a black person flush before.  It was 
very interesting.  Sam’s face paled a bit, then became dark.  Then 
it became a redder tint of brown.  “Stupid, fat, white eunuchs all 
being brain dead, is that it?  You just wantin’ yo fat head blowed 
off, Harvey?  At least I got the balls to do something wit you.” 
Sam replied, his eyes flashing.
     “For all the good they’ll do ya,” Harvey retorted.
     Joey coughed and looked away.  Sam sighed. 
     “I betcha wanna fuck him, don’tcha, Sam?” Harvey asked.
     “Mikey,” Sam replied, “You be makin’ a mental note here.  This 
is what happens when they cut your balls off and all you do is sit 
and eat and be stupid.”
     Joey cleared his throat and looked up at Harvey.  “Back off, 
man.  You know what happens in fights in here.  Don’t blow your 
behavior rating.”
     By then, Michael noticed that several guards had taken notice, 
but were not moving to head anything off.  Sam turned to look at 
one of them, and some kind of recognition passed between them.  The 
large black man (as most of the guards were) nodded.  He calmly 
walked over to a panel on the wall, inserted a key, and pulled it 
down to reveal a control panel of some kind.  He punched a few 
keys, and Michael noticed Harvey put a hand to his temple.  His 
other hand moved quickly to Michael’s upper arm, though, and the 
boy pulled him up out of his seat.  “You’re gonna pay for that, 
shrimp.”
     “One more time, Harvey.  Leave him alone.  I’ll do it.  I 
swear I will.  I’ve had it with you.  You got this attitude, man.  
You no better than anyone else in here.  You closer to graduation 
than anyone, and you act like an asshole.  You think you gonna get 
away with it?  Go ahead, hit him.  Do what you gonna do, and see 
what I do.  I know what I’m gonna do, and I don’t wanna be here 
past 18.  I don’t wanna be dead, either.”
      Harvey released his grip on Michael’s arm.  “See ya at rec 
break, shrimp,” he threatened, walking away.  Michael noticed he 
was rubbing at his left temple.
     “What WAS that?” he asked Sam.
     But Sam was grinning.  “Harvey not be likin’ me all that 
much.  He’s an idiot, Mikey.  So close to getting’ out and he does 
this shit.  Me and him were both up for early grad consideration, 
and I won.  They like big black guys as guards, case you didn’t 
notice that yet.  I could have had him killed, you know.”
     Joey spoke up then, noting Michael’s confusion.  “Sam’s gonna 
be a guard, early graduation program.  He’s sorta like a monitor.  
That’s why they put us with him.  He’s been here a while and most 
guys know not to fuck with him.  That and he’s been known to kick 
ass from time to time.”
     One of the guards came over to the table where they sat.  “You 
handled that well, Sam,” he said.  “Thanks,” Sam replied.  
     “But would you have done it?” the guard asked.
     Sam looked at Michael and then back at the guard.  “If he’d 
hurt Mikey, I’d ‘a had you blow his fat fuckin’ head all da way 
off!”
     “I think Harvey’s going to have a headache for the rest of the 
day,” the guard mused.
     “Good,” Michael muttered, returning to his mystery meat 
sandwich.

     After lunch came the remaining three classes, one of which was 
recreation or PE and the other was a sort of counselling session.  
The next class was, ironically, called Current Events.  There was 
no hint given of day or time, just carefully editted bits of news 
and discussion.  The PE class, which came last in the day, provided 
the day’s excitement.  It was almost more than Michael could take, 
and it struck a chill in his heart.  He had never seen anyone die 
before, and the reality of death was far worse than anything he had 
ever seen in a movie.  Of course, it was Harvey that died, in a 
most spectacular way.
     PE took place in a rather common looking gymnasium.  There 
were the usual guards here and there as they filed into the gym.  
Sam led his new charge to the locker room, where they changed into 
snug fitting white T-shirts and white gym shorts.  There were no 
shoes, but rather thicker socks with a sort of traction gripping 
rubberized sole.  Michael followed Joey and Sam’s examples, and 
undressed to change.  Before he could get his shorts up, Harvey had 
seen him.  He heard the word “bullshit” before he felt a hard blow 
to his balls which sent him to the floor, curling up into a ball 
and crying and gasping.  Michael had taken hits to the balls 
before, but Harvey had nailed him hard enough to pop the knuckle 
joints of his own hand.  Sam’s reaction was swift.  The guard in 
the locker room had only watched, a broad grin on his face. 
     Through his tears, Michael looked up to see Sam slamming 
Harvey up against the lockers.  His eyes were wild and Harvey’s 
teeth were clenched.  “Yo ass is MINE, white trash!” he heard Sam 
scream, “I told you to leave Mikey alone!”
     “Fuck you,” Harvey replied, taking a swing at Sam’s head.  But 
Sam was too fast for the sluggish, overweight boy.  He ducked his 
shaven head and brought his fist up into Harvey’s belly.  Michael 
heard the wind whoosh out of the white boy’s lungs as he doubled 
over.  Joey was suddenly on Michael then, pulling him to his feet 
and dragging him aside as the two fighters shoved each other 
apart.  There was murder flashing in each of their eyes.  “Why’s HE 
still got his balls?” Harvey demanded.
     “Do I look like the administration to you?” Sam retorted, 
aiming a swing at Harvey’s face.  Distracted just a bit, Harvey 
didn’t dodge the blow in time.  Although meant for his mouth, it 
caught him in the jawline.  His head snapped back and slammed into 
the lockers.  He shot a foot out towards Sam, and connected with 
his knee.  Sam went down, and Harvey fell on him.  The guard called 
in a fight in progress, but oddly enough, ended his message 
with “Sam calls it, authorization ‘GRAD-e.’”
     Sam got his feet under Harvey’s vast bulk, and with a grunt, 
kicked him off.  Harvey landed in a heap a few feet away, his head 
striking the floor hard.  He got up, shook himself, and charged at 
Sam.  His eyes, however, were locked on Michael.  Oddly enough, 
Joey stepped in front of him, pushing him back into the 
corner.  “Pull your pants up, Mikey,” was all he said.  Michael did 
that as Sam sidestepped the charging boy and smoothly tripped him.  
Once again, Harvey went down.  The rest of the class had melted 
back out of the way to give the fighters room.  There was an 
occassional comment, but none of the wild playground cheering to 
which Michael was accustomed.  
     Harvey regained his feet again and glared at Sam.  “Have you 
told him yet, Mr. Bigshot?  Does he know?”
     “Shut up, Harvey.  I’m getting tired of dancin’ around your 
fat ass,” Sam replied.
     “Does he know what they’re gonna do to him?  Or what you’re 
gonna tell him they outta do to him?  You gonna do him like you did 
Cheng?”
     “Enough!”  Sam shouted.
     “No, it’s never gonna be enough, Sam.  Just because you had 
your dick cut off doesn’t mean it’s right!”  Harvey screamed at him.
     “You had yo chance and blew it, whiteass,” Sam shouted back.
     The blow was so fast that, even years later, Michael would 
look back and not recall seeing it coming.  Sam's arm lashed out 
smoothly and connected squarely with Harvey’s nose.  Then the other 
hand came up and firmly met with the fat boy’s mouth.  Blood and 
teeth spewed from Harvey’s hands, cupped over his already swelling 
face.  He bent down, moaning and crying.  “Damn you, you dickless 
nig…” he started to say, but he never got the word out.  There was 
no doubt that Sam, so very well muscled and stronger than Harvey 
was, would take him.  Instead, Sam looked towards the guard.  The 
guard nodded and smiled.  Sam looked up at the mirrored globe in 
the ceiling and spoke three words – “ULF detonate Harvey.”  There 
was a loud buzz, and then a silence.  And with that, Harvey’s head 
exploded.  Literally.  He had time for one shrill howl of pain and 
one last look at the powerful black boy who had killed him.  
Michael heard the gasps run through the crowd, and then lockers, 
floor, walls, guard, and all boys present were sprayed with blood 
and worse.
     “Dumbass,” Sam said to the still-twitching corpse.
     “Well done, Sam,” the guard said softly.