I stood anxiously. The guard pressing a baton to the back of my head. I was the only one on board that bus that got here. But I knew what I was in for. I was going to fucking die here. This place had a reputation as the most bloody location for criminals of a young age. Rumor had it that the building had 90 deaths by stabbing, electrocution, suicide, and beating in the last 40 years. You guys can see why I'm nervous, right?
Me, a scrawny colt from Vanhoover. With a short and filthy teal mane, poor families have no choice but to do makeshift mane cutting. A deep grey coat that sang loser. Eyes that shimmered amber innocence. I wasn't supposed to be among the vagrants and criminals. I was the nice boy who'd do just about anything for a quick pay. Sadly that polite demeanor would get me shunned, called a fag, and murdered. Not in any particular order.
The shackles around my hooves clanged as I was dragged to the entry. I was already in fear. Rumor alone being a nightmare inducing tool of influence. How did this even happen to me? Oh...right. You guys don't know that. I got busted doing an illegal thing. One that I didn't realize was illegal until I was told what I was selling. Drugs. I was absolutely sure my friend had called these medical supplies. I digress.
We walked through the doors. And a mare with a blasé look on her face took my name, age, gender, orientation, description, health state, and phobias down onto a paper. Then put it in a file to add to the computer system at a later time. The massive guard then yanked me down a series of halls had to go to three rooms. One was for Drug and Alcohol testing. The next for IQ. And the last was personality. They charted these all down on a sheet. That would obviously go in the file.
The called me the premiere gay, as I had all the traits of a colt who just got horny around another colt. I felt both hurt and confused. I already told them my orientation. Yet they proceed to tell me this. The buff ass guard then said, "You'll probably be your cellmates bitch. If they dig the 'wide eyed virgin' look."
"I'm not gay! I already told you that." I said in response. Never have I ever been physically assaulted so fast in my entire fucking life. This bastard slammed me to the floor, and shouted in my ears. I couldn't figure half the words he said since I was just hit against TILE FLOORING.
"Do you understand?!" The big bastard asked.
"I guess?" I said, a bit dizzy from the impact.
He lifted me up, and smacked me in the face. Said more unintelligible gibberish that sounded like a pony choking on a dick. Don't ask how I know that. That will be mentioned later. Got it? So I'm lead town to my "room".
It's basically a prison cell except ten times lamer. A cheap alarm clock sits on the side table. A dressed filled with shirts, tank tops, and towels is under the barred window. No glass there, so the cold ass ocean air will basically fuck me. A ragged bed with thin as shitty knockoff curtains sheets is up against the right wall. A vent from the two rooms to the left and right of me is in the corner and very small. Lastly a basket of shampoo, soap, and toothpaste sit atop the dresser. Basically this room is ugly as the guard.
I don't complain aloud, because I'd probably get myself into a situation I did not want yet. If you know what I'm talking about, good. You follow along. The guard shows me a crappy schedule which is put into the plastic paper holder that is mounted next to the door. Which means if they walk in at the wrong time to put a memo there. I'm getting screwed. Literally.
He gives me 10 seconds to put on a shirt. To look the part of a member of Block 5. There are ten blocks, never mixed. Block 5 has clothes that are Vert, if you're not familiar with the writings on crayons and markers, that's Green. I hate green. It reminds me of my shitty father. His eyes were green. Those same eyes glared at me like I'd join him in prison someday. Guess he wasn't quite right, but very close to the correct guess.
I'm lead to a group of teenage colts, they are a mix of gangbangers, loners, meth heads, and crazies. I see why they put me here. I told them I was gay and this is what I get? The dumbest crowd. 'Fuck the IQ test, join the dipshits with mental issues.'. Celestia be damned if my ass lasts three seconds when we have to shower. I march with these dull knives.
Though the colts in this place are given education, in this segment they have a pretty fucked up guy as a teacher. Unlike regular school teachers, this guy must've been hired with a résumé featuring the words 'I hate gays'. He greeted us with, "Welcome back young homosexuals."
I felt like knocking his block off when he introduced me to the class. Motherfucker was given my file. So he introduced me as 'Fresh meat' and 'The newest member of the sausage festival.'. Is this place really so anti-gay? Yes, the answer is FUCKING YES. I regret all my life choices up to this point. Now please, Celestia, Luna, Cadence....somepony?! Get me the fuck out of this place!
The teacher, Fast Break, droned on about the classroom rules. Must've been lucky for me to get here on the first day. He then went into a lesson on history. Equestrian Revolution, Griffon Wars, and some crap about Changelings. After that came an English assignment. We were to write a letter to those we love. About...well... Whatever we want. Which was the nice thing he did that day.
We went to lunch, and some of the other 'Fags' introduced themselves. Yosemite, Nuke Overload, Blaster, and Cloud Strike. They seemed like tough and masculine fellas. So I asked if all of them were actually gay. Two were. The others were lumped in with gays for being Bisexual and Asexual. I felt bad for the asexual one. He told me that in this place if he said he was Asexual to the guards, they'd try and make him aroused. So he doesn't say anything to them about it.
"Every few weeks, another guy will tell them that and I'll be forced to put up with them trying to make me pop a boner. Disgusting. I swear if their wives or girlfriends saw that, they'd be dumped or divorced in an instant." Cloud Strike said.
"That's fucked up." Said the Bisexual, Yosemite. He was a buff guy. I had a hard time not taking extended looks at him. Clean brown mane, sharp purple eyes, and a pale olive coat. He was pretty sexy. And the green shirt was definitely not wasted on him.
"Yeah." Cloud said back, biting a hayburger.
We sat in pretty much dead silence for a good thirty minutes, until a colt got mouthy with the guards and set them off. Getting struck down to the floor. Then hauled out of the room, unconscious. The table I sat at was not going to do anything for the colt. He got himself into that, he can bullshit his way out.
During our chores I had to work with a strange wacky sack of I can't explain. He was barking out insults at the wall, but according to the guards who were keeping track of us said he has Schizophrenia. Must be hallucinating. But what do I know about mental illnesses. I'm a lame ass from Vanhoover's shitty slums.
Then came our free period. Me and the few colts I had met at lunch and in class sat around pretending to care about the lame shit on the television. It was pretty much just a lame history channel documentary about Neighpon. Like we care about that. We all took turns sharing details from our lives. And I learned some pretty fucked up things.
In addition to being tested for which sexuality he is, Cloud Strike's father beat him. He had a group of friends but when he came out they all left. He came from the city of Manehatten. He was busted committing vandalism to his school. And his mother died when he was 10.
Yosemite was from Appleoosa, and was shunned for being Bisexual. He almost got hit by a train. He had sex with a stallion before he came here. He was busted for stealing from a store's back room. His family hates him. And his fillyfriend left him.
Nuke Overload is gay, and was in foster care after his parents both died from murder. He came from Baltimare. He had five different coltriends. He got into a bad spot at his school when word got around that he was gay. Let's just say it was a messy situation. He has depression and wants to die. But not from his own hooves.
Blaster is also gay, yet he has paranoia and anxiety. He made few friends. Used drugs. Drank his dad's whiskey. Made many friends. Got piercings and was a rocker. Faked being straight. Came out last year.
So that told me all I needed about my new group of folks to stick around. But what I was afraid of was finally here. Showering time. For one, the guards spread rumors that they'll give 'private discipline' to those who ask others for consent. Secondly, I hear that unicorns and pegasai aren't allowed to pick up dropped soap with wings or magic. Basically I'm screwed royally. I wish I made that up.
Lucky me, no one tried anything with me. That was until I was introduced to my cellmate. A colt who wanted to be a mare. I'd never seen a trans pony before. But now that I have, I warn you. Some of them are really weird. He seemed to have a secret stash of stockings. Which scared the crap out of me. I went right to bed and tried to ignore his pleas for me to fuck him silly. I was not about to have sex with some random colt on my first, second, or any day. If I knew him. Different story. Okay?
