I’d done time before, but never in a joint as overcrowded as this one. Cells built for two men were each housing four. What would normally be small arguments over shared facilities quickly flared into fights and feuds, and lock downs were common. This was not going to be an easy stretch.
I spent the first few days keeping my head down. I wanted to check the place out before I made any decisions about how I spent my time. I found out who belonged to which gang, who the leaders were, identified the jocks and the joint sissies, the wolves and the old men. None of them interested me. I’m pretty good at going unnoticed and I figured I had a couple more weeks before I ran into any trouble. I tried to make conversation with my cellmates but they made it clear they wanted privacy. Only Carl, the guy in the bunk below, would talk to me and that was to explain that with conditions this crowded people needed all personal space they could get. One week in and I was beginning to wonder what I was doing there. And then I saw him: a monster of a guy. Six feet two inches tall and somewhere close to three hundred pounds, mostly muscle. I’d never seen anyone so big. His upper arms, pecs, abs and back were covered in tattoos. His arms looked like they could punch through concrete. He had a shaved head, no neck and a back so wide he filled the stairwell.
Head forward, he was barrelling his way up the metal stairs with everyone jumping to get out of his way. He didn’t appear to notice any of them. My heart skipped a beat when he turned onto our landing and walked all the way down the tier to the cell at the end. And then he was gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. That was the man I was interested in. He would make my time worthwhile. That evening I raised the subject with Carl. “Who’s the beast down the end of the corridor?” “The freak with the tattoos? We all call him ‘the Hulk’. Stay out of his way, he’s a bad-tempered fuck.” “Does he share a cell with anyone?” “He’s the only guy in the whole joint with a cell to himself. They can’t find anyone to share with him. They all either end up in the infirmary or begging for P.C.” (PC stands for protective custody – the worst place for any con to spend their time.) “You’ll know when they do put someone in with him – you’ll be kept awake all night by the screaming.” “What does he do to them?” I asked, my dick getting hard. “When you’ve heard the screaming, you won’t ask that question.”
I lay awake all night fantasising about the monster at the end of our corridor. His small, round eyes staring right into the back of my head. Lips almost smiling as his fists came crashing into me… I was first out of the cell the next day and scoped everywhere for the Hulk. I didn’t see him in the chow hall or the yard. The whole of my free time was spent in the gym in case he showed up. Finally I was rewarded when he arrived late in the afternoon to work out. He had no problem getting on whatever bit of equipment he needed: everyone else parted before him. He’d pile on more plates than anybody else just for his warm-up sets, and by the time he reached his maximum lifts he bellowed with such rage and intensity I swear the walls of the gym shook. He worked out furiously without acknowledging anyone. I don’t know how long it had been since he’d taken a shower but the gym was filled with his smell. Some of the guys couldn’t take it and walked out, but I took deep breaths and held them for as long as possible to get everything I could from the air that had been near him. He seemed to have endless strength, but I knew that it wasn’t weights that he wanted to lift. When he used the punching bag I could tell that his fists itched to be punching flesh … when he screamed through his teeth during squats I knew that his teeth ached to be biting something else…. and when his watermelon sized biceps pumped up during his arm curls I knew he’d rather be working them in a sleeper hold around someone’s neck. At the end of the workout he stormed out of the gym and charged back to his cell, scattering anyone too slow to move out of the way. They all saw him as a monster, a freak, but only I understood what his real need was. For what use is a sadist if he doesn’t have a masochist to work with?
I dedicated my time to learning the Hulk’s daily routine. I knew when he appeared in the chow hall and when he went to the gym. I was always ahead of him in the shower block or ready to catch his eye in the yard. But none of my efforts resulted in any sign that he’d even noticed me. I started making up rules in my head: perhaps if I did the same workout as him he might ask me to spot for him one day? No. Perhaps if I ate the same food as him we’d make eye contact in the chow hall? I may as well have not been there. Perhaps if I always walked behind him … or ten yards ahead of him … or don’t walk at all and let him pass by? Each idea was met with zero success. Finally, I was waiting on the landing one day for him to pass by my cell on the way back from his daily workout. He was later than usual, I have no idea what delayed him, and as I grew more bored I ended up sitting on the floor. Suddenly he strode past me with the force of a tornado, and as I looked up we made eye contact for a fraction of a second. He sneered with a look of utter disgust and carried on without stopping. I was ecstatic! … Okay, it wasn’t the reaction I’d been hoping for but at last we’d made some sort of connection. I knew that I was on his radar at last. Now all I had to do was work out what I’d done that offended him so badly. The only conclusion I could come to was that he didn’t like me sitting down in his presence. That was easy enough to fix. I resolved never to sit down in the same room as him unless he sat down first. And my first chance to test this hypothesis was at tonight’s meal. As I knew the Hulk’s schedule by heart it was easy to join the chow line five or ten guys behind him. My plastic tray was loaded with the usual cheap food, (hot-dogs that night), and I went to sit at a table with Carl. All the while I watched the Hulk out of the corner of my eye. He’d reached an empty table and was just about to sit down. I was going to sit down as well, when the Hulk hesitated for a moment. He almost caught me off-guard, but I managed to hesitate too. The moment lengthened. He didn’t sit down. I stayed standing as well. My mouth went very dry as I realised he was setting me a test in front of the whole prison, and I had one chance not to blow it. Carl began tugging at my clothes: “Sit down, you fool – what’s wrong with you? You got a cramp or something?” I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t do anything except keep watching the Hulk out of the corner of my eye. He still wasn’t moving. I felt a trickle of sweat run down my spine, quickly followed by another. Large damp patches were forming under my arms. I couldn’t swallow, as my mouth was too dry. I started praying that the Hulk would move soon before the whole hall noticed what was happening. Carl was shouting at me now. I couldn’t hear him. All I could hear was my heart pounding and the general conversation in the room as more and more people stopped eating to watch two men having a standing contest in the middle of the chow hall! It was obvious to everyone that the Hulk was testing me. If I buckled and sat down first I’d have to seek P.C. because my life would be hell from now on unless I had the Hulk protecting me. My hands began to shake uncontrollably and the items on my plastic tray rattled. I tried to see if the Hulk was still holding his tray. Had he put it down? I couldn’t see because large drops of sweat were running into my eyes and I didn’t have a free hand to wipe them away. What was going on? I’m sure that everyone in the room was looking in our direction now, even the guards, although none of them was getting involved. I think they were as afraid of the Hulk as we were. Carl had stopped pulling on my clothes and had started shovelling food into his mouth as quickly as possible, keen to get out of there. The trembling had spread to my knees. More time passed. Was it five minutes since we’d entered the chow hall or twenty? I had no idea of time. I had no sense of anyone left in the room except for the Hulk and me. I desperately wanted to keep standing but there were pins and needles in my arms and legs and I wasn’t sure how long I could continue. I realised then that there was no way I could win against this guy. He was just teaching me a lesson and I should never have taken him on. He’d beaten me. I was stupid to think we were in the same league. My shoulders sagged. The sound of a tray hitting a table brought my focus back to reality. The Hulk had thrown down his tray and was striding out of the room. What did that mean? Had I passed the test or failed? Was I meant to follow him? I didn’t know what to do. There was no way I could eat anything and keep it down, so I left my tray with Carl and with my whole body shaking, went back to my cell. What had just happened?
I tried to get my breathing back to normal and think rationally. Either I was about to be moved to the Hulk’s cell or I would ask for P.C. Either way I’d need to pack my things because I wouldn’t be staying here any more. I gathered my belongings, folded up my bedding and sat on the edge of the bunk bed, waiting. Gradually the sounds of men from the chow hall grew louder. Dinner was over and guys were returning to their cells. I began to tremble again. What if I’d left it too late? What if the other inmates were coming to get me right now? The cell door opened. I breathed a huge sigh of relief: it was a guard. He seemed surprised that I was already packed. “Get up. I see that you’re all ready to go.” “Go where?” “The end of the tier, boy. You’ve got a new cellmate. Good luck to you – I think you’re going to need it!”
Author's Name: Reader submission