Infected angel

Bitches

Thoughts flowed as quickly as tears and dried just as quickly. I didn't ask who the crocodile is, Gena ... probably someone who injects himself or injects someone with the drug... that's probably why they said he would eat me...
He didn't understand what everyone had to do with the infection, and what frustrated him the most was that they called him faggot. Criminal law ... how can a law be criminal? And calling me faggot ... in prison ... people are fucking each other ... everybody knows that! The way the Cat labelled him surprised and confused him more than it offended him. He was the type of prisoner that Petya would say was raping his fellow prisoners. Now, if somebody from family saw me ... and knew what I was thinking ... they would be more offended that I was surprised that they didn't want to rape me than that I got here at all ... maybe ... mom sure ... dad too ... or he would say he's not surprised that I'm always ... "
Oi!" squealed someone in a thin voice, as loud as the hare of Nu, Pogodi! Newcomer stood staring. Three boys slid down from the bunks.
Weird. But weird in a different style than Fima. They didn't fit into the atmosphere of the cell. They were thin, but not emaciated. They also seemed cleaner than most of the staff. However, they lacked the aura of rawness and danger that emanated from the other, shaved and tattooed inhabitants of the cell. Instead, they reeked of shameless faggots, for which they would get a pickle on the street and their faces, transformed into steak tartare, would end up on YouTube. Moreover, one of them was basking in an orangery, comic books were lying on the bunks, and they all looked contented; their eyes glowed suspiciously. Then it finally hit him. Bitches ... like real bitches!
A rat-faced boy, perhaps as old as he was, moving in an unashamedly hot-eared fashion, spread his arms. "Newbie, newbie! Newbie come to us!" he jotted down, jumping as he did so. "And what a handsome man! That will make His Highness happy!"
"Who... what?" whispered Petya. "Who are you..."
"I'm Marcela," said the boy in a high-pitched voice. He was wearing only full briefs. Petya felt a shudder and clenched his teeth. Nasty ... scumbag... Marcela? (Marcela is female version of Marcel)
"This are Leo and Kikina." Marcela introduced his or her mates.
"I'm Kirk!" said the latter in exasperation. "Fuck your mother, Marcela!"
"I wish you that!" retorted Marcela, very softly and turned back on Petya. "And what about you, little wiener? Decent people introduce themselves when they come somewhere!"
"Pyotr," Petya introduced himself coldly.
"Look how he is shy!" squealed the one he identified as Kirk.
"I'm not shy!" snapped Petya.
"And aren't you handsome too?" Kirk retorted, laughing with the other bitches. There was nothing boyish about it at all.
"Will you laugh even if I vomit at you?"
They laughed at him some more and then bitch Leo asked him if he has cigarettes. Petya shook his head.
"Bad luck... I have." Marcela purred. "I will give you some, if you will cuddle with me. Do you want?"
"And you, don't you want to lick my ass?"
"Sure I want!" They laughed again, twisting and writhing as they did so.
Kirk splashed himself with orange juice as he did so. He wiped her palm and then patted it on his chest. Marcela rushed over and started licking her.
Petya's stomach clenched and he felt another shudder. He saw real gays for the first time in his life.
They surrounded him.
"What do you have here?" Kirk clawed at his pack.
"And what do you have it in your pocketses?" Marcela groped Petya trousers.
"Don't fucking touch me!" shouted Petya and jumped. Why didn't I push him away? "Shhhshhh!" Marela put a finger to her mouth. "Everything will be fine, don't worry!" "There's shit," Kirk stretched his face as he found nothing but clothes and a toothbrush in his trunk.
"Come on!" Marcela hissed and sniffed the briefs for a long time. "Unused! Stuff that in your ass or somewhere!" he shouted and threw them at Petya's head.
It burned in his head, how angry he was. He wanted to somehow insult them, punch them, stomp them into the ground and smash their skulls against the walls. But he never really fought with anyone, except for his brother. He collected his meager possessions and his wenches sneered at him.
"And why are you here, you skunk?" asked Leo.
"You can confess us with everything!" Marcela declared, his voice making it clear what he meant.
"That's for a longer conversation," muttered Petya. He didn't want to tell them the truth, but he didn't want to lie too much either.
"We've got plenty of time until lunch!" Leo said.
"And why don't you say first?" asked Petya.
"Fess up you fucking bunny," cried Marcela, "or I'll slap you like a shit!"
"Wandering!"squealed Petya. Taking pictures of the border, disturbances and proximity ... no, I'll keep that to myself.
"Don't bullshit us!" frawned Leo.
"I'm not bullshiting!"
"Stop it you freak!" someone yelled.
Petya looked back. The scream was not directed at the bitches, but at the creature Fima, who was still standing in the same place, staring at the door and looking like he was having a seizure. He twitched and pulled at his wiener.
Several other tattooed people jumped out of the place from where the Cat came out on Petya. They started hitting Fima with the rolled blankets, which looked a little funny at first, but when one of them pulled the blanket over his face with all his might, his glasses cracked and Fima fell to the ground with a piercing scream.
"Shit," gasped Petya.
At the same time, a chill ran down his spine, because for a moment it looked like those idiots were going after them too. But apart from threatening looks, a few curses and obscene gestures, they did nothing. They spat on the Fima and retreated back to the and their bunks. Fima was writhing, crying and choking on phlegm. He was kicking his feet in the air, and his cry soon turned into a desperate, insane roar.
Bitches like nothing. Leo was engrossed in the comics again, and Marcel and Kirk were eating sunflower seeds.
Petya took a step forward. His guts were clenched, fear was huge, but anger and regret prevailed. He wanted to bang on the door and call an ambulance to take the poor guy to the hospital because he might have shrapnel in his eyes. A weak, strangely sticky hand gripped his wrist. He turned and then staggered as Leo pulled him close.
"Screw that. You would end up the same."
"Seriously," Kirk nodded, "if you're with us, you're safe, but if you go outside our zone, the gypsies will fuck you with your own dick."
"Exactly," said Marcela. "come to my crib, here you'll feel like with your mommy!" Petya felt sick. He had never felt such fear, compounded by helplessness. When they brought him here, he consoled himself with the idea that someone like Henri Charrière would take him under his protection. Someone who can wield a club. And now he end up, although he did not understand how and why, under the protection of three little girls who only knew how to squirm and in their ass instead of a tube with money they had the most withered dicks of pedofiles. No one will help me ... I have no one, no one knows that I am ... I am alone and my life is really at stake ... He looked at the locked door. I can't get out ... I can't get out ...
A sense of helplessness gripped his throat and he was short of breath. Like when I was in the hospital for the first time ... but there it was possible, there I knew I could leave and because of that I got used to it ... not here, here you can't cry, stomp it out ... no one comes. Mom won't come. Dad won't come ... nobody knows where I am. He felt as if he was stuck in an elevator and felt a rising panic, with the urge to throw himself against the wall. It's not here to make me better or to help me ... nobody cares ... I can't go out ... I can't go out ... and I'm not bound to anyone! His eyes darted around the cell until they hurt. I can't... I can't do it... I'll either die or go crazy! He felt weak in the knees and collapsed onto the lower bunk.
"That's my fucking bed!" Kirk said.
"I hope its not full of cum," Petya hummed.
"Of course it is." yawned Leo.
"Fuck you ... both of you!"
"Yes, you can," Marcela smiled sweetly. "And by the way, welcome to our place! Would you like an apple?"
"No ..."
"Cig?"
"Yeah." He wasn't afraid that the guards would catch him. He wouldn't mind solitary confinement at all. He got burned, although he didn't like the way Marcela was looking at him. He drew in the smoke with the relish of a smoker who hadn't smoked in a week. As soon as he blew, he felt something on his thigh. "Hey!" he yelled, pulling away.
"Sorry." Marcela smirked. "But you should start getting used to it ... or rather start training."
Petya needed a drink. But he didn't see any jug or faucet anywhere to get water. "What do I have to get used to?"
"What we have to do if we want to survive," Marcela replied.
Petya detached his tongue from his palate with difficulty. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't absorb it or accept it. He needed a drink or he would collapse. "Where can I get a drink?"
"There's a faucet by the crapper, but boiling water flows from it. You have to scoop it up and wait for it to cool down. There's a pot of tea at the table ... well that's what was tea before someone drank it and peed it out, but ... we don't go there. Urkas are there. You already met their boss."
"So what can I do?"
"Have a banana," suggested Marcela, handing him one, surprisingly fresh.
Petya reluctantly took it and polished it with his sleeve. Then he waited a while. If he wasn't mistaken, HIV should die in the air within five minutes.
In the process he asked how the others didn't beat them up and steal their food.
"The Urkas can't do anything to us. But don't go for the tea anyway. They could be pissed."
"How come they can't do anything?"
"They can't beat you up with their hands, and all the nails and tacks were found last week by the wardens during raid. And above all, he can't stab you either."
"Why?"
Leo shrugged. "It's against their law. If they did, others would despise them. And they would also become ... infected."
A drop of cold sweat fell from Petya's armpit over his side. Soon I will stink like everyone else ... will I ever get over it? If I even survive...
"Vorishky, black asses... at the very back ... they do give a shit about it, but they won't do anything, because his Excelency would have their asses torn," continued Leo.
"Who is ... his Excelency?" Petya asked and wasn't sure if wants to know.
Marcela laughed.
"The local daddy. And we're his darlings." He squirmed. Probably trying to sound sensual, but it made me cry and laugh at the same time.
Petya finally understood. Bitches and a daddy who gives them fruit and comics... He didn't know what shocked him more. If this is even possible, or with what peace and comfort his fellow prisoners take it. Or the fact that I ended up between them ... if I cut my veins, I might end up in the hospital ... but with what?
"I'm not going to get fucked!" he blurted out and burst into tears. He cried, snorted and swallowed what ran from his nose into his mouth.
"Baby," he made Marcela caress him. Petya wanted to kick him, but he didn't give it enough force; he grabbed Marcela's leg, pulled down his pants and ran his tongue along the inside of his calf. Leo was reading a comic book undisturbed, Kirk was laughing and saying something about innocence.