t w o   w e e k s   l a t e r

Joshua sat in the back of the cramped car. They had not, in fact, let him finish his cigarette. Instead, he had been slammed onto the hood of the car, handcuffed, and thrown in the backseat. His mood soured more with each meter the car covered. There were two men in the front seat. Both of them were dressed in cops' uniforms, and reflective sunglasses covered their eyes, making them unrecognizable and their expressions and ages unidentifiable.

Joshua sighed under the his breath. The car was silent and felt much too tense for the situation at hand.

"Y'all doing alright today?" Josh questioned, that light southern drawl soaking his words with ease. His trademark smirk was glued to his face as if he had no control over it.

"Keep it quiet back there. This isn't conversation time," the 'officer' riding shotgun warned.

Joshua rolled his eyes. "Come on, ease up. Y'all know this ain't real, right?"

Once again, the car fell silent.

. . .

They were a few blocks away from the campus when the driver pulled over. He reached over into the center console and pulled out a blindfold. "You're putting this on," he ordered. "Stanford County Prison's warden doesn't want you making up no escape plot."

Joshua sighed inwardly, but still allowed the passenger to use the fabric to cover his eyes.. Once it was secure, he heard doors open and shut, a seatbelt click into place, and felt the car jolt to a start.

Joshua's sense of direction was immediately thrown off. His fingers itched for a cigarette. He felt dizzy and needed the nicotine to settle his body. Reminding himself that it was only a prison simulation, he relaxed, exhaling as his body depressed against his seat.

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop, and Joshua heard the unbuckling of seatbelts. Finally, the door to his left opened, his seatbelt snapped from around him, and hands were on his arms, pulling him out of the car. He was led quite a ways away before he was shoved and let go of. Suddenly, another's hands held him, but were no longer rough and led him softly; kindly.

A soft pressure on his chest alerted him to stop, which Joshua did. For the first time since he left the car, he heard a person's voice.

"Mr. Dun," the voice boomed, "the crime you have committed is your basis for being admitted into Stanford County Prison. This is where you will be for the foreseeable future if you choose not to get your shit together. You eat here, you sleep here, you live here. Wood, get his blindfold off."

At that, the soft, kind hands left Joshua's arm and moved to take the fabric from over his eyes. The first person Joshua saw had long, curled hair and a baby's face that was evident even with the reflective glasses covering over his eyes. 'Wood' offered Joshua a quick smile before grasping onto his arm once again, standing to his left.

Joshua then got a look at the... the prison. He felt an odd sensation in his chest. What was this? He had signed up for a simulation. He thought he was going to be in a classroom at the university. But this wasn't what he was expecting. This felt... real.

"Welcome to Stanford County Prison," the man from earlier said. "My name is Tyler Joseph and I am the warden. Wood, Urie, Fuentes, get him clean." Tyler turned and left then, going through a door and disappearing from the prison.

Two more men dressed as guards came closer to Josh, then led him toward a wall so that he was facing it.

"Clothes off," one ordered. His skin was tan and his hair long and dark.

Joshua sputtered in confusion. "What the hell, man?"

"We have to get you sprayed down," Wood explained softly. "It's okay. Let's just get it over with. You have to get your clothes off."

Joshua hesitated, looking between the three men around him.

. . .

In the office, Tyler, Mike, Donald, and Skyler all watched the events through the screen that broadcasted the goings on of the prison.

"That's my little brother, man," Mike said, shaking his head. "He don't know what he's getting himself into."

"Why aren't they forcing him?" Tyler wondered aloud. The guards weren't comfortable with their positions yet. How long would it take for them to figure out the power that they possessed?

"Be patient," Donald assured him. "It's not easy for any of them. It's a rude awakening. Give it time."

. . .

Joshua looked between the three men around him, deciding whether to rebel. His instinct said yes, no, his instinct said hell yeah. But was this a good time to trust his instinct? Joshua rummaged his brain, looking for the answers he could not find. His head felt cloudy and muddy and fuck, why hadn't they let him finish his cigarette? Would they even allow him to smoke here?

"Come on, man," said the man with quiffed chocolatey brown hair.

"Wait, can I - I can't concentrate. Can I have a cigarette?" Joshua asked quietly.

"This isn't a negotiation," one man said. The badge on the left side of his chest read Fuentes.

"Hey, wait, it's okay. Right, Otto?" The speaking man's badge said Urie. "Look, if you cooperate, we'll get you a cigarette. How about this: two cigarettes a day. Yeah?"

"Yes," Joshua answered instantly. "God, yes, thank you." Immediately, he began removing his clothes. The cold air hit his skin in the most unpleasant of places, causing goosebumps to rise all over his body. As soon as the final articles had been removed, Fuentes' hands were on Joshua's back, pressing him against the wall by the spot between his shoulder blades. Josh resisted a bit, keeping his lower half off the wall in an effort to keep his cock off it.

"Against the wall," Fuentes ordered.

And again, Joshua wanted to rebel. But he thought of the nicotine in his lungs that he craved so badly and sighed. He stepped forward, bringing his toes to the wall. Joshua's cock pressed uncomfortably against the wall as he tried not to think about how many germs were multiplying on his manhood.

Suddenly and without warning, there was a hose, pointed at Joshua's back, turned on. It pressed him onto the wall even more, stinging with every droplet that made contact. A guttural whine made it's way out of Joshua's throat. He could practically feel his body turning a bright pink as the pressure intensified. Josh's face pressed against the wall when the hose was directed to the back of his head.

It wasn't soon enough when the water hose was off his skin.

"Turn around," Joshua heard Fuentes say. He complied, wanting to get the worst part over with fast.

Then the pressure was there, intense and pushing Joshua's dick back with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs. This was worse than a kick or a punch or an ill-timed soccer ball flying through the air. This was deliberate and painful. Tears gathered in Joshua's eyes and streamed down his face, mixing with the water that was now splashing his chest, face, and upper thighs.

Finally, the water was off. Joshua fell to his hands and knees, straining to catch his breath.

"Up," Fuentes ordered while Josh shook his head.

"Please, just one second. Just give me a second."

In an instant, Urie was beside him, kneeling. "Here, I've got some clothes for you. Once you put these on, I'll get you your cigarette."

"It hurts," Joshua whispered.

"I know," Wood said softly. "I'm sorry, dude."

. . .

Joshua was dressed in the smock he was given. It had a number on the front and back: 878. It matched the cell he was assigned. With no underwear given to him, his dick was left to hang uncomfortably in the dress. He sat on his bed for a while before Wood came back, a lighter and cigarette in his left hand.

"My name is Otto," he said as he stuck the nicotine through the cell bars. "If you need anything, you can ask me or Urie. His name is Brendon, if you were wondering. I work the night shift and he works the day shift, so once all the other guys get here, he'll get going. I'm not sure who else is on the night shift with me, but don't worry about it too much. It'll be just fine."

Joshua took the cigarette between his teeth, lighting the opposite end. He could have cried when the nicotine flooded his system, calming him.

This is how Joshua Dun's first 15 minutes in Stanford County Prison transpired.