Jackson had given him some details of what to expect, and to sum it up in two words, it was relative anarchy. Guards were always on patrol, but they only intervened in extreme cases, generally only when someone’s life was at stake. Other than that, provisional candidates were free to do whatever they liked, and to associate with whomever they wanted in the block. That said, there were certain incentives in place. While each provisional candidate was provided with a guaranteed level of hormones and food–anything else, including tobacco or alcohol products, would have to be purchased. Credits could be obtained by completing jobs and chores, or traded from other candidates if they could be persuaded to do so. What that meant, in the end, was that the young men in there would often do anything to get the credits they needed to thrive. Jackson told him, with that same odd smirk, that the most important thing he could have there, was power and strength. “They want to see if you have what it takes to be a man,” he said, “because that’s what they want to see. It takes real strength of character though, if you want to be classified a level five candidate like me–and I don’t think you have it.”
Tanner took offense at that–and from the smirk on Jackson’s face, he wondered if that was exactly why he’d said it to him. Still, nothing Jackson described would have really prepared him for that first day in the provisional block–P Block, as the guards called it. Now, he really was in a prison. The guards led him through the block on his first day, and the young men in there all gave him the same look as he passed–some odd combination of suspicion and desire that made him incredibly uncomfortable. Thankfully, candidates were given their own personal cells–small, but private with doors that could lock, though any guard could open them if they needed to. He was also given his introductory allowance of credits, and the screen on his band turned on for the first time, allowing him to look through the virtual store.
In addition to any number of personal items, he could purchase a variety of tobacco products (he immediately ordered a few cigars–which to his annoyance cost him half the allowance right there) as well as magazines (all of them erotic and all of them covered with faggots) extra food rations he could collect at mess, and even beer. But it was the hormones and supplements that interested him. He couldn’t purchase drugs individually–instead, the store offered packages which promised certain benefits. He discovered that pretty much all of them guaranteed some level of body hair growth, and he turned the band off, disgusted with himself and his body, and laid down on the bed for a few minutes, before deciding he should go get something to eat–only to be jumped by a gang of boys who’d been waiting for the newbie to emerge from his room. They beat him to the floor in a moment, and told him they wouldn’t drag him back to their place for a gangbang if he dropped his entire allowance in their accounts. He didn’t have his full allowance, of course, but the young men settled for the rest of his credits and blowjobs in the hallway instead. Thankfully, he thought as he struggled up, he’d thought to buy cigars ahead of time–and then kicked himself for being thankful for something as dumb as that.
Things got worse before they got better for Tanner. Jobs were first come first serve each day, and he’d never been that motivated to do anything other than swim, and certainly not to do anything as boring and dull as work in the kitchen or do laundry. Still, once that initial supply of cigars ran out and he tried to quit cold turkey, he realized just how dependent Jackson had made him to tobacco–and he found himself in the horrifying position of trading sexual favors with his fellow candidates for enough credits to support his habit, but his sense of self-importance wouldn’t allow him to sink to that level for too long. After about a month, he fell into the orbit of the small gang who’d assaulted him the first day he’d arrived, and remained there.
He told himself he wouldn’t hang with them for long, that he’d get the credits some other way once he was able to survive on his own. He just…needed to smoke, and a few of the guys in the gang would fuck him in exchange for enough credits to keep his addiction fueled. However, it wasn’t too long before he discovered the gang wasn’t exactly being run by the brightest young men in the world–if anything, he seemed to be a bit of an anomaly in the facility. Most of the men here were diverted from prison sentences to fuel this experimental brand of reform, and so most didn’t even have a high school diploma. He was smarter than them, and he could use them. He figured out who the alpha was and hooked himself to him, flattering him, fucking him, anything he could do, and when he had him, well, suddenly he wasn’t aching for credits like he had been, and things got easier. He could smoke when he wanted to. He could afford more expensive hormone schedules, allowing him to bulk up substantially and hold his own in the hallways of the block. Before too long, he was joining the gang on raids, and under his direction, the group was pulling in more credits than they’d ever had before.
The longer he stayed there, the better picture he got of the small, strange, twisted society that was fostered in the block. The majority of candidates did their best to abide the rules–they did tasks and jobs, they got paid, they tried to survive. Then, there were the gangs like Tanner had found himself tangled within. They would work on occasion, but the bulk of their credits they got from their fellow candidates however they could–and Tanner expanded their racket considerably. Half the gang would provide protection of workers while the other half would then attack the protected group, simply to demonstrate the importance of the first group so they could raise their rates. Tanner rarely felt bad about this–after all, this was the world, right? If the facility wanted to prevent this, all they’d have to do is allow the guards to step in and stop them. In his mind, there was little distinction between what Jackson had done to him for the last month, and what he was doing down here–in fact, he imagined that Jackson must have done something similar to end up where he was–after all, what could be more important than entrepreneurial spirit? The men in the gang who’d been there longer were one by one pulled away by guards to go to their assignment hearings, and Tanner recruited men he’d identified with promise to help him cement his power in the block.
Bracken's Corner 