I hate communal showers.

Even though it was one of the many routines in my months as a prisoner of Sihlreco. Even though I had learned to accept the fact that I would be showering with other men for the rest of my life. I still hated it. It's not like I hadn't done it before in basic training but still it was always uncomfortable to be around these men who were pretty much total strangers, seeing them at their most vulnerable, most basic forms.

I know, it's probably one the strangest things for someone in my position to fixate on. Most people would think that Marcus Fenix would be more focused on trying to appeal his sentence, paying back the Locust, or even taking the drastic route and trying to break out of prison. And yes my mind was on all of those things and more. But it was also on the times when I had to stand ass-naked around dozens of other men three nights a week.

My main reason was no doubt the fact that most of these men liked to make shower time their own personal time to, well, get to know each other better. It never failed. I would emerge in the shower and find that my fellow inmates (and some guards) were already initiating various acts. Sometimes it was too obvious. I'd see two, maybe three men to themselves in one area of the large shower, the larger top holding the smaller bottom steady as he drove himself into his partner, while the third wheel was usually waiting his turn. Whether or not the catcher was willing was usually irrelevant.

Other times I would notice that groups of maybe six to ten men, their backs and bare asses turned toward the shower entrance, making taunts and cheering on the action that they were bearing witness too. I made a special point to avoid these groups as well.

Fortunately, I was big enough to avoid any sort of unwilling encounter. Sure I had guys, usually smaller than me, come to me and try to silently proposition me before showers with a subtle touch on the shoulder or a glance that lasted a little too long. Sometimes, I would get guys that would be so bold as to make a grab for me in while I tried to shower, grabbing my dick from behind, only to be elbowed in the face.

I was not to be fucked with. At all. At least, I thought that was the case.

And then, on that evening everything changed.

There was a man by the name of Garn. And really, "man" is a word that I use loosely when talking about this monster. I guessed he was around 250 to 300 pounds of muscle, 6'9", and probably one of the most composedly violent inmates in the entire prison. I had watched this man beat another inmate to death with his fists and then proceed to walk away with a smile on his face beside the guards that took him to solitary. He was so intimidating to the inmates that even one glare or a vicious smile was enough to cause people to back off and away.

And in showers well…let me just say that Garn was a serial rapist of epidemic proportions that had his way with any man that he chose. No questions, no protests, just sex. And when Garn had sex it was a shower wide event that most everyone came to watch and get off to. One evening featured a guard that actually offered himself to Garn. Perhaps the guard didn't know or realize how seriously the inmate would take his offer because by the end of the "event" the guard had to be admitted for severe injuries due to Garn abusing the hell out of him.

The man appeared to know no compassion and had little to speak of in the form of boundaries. He did what he want to whoever the hell he wanted. And that night, I was his next pick.

"Hey, Fenix," I heard a gruff voice speak behind me. It was a voice I recognized instantly but I neither seized up nor turned around immediately. I was alarmed. Hell, let's face it I was scared. But I wasn't about to let Garn see me pissing myself.

"Hey! Did you hear me, Fenix?" Garn called a bit louder, a bit closer. I could hear the commotion of the communal shower die down by a lot. People were obviously looking in our direction now.

"Yeah, I heard ya," I said back not turning around to face the man, "Doesn't mean I wanna talk back."

"Oh really?" Garn said, so close and so low that the hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end from being matted down by sweat and water. "Well I just wanted to have a friendly chat, Fenix, that's all." I felt a hand on my shoulder and I quickly swatted it away and turned around to find that another man was standing behind me. He was about as big as me and looked like one of Garn's faithful. The other one stood next to him a ruthless and knowing smile across his face.

"What the fuck do you want?" I said and the men chuckled nearing toward my sides as the shower's inhabitants began to close a circle around us all, Garn's naked form drawing nearer to me. "Can't a man take a shower in peace?"

The circle finally closed and Garn had finally made his way in front of me, his beefy arms folded over his moist chest, his shoulder length hair matted to his hardened and scarred features. He drew his face close to mind and then stopped only inches from my own, a hungry smile on his face.

Garn looked directly into my eyes, his rough, scarred and surprisingly handsome features miraculously illuminated in this desperate and hopeless communal shower. He even let a few teeth show and it was a surprisingly clean and white smile, such a contrast to an otherwise beast of a man.

I didn't know what to do. I stood there in the showers facing him, and although I had never before felt this way about another man, I felt myself stiffen, and those green eyes of his, nearly obscured by his long reddish-brow hair looked down to my nether regions and chuckled. I turned around quickly, just as I felt his big, calloused paw land on my shoulder. I didn't want him to see how hot my face was becoming, how rock hard my cock was getting.

"Look at that!" one of the men surrounding us exclaimed quietly, "That son of a bitch is getting hard!" The rest of the men murmured their excitement and I noticed that a few of them remained quiet, their hands slowly moving toward their midsections.

"Looks like you're a hero in more ways than one, Fenix," Garn said and I felt his hand gently but firmly turn me back around. And there I stood, my veined member, paler than the rest of my body, jutting out from a wily bush of curly brown pubes, my sagging testes hanging underneath the shaft, the foreskin covering the head, which was no doubt already forming that familiar clear liquid at the tip. I knew I was big. Not just in my mind but also because some of the more secure guys back in the barracks during boot camp told me as much. And way back when I used to have time to bang women they all screamed with a distinct mixture of pleasure and pain, so I knew I was doing something right.

In those times I had never been shy. I wasn't some pervert that just whipped it out. But if the thing between my legs was ever commented on, it wasn't a big deal. But here, now, in front of these men who leered at me, eyeing my naked form, some of them beginning to stroke their own manhood, made me wish that I was covered up and away from their prying eyes.

"Move man," I grunted with force and began to walk away but Garn placed his hand on my chest, taking care to rub the hair on my pecs as he pushed me closer to the shower wall. I could feel the water drenching the back of my head, matting my hair to my scalp. The circle of surrounding men closed in.

I could take him, I thought. I wasn't known as "Tank" among some of the COGs for nothing. I could probably get a punch off then tackle this guy to the floor and maybe one of the men that encircled us would do something. But then I realized that they wouldn't. These bastards were expecting a show, and they were waiting, the hunger clear in their eyes.

"Sorry, Fenix," Garn said as he smiled at me again, burning hunger in his eyes lapping like flames over my body. "Can't let you outta here until I get a samplin' of ya'."

I made to struggle but as soon as I started it was over as Garn pushed me completely into the wall, the hand formerly stroking his cock pinning my chest with his forearm, the other that was on my shoulder having pushed me flat against the tiled and grimy wall. His face was now deadly serious as his eyes looked me up and down, drinking me in, his cock still rock hard, still throbbing. I didn't want that thing near me. Gods, how I didn't want that thing in me!

"Hold him back," Garn growled to two capable men on either side of me and they rushed in and held me against the wall to keep me from struggling. I thought they were gonna turn me around, push me down, get me ready so their leader could rape me.

Even though I wanted to remain calm I began to hyperventilate in spite of myself. I didn't want this! I didn't want to be violated! What had I ever done to deserve this? What went on in these men's minds to bring such pain upon another man? On another human being?

Garn had released the hand that was gripping my shoulder but still had his right forearm pinned across my chest. His wild eyes were done drinking me in and now looked directly into my own. As he neared closer toward my face, I could smell his heavy, hot breath, which stunk of the slop that we were all forced to eat earlier in the evening. He neared closer to my pursed lips and I thought he made to kiss me, but then stopped just short of them and smiled before passing them and coming closer to my ear.

"You ready?" he whispered gruffly and I let out an enraged yell as he backed his head away.

The men in the shower began to chuckle, lewdly stroking their genitals as they watched Garn rub my body with his rough hands. I felt sick, very near the point of vomiting as I watched this man's member twitch, watch as he ogled my member, my body, my face, and I couldn't help that my own cock was standing at attention, waiting for someone to grasp it, love it for all it was worth before finally repaying them with a spit of generous proportions.

"You're gonna be a mighty nice lay," Garn said and I thought this was it. My ass was about to be torn in half. I felt the water that had dampened my back trickle down my crack and my ass clenched, afraid for what it was about to endure. So I didn't know what to think when this man of easily 300 pounds of pure muscle, battle hardened and probably this prison's serial rapist, slowly bent down between my legs and, with one final look of lust etched across his face, took my 9-inches down his throat.

At once I was both disgusted and grateful, repulsed and drawn to this man that had done the exact opposite of what I had expected him to do. He was blowing me. And well! His lips, though chapped, felt wondrous around my shaft, wrapping around the flesh and sucking so hard that I thought he doubled as a fucking vacuum cleaner.

I barely noticed that the men around us had all lost their leering grins, their sinister expressions, and had even stopped the act of pleasuring themselves. Even the men holding me back had loosened their grip just enough for me to get the hell out of there, but I no longer wanted to. They all stared as their leader kneeled before another man and pleasured him with all the zeal that any high-class whore worth her asking price would present. And then they began stroking again, quite possibly with even more fervor than before, silent, watching, their eyes never leaving the point where my cock and Garn's lips met.

I was in ecstasy, leaning into the wall as Garn pushed his head closer to the base of my shaft, gagging slightly as he inched closer. I wanted to grab his head and force feed him the rest and made to do so but he swatted my hand away and gently bit my cock as a warning. I placed my hand back to my side and cried out as he shoved the final inches down his throat, then whipped his tongue across the head as he pulled away.

At this action, one of the men lost it, groaning as he came, and I just managed to see a group of the other men turn to a lanky brown-haired man convulsing to every orgasm, his average sized cock dribbling out semen onto the shower floor.

Some of the men cheered, others placing their hands on the man's shoulders, slapping him audibly on the ass, still others turning their attention back toward Garn and myself, stroking furiously.

And then I felt I was nearing the brink. It could have been a number of things that were setting me off but all I knew was that everything was coming together into one perfect moment that would culminate into probably the most amazing orgasm I would ever experience.

…and then he stopped.

I was ripped away from that pleasure point and my head jerked forward again, my face probably an expression of shock and anger that he stopped, a sense of longing in my loins for him to go on. He stood upright again, his face inches from mine and smiled, licking his lips. He took his left hand and put it behind my head and drew me closer until our foreheads touched. He made a low, almost inaudible noise when our heads were together, our eyes staring into one another's. I looked hard into his face, my expression steely, and I made the choice to taste him.

It was a forceful kiss; open-mouthed, feral, my tongue whipping against his, fighting for dominance. I won or he let me win, and I drove my tongue as far as it could go. I wanted him to gag but he only breathed deeply, his eyes still open staring into my own, the smile very apparent on his scarred face.

Another man groaned deeply as he reached orgasm and I heard the whoops of the other inmates as they watched the action going on in front of them. I no longer cared that we had company. For this moment, it was just me and Garn and nothing else really mattered. I wanted to tear him apart.

We separated, Garn's mouth turned up in a huge grin. He sighed and the hand that had gripped my head came around and slapped me lazily across the face, only to reconnect with my neck, trailing down to my chest and my nipples, my stomach, and finally my throbbing dick.

"It's been a long time…" he said quietly, more to himself than to me or anyone else and I received my second shock in the communal shower as Garn changed hands on my member, turned around, and with his back arched, the beast slowly backed his ass onto my twitching crotch.

As I reveled in the feeling of Garn's hole wrapping itself around my shaft, I could feel Garn tremble, hear his deep, guttural groans as he slid himself slowly around my cock. The men were silenced, save for another grunt of relief and the slicking sounds of numerous dicks being stroked.

I was silent as well, although my mouth was gaping, stretched into a silent yell of immense pleasure as I experienced, for the first time in nearly two years, the sensation of a tight ass. My arms freed themselves from my keepers' lax grip and my hands gripped his hips.

"URR!" Garn grunted as I slammed into him for the first time and as hard as I could. I saw his head turn slightly, the smile still plastered across his face, albeit it was somewhat drunken looking as if my cock had put him in a slight haze. His hand had left the base of my shaft and was now stroking his own sizeable and bushy dick, the other pinching a nipple on his bare, scarred chest.

I was pumping him hard but taking in the sensation of his ass, working a slow rhythm that was punctuated with a forceful thrust from my pelvis into his ass. It was a smooth ride that I was unwilling to leave anytime soon.

Another grunt from our audience, another whoop echoing in the shower as a man in the back came into the steam.

My head went forward again and I looked down at Garn, who's arched back had pressed closer toward me, so close that he was almost touching my chest. He was still stroking his dick, making almost no noise except for a pant or grunt every once in a while. The water that streamed from the showerhead soaked his back and dampened my chest, streaming between our connected bodies to the root that I was planting in his ass.

I made a sudden and wild choice and brought one hand from the beast's hip and onto his chest, drew him forward, all the way to me so that his back pressed firmly into my chest, long strokes reduced to rapid humps. I grasped underneath his chin firmly and drew his head to the side, his mouth parted, his moans deep, almost like growls. I drew my head closer to him.

I tasted him. Deep. Deeper than before. I didn't need to fight for dominance that time. There was no need.

And then I felt it. That rush. The feeling I always got when I was close. I began to intake more air, my face becoming hot, my humps becoming fierce, raw, beautiful.

And he pushed away, the smile reduced to an expression of passion I could have looked at forever. His lips parted and he made a small grunt, his tongue poking slightly between the parting of flesh.

"Give 'em a show, Fenix," he growled in a low whisper and turned his head back around.

I began to grunt. Deep, growling, hungry grunts that almost sounded to me like I was in pain. But what I was feeling was far from pain. I was experiencing probably the best orgasm of my life and as I felt that final rush, I pulled out of Garn and grasped my cock in my hand, stroking my reddened member until it spat my pearly juices onto Garn's back. It was way more than I normally shot and as I made audible sighs, spasms racking my body with each orgasmic wave, and as I closed my eyes to take it all in, I listened to the grunts of the men around me, listened as Garn bellowed too, his ejaculation no doubt a grand finale in its own right.

When I finally opened my eyes, Garn was already upright and walking away, the group of men that had surrounded us either converging around him or going back to their showers.

And I was left standing there, breathing heavily, my cock softening, my fists clenching and unclenching, wondering what the hell it was all about, trying to fight the undeniable urge to chase after him, embrace him, to taste him once more.

But I would never get the chance.

Shit. I hate communal showers.