Piper's Price

by D. A. Maddox

  It wasn’t so bad, really. The cot had a full complement of sheets and a decent-sized pillow. There was a sink as well as a toilet, even a desk and a chair, complete with stationery. Under the plastic lamp—which was affixed, immovably, to the desk’s corner—he saw the e-reader he’d been promised.

  And he had it to himself. There were other prisoners in protective custody, but not many. Most were older than he was by a count of decades. Their crimes were more serious than his, and their sentences much longer. Several had cut deals to get these “room” assignments, ratting out criminals more notorious than themselves.

  Robbie hadn’t enjoyed their company at lunch, although no one had been especially nasty to him. He’d felt like a kid at the grownups’ table. He hadn’t gotten their humor, either, and suspected many of their jokes had been secretly aimed at him.

  He was glad to be away, and to have been assigned a cell that was actually nicer than the cabin he’d had to share with three others at summer camp, back in the day. So, not like jail. Not real jail, anyway.

  But when Nurse Reyes-Garcia closed the door on him, he heard the door auto-click into place.

  I could have waited before coming here, he reflected. They’d offered him an hour long “session” with Dr. Cossack. He’d declined, not feeling especially up to recounting his day to a stranger.

  Well, Doc, I’m not really feeling myself. Nurse Garcia put her finger up my butt—which was kind of a first for me, you know—and then I got my ass spanked by another woman who makes me want to come in my pants.

  Nope. He’d keep those things to himself.

  “Look up,” Nurse Garcia said, her voice now mic’d electronically through a speaker in the door. “On the ceiling by the window. Do you see it?”

  The window was a horizontal rectangle, doubtless thicker than ordinary glass. Through it, Robbie could see the real prison building, which was surrounded by a fence crowned with razor wire. But inside, with him, right next to the window, was a motion-sensitive camera that moved every time he moved, just like the ones in the hall.

  “Yes, Matron.”

  “You are being filmed most every second of your stay from this moment forward. The feed is already streaming on the Consequences Live! homepage. Tomorrow, your discipline will be on television—because yes, you have been approved, Robbie McNeal. You are officially in the program. Congratulations. You’ll be a free man again in three and a half days.”

  Robbie sighed, rather overcome with the combined feelings of relief and resignation. He waved to the camera. “Hello,” he said, not knowing what else to do. At least he was fully dressed, at present.

  “In the meantime, please keep the camera in mind before you give in to temptation with yourself. Such a decision is quite common with newly-processed male virgins like yourself. All the pleasant traumas of that first Intake, coupled with boredom, will weigh on your mind if you allow it.”

  The thought had occurred to him, even though his church forbade such things. How much more sinful could it be than what had just been done to him, how it had so unexpectedly … excited him?

  “Never forget,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said, “America is watching you, my little celebrity man-toy. Even in the dead of night.”

  ****

  [Official Release and Consent to Service Document 10286c: Michael Schulsky. Page 7: Candidate Interview Transcript (partial)]:

  Officer: The prospect of outing yourself on television bothers you?

  Michael: No. It’s not that. I am who I am. No big deal.

  Officer: Then what’s the problem?

  Michael: [quietly] He shouldn’t even be there.

  Officer: But … aren’t you the least bit interested?

  Michael: I like him, all right? And—I think he likes me, too. He won’t admit it—he’s scared to death of his dad—but…

  Officer: How would you know?

  Michael: Just something in the way he looked at me during art class. You know, when I was posing.

  Officer: Art class? Posing?

  Michael: You didn’t know? Maddy and I both did some modeling for the freshman art section. Classes were separated, though. One for the ladies, one for the guys.

  Officer: Really? This is news to me. To us.

  Michael: Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to punish him. I don’t want to hurt him.

  Officer: What if I said you wouldn’t have to? What if I told you we could leave that to Maddy and her friends? What if you could be … nice to him? Wouldn’t he welcome that?

  (Silence.)

  Officer: Or we could get someone else. Probably a stranger. Up to you.

  Chapter Eight

  Preparation

  Robbie did his best to sketch. Truly, he did. Mentally, he did all he could to transform the naked body of Michael Schulsky, his best and only real friend at college, into an object. A thing to be rendered on paper, nothing more.

  It was easier when Michael had been facing the other side of the room, the other students. But at the words, “Turn, please,” which Professor Veda Mack had uttered upon noting that most were finished with their first sketchings, Michael pivoted neatly on his feet and presented himself to Robbie’s half of the room. He stood with his arms by his sides, his head held stoically straight.

  His penis right out there, like a proud but low-hanging flag for everyone to salute.

  Robbie started with the frame, the general outline of his body. Several times, he had to go back and erase even that much—and once go to an entirely new sketch sheet. Sweat beaded at his temples as he filled in Michael’s face. His hair was down, touching his shoulders, the same glossy brown as his unconcerned eyes.

  The hollow at the juncture of neck and breastbone, then the shoulder blades. The contours of his arms, first biceps, then forearms. Hands and fingers took a while…

  Finally, under pressure of time, Robbie forced his way through the torso details, his chest, his abdomen and belly button—then lower, guided by a thin river of dark hair that channeled right to the thatch over his crotch.

  Michael’s penis stiffened and stood, the split helmet of his reddening glans like a spreading mushroom head. Robbie gasped.

  The room gasped. Professor Mack sighed.

  Michael winked at him.

  ****

  Robbie woke to an obnoxiously loud electronic buzzing that heralded the opening of his cell door. Before confronting whoever stood behind it, Robbie turned over on his cot and found, squinting up at the small window, that the sun had not yet risen. So early…

  The dream resurfaced in his mind. It was a near-perfect recollection of his first class in “The Human Form,” until the dream-Michael had sprung an erection on him and shattered the reality.

  The wink, though, when Robbie had allowed himself to glance down on Michael’s manhood—that had been real. He hadn’t taken it as proof that his friend was gay, not then. At the moment, it had seemed a gesture born of pure bravado, a pronouncement of nonchalance. Even later, plotting the doomed escapade into the girls’ locker room, Robbie half-expected Michael was just joking around. He had a weird sense of humor, did Michael Schulsky—

  A familiar voice from the doorway, “Up, Resident 186. Rise and shine.”

  Robbie slung his feet over the side of the cot and stood. Resident 186, he thought. That’s all I am. I’m less than human to these people. I don’t even have the right to my name.

  It was Officer Kersey, who Robbie assumed had been given the role of “bad cop” among the punishment wardens. She stood in the doorframe, needlessly catching him on a handheld video camera as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The other camera—the one in the room—audibly tracked him if he so much as twitched.

  “Put your hat on, Resident 186,” she said. “It comes with you everywhere.”

  Robbie donned the Consequences, Live! baseball cap and waited, saying nothing. Of the three punishment wardens, this was the one least likely to accord him any mercy should he speak without permission. Odd, coming to that conclus
ion, as Officer Kersey was also the only one among them who hadn’t caused him any real physical distress so far.

  “In the hall. Let’s go.”

  Out into the hall he went. Then, at her direction, he padded in his socks and jumpsuit back to the Intake area, to the wide-open bathroom, only to find that all of the partitioning had been removed. Behind him, Officer Kersey never took the camera lens off him until they arrived. Opposite the wall of shower heads was the tripod camera, which she now went to.

  In the middle of the room stood his Matron.

  “We begin with your preparation and grooming,” she said by way of greeting as Officer Kersey got the larger equipment up and running. “And a few very minor embarrassments to begin your punishment properly. As I have explained, your interview has determined the order of much of what will happen during your stay with us. We begin small. We escalate over time until your release.”

  There was no one else, not even Intake Officer Davies.

  “At this point in the process, by law I must remind you that you have the right to withdraw from this program at any time. Do you wish to withdraw?”

  Do I wish to? Robbie thought. Yes—hell, yes! Of course, I do!

  But knowing the alternative, he didn’t dare.

  “No, Matron,” he said. “Please—what happens now?”

  “It is five-thirty in the morning, Robbie,” she went on. “And as early as two-thirty on the west coast of the United States. Most people are asleep right now. There will be few people watching during this first session, which we call the cover shoot. Our feed scrambles all attempts at recording the session, so you may be comforted to know that although people will see this, there will be no public record of it.”

  This is going to be bad, Robbie thought, waiting for it. So, so bad. Don’t cry. Mom might see this.

  Robbie’s mom was an early bird. The whole family was.

  “Due to certain unforeseen eventualities and possibilities that have arisen with interviews subsequent to yours,” she said, now circling him, “we are beginning early to increase our scheduling flexibility for later. Normally you would first have had your breakfast, and then we would begin. But fate has conspired to change our timing on the first day. Your second morning session has been shifted to the afternoon, and so we get this out of the way without so much fanfare. Cover shoot is typically at?”

  “’Round eight-thirty,” Kersey chipped in, adjusting the focus. “Kind of an alternative to Good Morning, America, for people who are into this kind of thing.”

  “And that would have meant a lot more viewers. So, be comforted.”

  Robbie couldn’t take his eyes from the camera.

  “Are you comforted, Robbie?”

  “No, Matron. I’m sorry. It’s just hard to be comforted right now.”

  “I understand. How many viewers at present, Officer Kersey?”

  Officer Kersey stepped back to check the camera reading. “Seventy-five, with a steady uptick,” she said. “Not bad. Pretty good, actually, this time of day.”

  Seventy-five, Robbie thought, straining to feel relieved. Okay, could be worse.

  But Nurse Reyes-Garcia shook her head at her partner, then dutifully explained, “But I am afraid my partner takes certain in-house understandings for granted with our guests. This is a nationwide broadcast. The number is, more accurately, seventy-five thousand, yes?”

  “Oh. Yeah, boss. Of course.”

  Robbie felt the blush come before the tears, before the command was given. He literally gulped.

  “Take off your clothes, Robbie.”

  His lips failed at words. Probably a good thing. He looked back at the camera.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia checked her watch. “Step to, my honeypot. Strip naked.”

  You have thirty seconds, he reminded himself.

  Robbie tossed the hat, peeled off his socks. He fumbled with the jumpsuit zipper, managing to get it off his shoulders and all the way down without tripping over himself. Feeling himself desperately short on time, unable to wrench his gaze free of the camera, he hauled the tank top over his head and let it drop.

  And stood there in his jail issue briefs.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia sighed. “My capacity for compassion and empathy is great, but not without limits,” she said, taking a knee behind him, holding him at the hips. “You cannot pretend not to know what ‘strip naked’ means.”

  There was nothing between him and the camera, not even her. His breath quickened. He gripped his underwear on both sides just above her hands.

  “This is going to happen,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia calmly said. “Let it happen, Robbie. Let go.”

  For just a moment, Robbie loosened his grip—

  And felt his underwear slide down his legs, over his ankles. Robbie covered his penis with both hands and stood thusly before the camera, red-faced and utterly nude.

  “Shame shot,” Officer Kersey said, doing a silent five-count over her head with her fingers ticking them down. “Oh, that’s a good one. Very expressive. Okay, okay—hold that a little longer, actually. Superimposing show title, center screen, for the cover shot.”

  Officer Reyes-Garcia was back on her feet, standing at his side. “Right now, the words Consequences, Live! appear over your hands and genitals for the benefit of our viewing audience, so that they know the show has officially started. That will also serve as packaging art for hard copy sales, which only the state has a right to distribute. Look up, Robbie. Do not hide your face.”

  Robbie looked up. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but he didn’t want to give up the last tenuous hold he still had on his modesty to do it. Instead, he let the tears roll. No sobbing, no complaining. Nothing too dramatic.

  “Got it. That’s plenty of that,” Kersey announced. But she kept the camera on him.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia twirled a finger. “Turn one hundred and eighty degrees. Show your ass. There you go. So perky. Very good. Face forward again, please.”

  Robbie complied with every order. He did not speak. Just make it through, he told himself. Just three days. Three days.

  “America is looking at your naked body, Robbie,” Nurse Reyes-Garcia said. “Your face is very red. Are you quite embarrassed?”

  “Yes, Matron,” he said, glad to hear his voice whole, unbroken in spite of his predicament.

  “Would you go so far as to say that you are humiliated?”

  “Yes, Matron. Very.” Unspeakably, he didn’t add.

  “Put your hands behind your head, Robbie. Officer Kersey, we shall have a closeup on his penis for the early risers watching at home. It is his first public nudity, so be sure to capture it well.”

  Robbie’s mouth hung open. He blinked at her, furiously. But Officer Reyes-Garcia was unmoved.

  Robbie raised his arms, put his hands behind his head, and silently thanked God for his current lack of an erection. He was just too mortified. He felt faint.

  She could have done it with the zoom lens. Robbie knew that much about cameras. Instead, Officer Kersey rolled the camera in his direction, adjusting to shoot lower as she drew closer. She held up her hand for another five-count, locking the camera in place.

  “Hold position, Robbie,” said Nurse Reyes-Garcia.

  Robbie drew in a shuddering breath. “Th-this … this is … awful.”

  “Yes, but hold position anyway. Go ahead and let yourself feel it, how awful it is. That is the point. This is the way in which you wished to secretly observe Madison Piper and her friends, yes?”

  “No!”

  Kersey then abandoned the tripod and unclipped the handheld from her belt. Still shots.

  “No? Really? Robbie, you’ve been so honest with me so far—”

  “I mean—I mean, not really … just…”

  Click. Flash. Click. Flash.

  “Just?”

  “Just Maddy.”

  “Oh, Robbie. My young peeping Tom, how sweet you are.”

  Kersey snorted. “Almost done, perv,” she said. “And … just a l
ittle longer to put name and age-identifying caption under this silver spoon’s junk for thumbnail swiping.”

  “I think his penis is quite nice, Officer Kersey.”

  Kersey shrugged, allowing it, returning to the tripod. “I’ve seen worse. Got a pretty big trim job coming up, though. Could crop dust those armpits.”

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia drew out the device for monitoring Robbie’s blood pressure and pulse. “Oh, my. He really is feeling it. Draw back, Officer Kersey. Keep filming, but give him back his personal space for the moment.”

  Officer Kersey withdrew, but the camera stayed on him.

  Nurse Reyes-Garcia came into frame and gave him an affectionate slap on the rump. “Okay, Robbie. Break position. Take a shower.”

  ****

  Maddy Piper never saw the Intake entrance. Instead, Counselor Lavallee parked her unmarked car in the lot right out front, visitor’s side. The sun was only just starting to peep over the horizon, casting an orange glow over the news trucks and scattered clusters of media that had been allowed to gather outside the station.

  “I don’t know about this,” she said warily, wishing that among the various things she had packed for this adventure she had brought a pair of dark glasses.

  Lavallee chuckled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They won’t recognize you. People come in and out of here all the time—”

  “I was in the courtroom,” Maddy said.

  “And were neither photographed nor identified,” Lavallee interjected. “Victim confidentiality. The smart news groups aren’t even here. It’s not like they’re going to get anything by camping out in front of the station. The top end crews that were in the courtroom yesterday are long gone—no doubt laying siege to Senator McNeal’s house, who’s in much more trouble than his son.”

  True. Probably.

  “All you are is one family member among many come to visit her criminally wayward relation.”

  “You sure?”

  “Come on,” Lavallee said, opening the driver’s side door and letting herself out, then ambling around to Maddy’s side and opening the door for her as well. “You’ll see. Leave your things, though. That would be a little obvious. I’ll send for them later.”