THE INMATE: Prison Code (Ch. 2)

The night in the attic passed in very different ways for its inhabitants. While Vik slept like a log on his double mattress and snored peacefully, Guille tossed and turned on the small bed, with the window open to stifle the sweat and hoping his thoughts would flee and let him sleep.
But that didn't happen. He barely got a wink of sleep all night.

And to his damnation, nothing improved in the following days.

The meticulous order that Guillermo had worked so hard to maintain both in the attic and in his life crumbled completely in just a few hours, devoured by a massive presence that seemed to expand with every corner it touched. There was no prior warning or gentle transition; the sepulchral silence of the apartment was suddenly replaced by the echo of heavy footsteps, an indifference that clashed head-on with the social integration manuals of his doctorate, and a body as huge and large as it was magnetic that moved about as if he himself had built the space.

Vik did not adapt to the environment; he forced the environment to orbit around him, dragging with him a raw, prison-hardened energy that turned the house's neatness into something dirty but hypnotic.

With the first noises of the street, Guille stretched and decided to start his day. The alarm still had two hours left before deafening the small room with its shrill noise, but he had been tossing and turning for hours, so he decided that 7:20 was a good time to start the day.

The clothes still grouped in piles on the floor, others in the small wardrobe he had installed, reminded him that his house remained defiled.

He took advantage of the silence of the house and the fact that Viktor was still asleep to take a shower. His animal instinct led him to grab his cock under the warm water, and soon his member reached 17 centimeters. He felt his hand masturbating the tip energetically while his mind recalled the prisoner's muscular body, his smell of sweat, and his pre-seminal essence…

—What's wrong with you, Guillermo. Stop —he said to himself, letting go of his member as if it were the devil himself—. You can't let yourself get carried away by this. You are not this —he repeated over and over.

He decided to get out of the shower and dress in a striped shirt and white pants. He didn't have to be at his university office until 9:30, so he decided to take it easy.

Breakfast was his moment of the day. However, it was when he truly relaxed and organized himself. But from that morning on, nothing would be the same.

While enjoying a book and a healthy breakfast of avocado and salmon with cereal, his phone started to ring. His mother.

He had grown used years ago to his mother calling him every day. She called it maternal-filial love. He had a rather different idea.

—Yes, Mom, everything's fine in the apartment... —Guille was saying in a tense voice, forcing a smile that no one c...