Tag Archives: the boss

The Secret Life of Brady

The Boss prison is home of the Shady City’s worst. During my time in Coldford there were none such dark tales as those that belonged to the men behind those bars. They were blood thirsty, cruel men who committed atrocities beyond your wildest fears. This story is not one of those. I’m reporter Sam Crusow and this is the secret life of Brady.  

*** 

Coldford City High Court. Located in City Main

Inmate 2069, Ryan Brady, didn’t really belong in the cells of The Boss, in the sense he wasn’t like the other murderous fiends you would expect to find there. He did belong though in the sense the Office of Law Makers had told him so. The High Court had determined him to be a danger to himself and to others. He needed to be locked up.  

It all began at the Weir Hotel in City Main where Brady had joined his bros of the Kappa So fraternity for a celebration. Robert ‘Bobby’ Owen, known to them all affectionately as Pops, was visiting the city from the Great States. You couldn’t imagine the excitement in the air. The Brady family – manufacturers of fitness wear and protein pills for decades – would sure to be front and centre. Father and son duo – Cam and Ryan Brady were brothers for life and they took that shit real serious.  

Brady gushed at how much of an honour it would be to meet Pops and maybe shake the man’s hand so he put on his best Kappa So gear and made his way to the hotel in Main.  

“Are you saying you were already in an excitable mood?”  

“We were, Your Honour. We cock walked straight there to get that party started!”  

Brady didn’t deny things might have gotten a little out of hand. Stood in the office of Judge Karyn Doyle would make anyone realise that. He was nervous with the one eyed temptress staring at him ‘monocoly’. That was his word not mine. I believe he was trying to be intellectual. He had been forced to explain why things had gotten so out of hand.  

“We were a bunch of frat boys, high on life and having a great time. Who would have thought that would get out of hand?”  

That statement wasn’t going to cut any ice. God, that eye on him made him want to rip everything off. He probably shouldn’t. Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Owen, the lawyer tasked with defending his actions, wouldn’t want that. Brady supposed he could have Judge Doyle, with that freaky one eye, across the desk and make her feel glad he hit that reporter with the inflatable dong. Since I am that reporter, dear readers, I can assure you she would not, on any account.  

“Do not,” Ronnie warned as he felt his client reach for the hem of his cropped T to pull it off and expose some well crafted abs.  

For just 19.99 you can have 1 kilo of Brady Burners, guaranteed to burn that fat! 

It wasn’t time for an advert break. Doyle didn’t look like she was up for the ads. She wanted to skip right past that. She looked like a bit of a fitness freak herself. She was a freak. She wanted some freaky deeky! Yeah, with that one eye … Concentrate Brady!  

She had brought her sub bosses with her too to glare at him with disapproval. Sophie Bergman, Brady thought would be nice but when he tried to talk to her outside she just ignored him. He yelled and yelled at her but she kept her back turned on him. Ignorant beeatch! All he wanted to do was tell her it was great to see some chicks getting some recognition around this place. She ignored him so he slapped her ass. It was a firm ass. He only did it out of professional interest. Before he could ask her what her glute routine was the big Golem guy stepped in the way and started yelling at him. Way to put a sista’ down, brah! Can’t she talk for herself? Anyway, there was Sophie glaring at him beside her one eyed sista. That eye pierced the soul and shit.  

“This hasn’t been the first time you’ve received notice for breaching the peace,” Doyle was saying to him.  

“I do apologise, Your Honour,” Ronnie was speaking on his behalf. “I can confirm the Brady family did pay for any damages incurred. The stress to Mrs Riley over the bet …”  

Eighty year old Mrs Riley had been quite taken aback at first but Brady knew she was a freak. Once she got over the shock of the bros trying to French her she was all up in that.  

“Love has no age limit, brah!” Brady blurted out.  

Doyle frowned. Sophie narrowed her gaze.  

“Mrs Riley won’t be pressing any charges,” Doyle announced.  

Ronnie nodded. He had a calm, charming smile. He was like a movie actor. He was a dashing bro. You’re a dish Ron! You’re a dish! 

“I hate to be a fusspot …”  

Urgh. There was the dude on Doyle’s other side. He was like a Christmas elf without the charm or the tinsel. You’re smiling, brah, but I’m not really feeling it. It’s not very festive in here. Try some cardio and get in those running shoes. It will save Christmas.  

“Given the amount of previous notices that you have been served I strongly believe in this case an example has to be made.”  

Wolfgang Kutz. Wolfie. The wolf man. Woooooooooooh! The cutter. The bearer of pots of fuss. Oh shit! He’s looking right at me … 

“I admit things may have gotten a little out of hand,” said Brady.  

This was the only statement Ronnie had given him permission to say.  

“I’m no stranger to antics,” said Kutz. “I pledged Theta So myself.”  

Ronnie fired a warning glare at Brady when he heard him snicker.  

Theta So wasn’t a real frat. It was a bunch of other Christmas Elves singing songs and waiting out the long winter in Jole – the country, I should explain, that Kutz came from and his Theta So fraternity.  

“However,” Kutz went on. “We can’t excuse the trauma inflicted on the couple in room 401.”  

“Open the fifth floor,” Rodney Weir had told the receptionist when the Kappa chaos rose to an extent it could not be ignored.  

“Can you remind us of what you said to the receptionist?” Doyle pressed.  

“I admit things may have gotten a little out of hand,” said Brady.  

“Hey fatty boom boom. We need a room room,” Kutz recited. 

Wow Christmas elves have a Helluva memory! It wasn’t Brady’s fault the chick was huge. He had nothing against the big chicks. He didn’t mind flapping those fat folds sometimes. It was just the receptionist looked like Boom Boom, the Brady mascot they used as the before in their before and after ads for their fat burner pills.  

“Your Honour …” Ronnie began his spiel but Brady seemed to have a better idea.  

“Your honourable eye ball …” not a good start. He claimed he had meant that in the most attractive and alluring sense. “My bros and I decided to see just how many of us we could fit in the bathtub of the room. We got to twelve and it became a real tight squeeze. We were so proud of our accomplishment so we started celebrating, naturally. The floor cracked. Weir is a cheap bastard. How were we to know the tub would fall through the floor? How were to know the occupants of the room below us were doing the nasty.” 

“Mrs Wilson’s screams could be heard throughout the hotel.”  

“I told her she had a banging rack.”  

“Mr Wilson received some injuries.”  

“I just tried to high five him.”  

“That was all bad enough but I’m sure the couple didn’t need your tips and suggestions.”  

“I was making polite conversation whilst the rest of my bros climbed out their bathroom.” 

“I’ve heard enough,” said Judge Doyle. Her snapping tone brought an end to the back and forth between Brady and Kutz. “Mr Brady,” she went on. “Since this is not the first time you have been brought before me and given the damage and distress you caused throughout the hotel I am imposing a custodial sentence upon you.”  

“Your Honour?” Ronnie tried to object. “Is that really necessary?”  

“Yes,” Doyle decided. “I believe it is. Mr Brady, I’m hereby sentencing you to four months in the custody of The Boss.”  

‘Daaaaaaaammmmn,’ Brady thought. ‘That’s cold …”  

*** 

“Keep your cell clean. No disrespect or curse words towards our librarian. Observe meal times. No fighting. No contraband. Anything found will be confiscated and you will be put to hard labour. When lights out are called you had better find yourself on the right side of the bars. One last thing … do not fuck with the warden. You’re number is 2069. You are now in servitude.”  

Brady hadn’t given the processing guards any trouble as he was led through the busy hall. Guard Trevor Gould quite enjoyed it when they brought the frat boys in. They were an excitable bunch so it was always a treat to watch The Boss tear them down.  

“Strip,” he ordered. 

When he turned he found Brady was already naked. Gould didn’t have time to question how he had managed to shed his clothes so quickly. Before he called for a cavity search Brady had already bent over and spread his buttocks.  

“Not going to find anything in there, brah,” Brady told him.  

As frustrating as it was, Gould couldn’t exactly take the word of an inmate. The warden, Remar, pressed when he noticed Gould was hesitant.  

“What are you waiting for?” He asked. 

“He’s a …”  

“I’m cooperating, brah. Get that finger right in there and search me good.”  

Remar frowned. It was a long morning and he was already pissed off inmate 4444 had tried to make a break for it. He really didn’t need the frat boy shenanigans. He pulled a pen knife. He reached under and placed the point of the blade at Brady’s testicles.  

“Let the guard do his job or I do it for him and I’ll dig right in there, real deep.”  

‘The warden has no sense of humour,’ thought Brady. He was just trying to be helpful. He guessed Gouldy preferred him to play hard to get so he instead he said, “A cavity search? Is that really necessary?”  

“Get him searched and processed and get him in south where he belongs,” ordered Remar.  

Brady acquiesced but all the fun had been drawn out it by this point. He was fingered, shackled and sent packing and it wasn’t even BDSM night. They called the warden Cerberus after the mythological three headed dog of Hades. Guardian of the underworld. He was a yappy puppy Brady decided. He needed a run at the dog park. He needed to play fetch or something. Maybe he had already had his balls off and that’s what made him cranky. He should ask … 

Along at his new home in South Unit, Brady was met by another guard. He was huge! The guy had biceps upon biceps. It was like he had quads In his arms. He could run a marathon doing a handstand. He could … 

As a fitness enthusiast he became excitable. I had to interrupt Brady in his description of Damon Cosmos codename Hercules as he was inclined to lose focus. Damon was the head guard in south and he had the physique of his mythological namesake. Damon carried a boar club with him which he held across his shoulders with his arms draped.  

“Looking good brah!” Brady called his encouragement. “Body like a God. You are working it.”  

Damon raised his eyebrows. He caught his reflection in the steel of the bars. He nodded. He had to agree.  

Brady set about making himself at home in the South Unit. He greeted his fellow incarcerated bros with the Kappa So handshake. He had a special acquaintance to make. It was as exciting as the thought of meeting Pops Owen. Whilst he was on the inside he was going to be in the presence of true Godballs and Brady was ready for that. He had to stop though. He had to catch his breath. You don’t just go running up to Godballs like that. The shine off those bad boys would burn your eyes out like staring at a solar eclipse or something. He took a breath. He summoned the strength to approach, shielding his eyes a little by raising his arm up.  

“Glorious brother George!” He called. “Am I in the presence of the Glorious Brother George.”  

“I’m brother George,” grinned George Beckingridge, possibly the last person I would describe as glorious. However, he had taken the heat for Buddy Owen so orders from The Cappy himself were the boy was to be treated like the royal bearer of Godballs he was. “This is The Beast,” George shook the chain that was attached to the neck of a creature Brady described as Cajun Cock. The Beast was badly burned, he drooled and he gargled. He used to be an eminent surgeon but thanks to his crimes he was now George’s pet. The Boss doesn’t favour many people but She found quite an interest in the Billionaire Beckingridge Boy from the financial empire.  

“Brady, reporting for duty, sir,” he cried.  

George’s grin widened. Brady tapped the head of the Cecil mouse. Respect was demanded for Cecil too. It used to be a common practice that the bros would kiss Cecil but he was a crusty little animal and infections started to spread so that brought an end to that practice.  

“I hear Jake Fullerton is in here. I want a word with him. Can you go find him?” 

And so Brady didn’t spend much time in his kit before he stripped again, dressed in a towel and made his way to the shower rooms with two completely naked bros.  

“Glorious brother George wants a word, brah,”  

“Brother George can stick his head up my arse. If he looks hard enough he’ll find the last fuck I gave about what he wanted,” had been the construction mogul’s reply.  

‘Damn, brah,’ Brady thought. ‘Cold.’ 

If he knew who George actually was he would probably not be suggesting any ass play. George Beckingridge had the habit of taking these things quite literally. However, they were old acquaintances. When Jake found out who the George they were referring to was he was going to be so surprised.  

*** 

“Fitness And Perseverance. The human body is capable of astounding things but when you FAP with Brady you are FAPPING to a better you. In fact, if you committed to a Brady FAP you’ll tell all your friends you’ve never felt better, guaranteed. Busy mum on the go? Try our quick FAP routine. It easily fits into your schedule. A little morning power FAP will set you up just right and you can FAP before you even start the school run. For our more intensive FAPPERS we have routines that will keep you FAPPING all day. You will FAP so much everybody will notice.  

“Jeez, brah? How much are you FAPPING these days?” 

“My body is carefully carved with Brady fat burners and an hourly power FAP.”  

“Wow, bro. Can I FAP?” 

“Of course you can. With Brady anyone can FAP.” 

Fitness And Perseverance Brady style. This ad was brought to you by Owen Inc.  

“Fitness and Perseverance?” Asked Captain Charles ‘Chick’ Owen asked as he switched off the advert.  

Before we continue in Brady’s servitude allow me to discuss how he became a part of the Kappa So frat legends in the first place.  

The Brady father and son were beaming with pride. Austin Perry was nodding but he was trying his hardest not to laugh. It seemed the euphemism of the word FAP, which to some people can be a connotation of self pleasure had completely washed over the Bradys heads. It had been Chick’s last birthday. The zookeeper had had a few pints too many and when the Brady’s brought their ideas to him he had jumped right on board.  

“That’s a goodun, mate,” he told them. 

Being slightly lower on the Kappa So food chain, the encouragement of the elder was like finding gold dust. It was the highest praise. It was a real honour. When Austin realised they weren’t seeing the innuendos that flooded their advertising strategy that made it even better. He liked the Bradys. He was sure it would get everyone talking about them and that was the purpose of advertising.  

So it came to be that Ozzy allowed some Kappa So funding for the ad and he just couldn’t wait to see the look on Chick Owen’s face. It really was a picture.  

“Ain’t no FAP like a Brady FAP,” the father stated.  

Ozzy chuckled. Really? They didn’t hear that?  

“What do you think Captain?” Carson Brady asked.  

“I think it is most definitely a commercial to be remembered,” he told them.  

“Kinda makes you want to FAP one out right now,” said Brady the son.  

“It will create a huge amount of revenue,” Austin explained. There was method to his madness. “The whole city is going to be FAPPING to Brady.” He was also a frat boy at heart and a Perry which research has shown is one of the wildest kind.  

“So the ad gets your approval?” Asked the Brady father.  

“Bless your heart,” said The Cappy. “You will have your ad. Maybe if everybody is focused on Fitness and Perseverance the boys will stay out of trouble.”  

“FAPPING,” Austin put in.  

“Yes, thank you Oz.”  

“Got your back, brah.”  

“I wish you well,” The Cappy told the Bradys. “It sure is a commercial to remember.”  

Kappa elder, Marshall Cooper, had been surprisingly quiet throughout the whole exchange. Usually his brazen attitude was always to be heard, especially when in the presence of lower level bros. He was probably feeling a little sour because the Brady ads were overtaking his own ones for Copper garages. He was worried more people would want to FAP than ride his fancy cars.  

The Bradys skipped out quite thrilled with meeting, when I say skipped, I mean they showed their FAPPING skills right away.  

“Shiiiiiiit,” Marshall groaned. “That is fucking stupid.”  

Ozzy raised an eyebrow. He really was sour.  

“I liked it,” he said. “I found myself FAPPING in me briefs just this morning.”  

Marshall shook his head. “You are an asshole Oz. You really think it’s a good idea giving the Bradys a platform for anything?”  

“They’re good guys. They’re true bros and when they told me they wanted to get everyone FAPPING I thought, why not? Those advertising boards are about go nuts and there’s nothing the Office of Law Makers can do, the bastards.” 

“It’s fucking stupid,” Marshall continued to grumble.  

The two noticed that Chick seemed to be contemplating something. The last thing he needed was more trouble. He pushed the button for his secretary.  

“Send the Bradys back in for a moment would you?”  

“Yes, Captain.” 

The Bradys returned with expecting expressions.  

“I am pleased to inform you that Marshall here has been so impressed with your advertising prowess he wants to have your Fitness and Perseverance on one of his cars of the next Coldford Circuit races.”  

The Bradys were thrilled to hear that. A Mad Dog racer with some Brady burn it had the makings of a monster movie. Or a disaster one …  

Marshall glowered at Chick but he said nothing.  

“That’s brill Marsh. You won’t be disappointed. I always thought Sunny looked like she FAPPED good.”  

“I heard Marsh gets her started on the routine but she always has to end up finishing with a solo FAP,” said Ozzy.  

“Woah! Brady burn is here to stay!” The father and son were really excited about the elder approval and Chick drew a smile as he watched them exit his office.  

Marshall punched Ozzy’s shoulder.  

“Crikey,” Oz cried with a chuckle. “You got no sense of humour!”  

“Fuck you Oz and fuck you Chick!” Marshall put to them but he was starting to loosen up at the idea.  

“They’re good people the Bradys. Their cornbread ain’t done in the middle but I like their intentions and I like their enthusiasm,” Chick decided.  

“You’re not the one that has to tell Miko she’s going to have FAP on the side of her car.”  

Miko was the driver of the yellow Mad Dog, Sunny. She was a temperamental sort. Maybe she just needed to have a FAP session, courtesy of Brady.  

***  

It was all fun and games and Brady was a frat boy so he was familiar with the fun. He was well acquainted with the games. He was a seasoned professional at it.  

He had made his real mark on a day at the Kingsgate campus where their rivals Sigma So resided. It had been early days and Brady had only just completed his hazing. He was a bonafide bro now so he was called upon by Buddy Owen, their Chapter leader, to show Sigma just what the Kappa bros were made of.  

I’m sure that when Seth Bergman first started to pull the event together for his Alma mater he didn’t realise the mess that would be left to clean up. He was a smart man so you would think that would be exactly what he expected. He had had his experiences with the frat antics. His sister, Elsa, had really done all of the heavy lifting for the event. He was so proud of her achievement as he observed the many expecting faces, the happy families, the excited children running around. The poor unfortunate souls had no idea what was about to befall.  

It was a warm, spring day full of promise on the Kingsgate lawns. The palace of the Chamberlains looked over them with Majesty. The Bergman sponsored afternoon was drawing a crowd and the funds raised for the Verga Bergman foundation was sure to make a difference. What was also sure to make a difference was the bus that had arrived in from Filton.  

“Kappa So!” They could be heard chanting from the open windows.  

Joshua, Anthony and Michael of the Sigma rivals had waited in their own transport. They had arrived early from Cardyne but they insisted on making some kind of entrance too.  

“Can’t let Kappa think they’re going upstage us, playa,” Anthony had told Seth.  

“Just try to keep it friendly,” Seth urged.  

“Oh, I’ll keep it friendly,” Anthony assured. “I’ll keep it real friendly. When me and my boys see those Kappa colours it gets a mother fucker really riled up.”  

Brady was experiencing this too in the bus as Buddy was offering the rousing speech to his troops.  

“Those assholes think they’re better than us because they’re all smart and shit,” he said.  

“Yeah!” The bros replied with passion.  

“They think we’re dumbasses but we’re Kappa So and ain’t nobody gonna think they’re better than us!”  

Chad jumped in with an excitable addition.  

“We’re going to tickle their balls!” He cheered. “Then they’re gonna suck our balls!”  

Brady was so pumped. He was so steamed. He was so up for anything it didn’t really matter what Chad was suggesting.  

The bus shuddered as it hit the lawns. Buddy raised an eyebrow to Dale Cooper, son of Marshall and heir to the Cooper empire.  

“Coops?” He put to him. “Why the fuck are we on this piece of shit bus? We should have Cooper transport.”  

“We did,” Cooper sighed. “We did.”  

Buddy frowned.  

“I don’t remember that.”  

Cooper nodded. “I know. Sorry, Bud.” 

“Yeah, sorry Bud,” added Chad. 

“Sorry, Bud,” added Brady.  

“Sorry, Bud,” before long there was a chorus of repentance for the loss of the only Cooper bus ever made and for Buddy’s memories of the event that took her.  

It might have been a shoddy bus that they had been left with but Cooper managed to donut the big bitch right onto the Kingsgate lawns.  

“Kappa So!” They all cheered.  

Then every window of the bus cracked. Buddy looked among them.  

‘Wow,’ he thought to himself. ‘Sometimes I underestimate the Godballs. They just cracked the windows.’ 

“Oh, it is on!” Anthony cheered as he and the rest of Sigma praised their sonic boom simulator.  

Not to stoke any flames of these fraternity rivals but at least Sigma had aimed their device at their target. If it had been in the hands of Kappa then I suspect every window in Chamberlain Palace would have had to have been replaced.  

Brady and the Kappa So bros filed off what was left of the bus. They made a lot of noise, they called a lot of obscenities to Sigma that they probably shouldn’t have when families were present but the fact was, they had arrived and it was time for the games to begin.  

Most of the day had been a show of who was better and that’s what a great portion of Coldford had come along to see.  

“Are catapults really necessary?” Seth asked Anthony.  

“Damn right, playa,” was Anthony’s response.  

Anthony was the designated competitor for Sigma. Brady had stepped up for Kappa So.  

“You can toss me as far as you like, brah. The further you toss me the better,” he had said to Chad.  

Normally Chad would be the designated one from Kappa to be tossed but he felt it was time for Brady. He had learned so much. He was ready. He was something of a protégé for him they way Cam Brady was for his dad Austin. Chad was so proud as Brady climbed into the catapult ball.  

Sigma fired and Anthony reached tremendous heights. The Bergman siblings showed their admiration. The gathered crowd applauded.  

It was time for Brady and the Kappa bros to show what they were really made of. They might have had their technology, their smarts, their looks, their money, their fancy window cracking guns – I had to stop Brady at this point as he was starting to lose track again. The point was Sigma might have looked impressive firing their catapult but they were up against the skills of a Cooper, the brazen ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to make a point’ of an Owen, the out of the box thinking of a Perry and a seasoned FAPPER ready to prove his worth.  

“You ready, Brady?” Asked Buddy.  

“Fire me up,” Brady urged.  

SNAP!  

The catapult fired. At first the crowd were equally as impressed as they had been with Sigma. Then their eyes started to widen in wonder as Brady was catapulted much higher than Anthony had been. Then shock began to wash over them as he cleared the Kingsgate Lawns. There was no pullback.  

“Only pussies use pull back,” said Buddy.  

Medical staff eventually found Brady on the Chamberlain family’s croquet lawns. Lord John Chamberlain had been trying to practice when the Brady ball landed and tore up the grass.  

“I’m good,” he said with a thumbs up, real credit to Cooper engineering and attention to safety features.  

“Don’t fuck with our shitty bus, beeeatch,” Buddy teased.  

The two frats raced, they fought (with swords from the museum, medieval style), Sigma had Kappa believe they had fallen into an alternative reality, locking them in a simulator. Cooper had to take some time to be brought round. The idea of being trapped in a computer had really freaked him out. When the day came to an end Brady had been appointed the honour of thanking their host.  

Seth was busy assessing the damage that had been done and the cost of the clean up.  

“This is for the repairs,” Brady told him pulling an Owen Inc cheque from the bag he carried. It was a large bag. Seth couldn’t remember him arriving with it.  

Seth accepted the cheque graciously. 

“Thank you.”  

“This is for the dead chick,” Brady said giving him another cheque.  

“You mean my mum?” Seth put to him.  

“That’s the one, brah,” said Brady.  

Seth passed the cheques to Elsa which was just as well because from the bag next Brady removed a gun. Before Seth could react appropriately Brady fired the super soaker, leaving Seth completely sodden. Elsa stood beside her brother gob smacked.  

“That’s from Buddy Owen. He says you’re a wet pussy.”  

He reached into the bag again and when he drew his hand back out he had raised his middle finger.  

“That’s from Coops. He says, ‘sorry bro’”  

Seth was frowning now as one would expect with this charade. Brady dropped the bag on the ground. Whatever he was pulling out for Chad was really heavy and required both hands. Before whatever carnage Chad had cooked up could ensue Brady had caught sight of Anthony charging at him. He took to his heels, leaving the bag of tricks behind.  

“Don’t worry, playa,” said Anthony. “I’m just going to knock a mother fucker down.”  

They could hear Brady cry back over his shoulder.  

“That’s great form, brah. You’re really working it! Do you FAP?” 

“Will I get you a towel?” Elsa asked.  

“Please do,” Seth replied.   

*** 

“With some fitness and a little bit of Perserverance you can overcome anything brah.” 

“Excuse me, Brady,” I had to warn him. “Do you mind if I write my own sum up?” 

“Sure. You’re the reporter dude. You go ahead.”  

I sighed then. It was really quite an interview.  

So, with some fitness and a little bit of perseverance you can overcome anything. Held behind the bars of Coldford Correctional Brady learned that life still goes on. He had the opportunity to make decisions for the future. It was a luxury we shouldn’t take for granted inside The Boss.


Brady has a unique spirit that even The Boss has diffiuclty in breaking. How would you cope? Parts 1 and 2 of The Boss trilogy are available now.

Caution: Contains scenes and themes some may find distressing.

Prayer Time In Solitary (an extract from The Boss Part 2 – Servitude)

The Prayer Room is located in the Herod Halls of the castle, just off the overpass. It’s an original part of the building where St Wigan, when he was in residence, would lock himself away seemingly with no food or water for days. He emerged when God had delivered his message. Normally this meant someone was burned, hanged, or buried alive in Gregor Court. God could be a nasty bastard if Noah Wigan was to be believed, and Francesca Chamberlain made the perfect nasty vessel to operate through. However, that’s another grisly tale for another grisly day. For now, our story focuses on the Prayer Room in more recent times. The room has no plumbing. It doesn’t have a bowl or sink on offer. You eat and drink very little whilst you’re in there so you find yourself with little to excrete anyway.  

As the famed monk said, “God provides the nourishment.”  

He may have been able to get a fat soul with conversations with a figment in sky, but for our inmates it drained what little will they had left. There are no windows. You are completely engulfed in darkness. You are left alone with only time to think and to say your prayers.  

Jake tried to keep himself awake for as long as possible. He didn’t know how long he would be left to rot. He had no means of counting the hours. He could only try and keep himself awake for as long as possible – not that he would find much of a cosy bed. It was a moss covered, granite floor. In fact, the dampness within the Prayer Room really attacked the lungs. It was common in the prison to hear the cough of an inmate that had spent some time in solitary.  

Jake had to keep himself awake. He wanted to stay alert should some of the ghoul guards come for him. That was what the inmates were calling the guards who lost their minds. Jake didn’t pray. He never was the praying sort but the voice inside his head was ringing loud. He tried to keep it ringing as his eyes started to feel heavy. He was slumped on the floor. His issue trousers were damp from the moss. He was in the most discomfort he had ever felt but he couldn’t resist sleep. Those beta brain waves were crying out to him.  

“Come on, Jakey. Just close your eyes. Sleep it away. Sleep. Sleep…”  

He was jerked awake by a sharp pain. Something had bitten him. He could hear a squeak and felt a draw of a long, worm-like tail across his hand. He pulled it away and as he did so he caught the feel of matted fur.  

“Fucking rat,” he grumbled to himself.  

There was another sharp bite on his lower leg where the trousers of his kit had slipped up. There was another one there. He could hear the hungry rodents squeak at each other. Then there was another bite at his hand. This one was harder than the others. The broken rat teeth must have pierced skin.  

Jake tried to kick his leg out to make them scurry away but they were brave and they were hungry so they took another bite. One ran across his chest, the worm tail drawing underneath his chin. Jake was on his feet by then, trying to shake them off. They finally did scurry away when the doorway was opened.  


Parts 1 and 2 of The Boss trilogy is available now.

Contains scenes and themes some may find distressing.

Character Profile: Queen Francesca Chamberlain

“Bring me this one, and that one. I want their heads for a stew.

That fat one cowering in the corner? I suppose he’ll have to do.”

Name: Francesca Chamberlain The First

Features in: PURPLE RIBBON ; KNOCK KNOCK ; THE BOSS

Occupation: crowned queen five centuries prior to current events.

Painting of Francesca Chamberlain the first.

Despite her not living in current times the presence of Francesca Chamberlain is still felt, most notably in her castle in the northern city of Bournton. The call the castle The Boss because of the way it looms over the town below. It is currently a high security prison for the worst of the worst in the Shady City. It hasn’t changed much in the times since Francesca’s reign in that even then it was a dungeon that many feared to be held behind. Francesca was a bloody and merciless ruler taking great pride in the torture of her prisoners. They called her a witch because of the young maidens she drove to madness.

Francesca’s statue within The Boss

She may have been ruthless but most rulers in those days were. What she did hold dear though were her nephews, princes James and Edward. As sons of Francesca’s brother Henry, James was the rightful heir to Chamberlain dynasty. Having died in battle Francesca brought the princes to the castle for safe keeping. The intention was to rule in James’ stead until he came of age.

Whilst staying in the castle the younger prince, Edward, fell ill. Francesca believed a witch among them had cursed the little boy but luckily the arrival of a Holy man named Noah Wigan brought the boy back to health. From that moment Francesca was dedicated to the church Wigan was building. She heeded his advice above all and she became quite mad with her devotion.

Times have moved along since those days history books refer to as the Ballad of Blood. The modern Chamberlain family have left swords behind but bloodshed remains stained on the golden crown.


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Now In Servitude: The Boss

Location: Bournton

Features in: KNOCK KNOCK ; HARBOUR HOUSE

Coldford Correctional stands high on the hills of Bournton. It was given the nickname because of the way it looms over the town. It was a Chamberlain castle at one point in history. The Chamberlain family are what put the King in KINGSGATE. The castle in Bourton was a stronghold of Francesca Chamberlain who had a reputation for torture, greed and bouts of madness. These terrible deeds are said to have become ingrained in the very walls of the prison.

There are many creatures skulking around this prison castle

The Boss has played home to some of Coldford City’s most dangerous criminals. Most notably, two of the Penn triplets of the PENN AUCTION HOUSE have found home there. In order to keep such depraved individuals the guards of the boss have a no nonsense policy. If you act up within those walls you will be taken out. It doesn’t matter who you were on the outside. The Boss doesn’t care when you are Her slave.

It’s not uncommon for those who enter those iron clutches to be kept there for the rest of their lives. A years sentence for assault can suddenly become a life forfeit. Such is the way of Coldford’s correctional system.

Life inside is not easy. It’s not meant to be. It is a prison after all. When you are given that custodial sentence you give up your humanity, your past and your dignity. You are now in servitude to The Boss.

We haven’t seen the last of those who will pass through those gates so if you are bold enough to head so far north you will see the latest slaves being brought forth to be chewed up.

Hotly contested, the death penalty is alive in well in Coldford at this time of writing. As such The Boss plays home to the electric chair known as Buzzkill. When you are dealing with such a hotbed of crime as is present in the Shady City those switches need to be flipped, often.

The cold corridors of The Boss hold constant reminders.

COMING SPRING 2022

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