Chris did as he was told and he felt the cuffs snap round his wrists as he had so often before. But this time it was different. This time it was real. This time there was no safe word that would grant him instant release. He was now a prisoner, there was no escape. He wasn’t a gentleman who was paying for his pleasures, among people he knew, people who were ready to play his game. He was a convict, and nothing but a convict. The young officer’s eyes were brown, with curious little gold flecks, and the look in his eyes said ‘There’s nothing special about you, boy.’
The officer led Chris through the door and into a waiting room, though this was no airport departure lounge or even a hospital waiting room. The benches were steel and they were bolted to the floor. The officer patted Chris down, checking his pockets, but there was only his wallet and phone, which the officer left.
‘Sit’ the officer said, pointing to a bench and producing a pair of legcuffs. He secured one round Chris’s leg and another to the steel bench. He left without another word and Chris sat in the room alone.
About ten minutes later the officer returned and went out through the door leading to the outside world. He came back with a guy in his mid thirties, about 5’8″. He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie with boat shoes on his feet, no socks, and he was cuffed behind his back. He looked shocked as the officer walked him through and patted him down. He was ordered to sit a few feet from Chris, his leg also cuffed to the steel bench. As this was going on another officer walked past and headed outside and the hot officer that had shackled Chris and the other prisoner got up and followed him out. Chris turned to the other convict and nodded in his direction, but his mind seemed elsewhere.
The officers returned a couple of minutes later, with two more guys. One over six foot and the other much shorter, about 5’6″. Like Chris, both had been cuffed behind and were now being patted down. The two officers cuffed their ankles to the steel bench opposite Chris. As soon as the guards left the room the taller one started to talk to the other one.
‘You think they’ll put us in the same cell?’
‘How do I know?’
‘You guys know each other?’ Chris asked.
‘Yeah’ replied the taller one. ‘Got jailed together.’
Chris was about to ask them what for, when the hot officer from the diner walked back into the room along with his not so hot colleague, who glared at Chris as he walked past. Chris looked up at the clock on the wall where it was now 11.55. The two officers went outside again and after a couple of minutes returned with a man in his early sixties. Again, he was patted down and shackled to the bench. Then as the clock ticked on to noon another prisoner came in. This time younger, Chris thought probably late twenties, maybe early thirties. His hair was just a bit long, but it suited him. As with all the others he was patted down and shackled to the steel bench.
The two officers were then joined by a third who had a clip board.
‘Is that all of them?’
‘Yeah Sarge. Six. We’re expecting more at 2pm.’
The Sergeant turned to the convicts.
‘Listen up, gentlemen. My name is Sergeant Cole and this is Officer Brooks and Officer Spicer. You are now inmates in custody of the Federal Bureau of Prisons. You will obey all the rules of this prison for the duration of the time you have been sentenced to serve. You will speak only when spoken to and you will always, without fail, address any officer as Sir. Is that clear?’
‘Yes Sir’ all six said in unison.
‘I’m going to do a roll call and you will say Yes Sir when I call your name. MacKenzie.’
‘Yes Sir’ said the shorter of the two guys who came in together.
‘Yes Sir’ came the response from the guy who came in after Chris.
‘Yes Sir’ said the young guy who had come in last. Despite being the youngest of them all Chris thought that this guy was probably most familiar with being in prison. He seemed to have a swagger that the rest of them lacked.
‘Yes Sir’ replied Chris.
‘Yes Sir, responded the taller of the two guys who came in together.
‘Yes Sir,’ the older guy said in a strong confident voice.
One by one each of the six guys were unshackled from their bench and made to line up, hands still cuffed. They were marched through another door bearing a sign with the words ‘INTAKE AREA.’ The six of them followed Brooks, the officer that Chris had seen in the diner, into Intake, where he made them line up on a yellow line. Spicer and Cole followed behind. Once they were lined up Brooks and Spicer moved behind the prisoners uncuffing them one at a time. Cole ordered them to put their hands on their heads once the cuffs came off. Brooks and Spicer placed a box in front of each of the men and Cole ordered them to strip and put all their clothes in the box.
Chris started to undress straight away, he had some idea of what was coming having taken part in the jail role play not so long ago. Nelson had also managed to get down to his boxers before the other guys had even got their shoes off, Chris thought he was right that this wasn’t his first time behind bars. Cole shouted at the others to get a move on and it was a matter of only a couple of minutes before they were all standing naked with their hands on their heads.
Chris’s dick was now getting aroused and as he glanced along the line he noticed that Pennock and MacKenzie were also in a state of semi erection. Brooks and Spicer worked their way along the row from each end giving a full inspection. Arms out to the side, run hands through the hair, show ears, soles of feet, then squat and cough, bend and spread, pulling their cheeks apart for the cavity search. Chris noticed that all the guys had a boner after the cavity search. He was the last to get his and he was pleased it was Brooks who carried it out. Quite roughly, Chris thought, but he wasn’t complaining. He was living out his fantasy and he knew he had to enjoy every bit of it.
The six of them were ordered to follow Brooks in single file into the next room. This contained nothing more than a chair in the middle of the room and a bench on which a prisoner was preparing his equipment. Brooks ordered Nelson into the Chair first. He had thick dark hair but the shaver soon made easy work of that. His hair fell heavily down to the floor, leaving him with a bald dome on top. It took just over a minute before he was ordered out and Ryan replaced him on the chair. One by one they took their turn in the chair until all had been shaved. Chris, who was used to paying his stylist a hundred dollars plus tip, was now bald. As before they lined up and were led to the shower area.
There were half a dozen or so shower heads hanging from the ceiling. But the six of them were ordered to get into two groups of threes and stand under just two showers. Each group was given a small bar of soap and told to share between them. The showers were turned on and the barely warm water did not make it easy to soap up. After two minutes and with some of the prisoners sporting only a few streaks of soap suds, the showers were turned off. Each group was given a small hand towel to use between them. Nelson made sure he grabbed it first, clearly knowing what would happen. Chris managed to get most of the soap off him before passing the rag on to the unlucky MacKenzie, who had to dry himself the best he could with a smacking wet towel.
As they got out of the shower, they were each presented with an orange jumpsuit and slides. Nothing else. They were ordered to get dressed before being taken to get their mugshots, front, back, and sides. At the same time they were issued with a wrist band, with their name and prison number clearly visible – sort of like what you get in the hospital, only you can’t take it off. Once the photographs had been taken and wrist bands applied they found themselves being handcuffed once again. They were lined up and marched off behind Brooks to another area – the Intake cells. One by one they were locked in. Chris was the last to enter his cell. It was bare, except for a bed with a mattress and a sink and toilet combo. The door slammed behind him as he went in. It was solid steel. There was no way to see out and no natural light. The only light came from a dim light bulb high up and protected by steel mesh. He was alone, he could hear nothing. Having done his research he knew this was only temporary, before the prisoners were put into the main part of the prison – Genpop. But this isolation was new to him. Even in the jail roleplay he had Tom to talk to in the adjoining cell. But here he sat on his bed for hours with nothing but his own thoughts. It was only natural that he wondered whether he had made a horrible mistake.
While Chris was sitting in his bare cell, Mitch was receiving unexpected news. His release hearing had been brought forward. It wasn’t due for at least another year but he had just been informed by one of the corrections officers that it had been scheduled for the following day. ‘You must have friends in high places’ the officer had told him as he delivered the news. Mitch was stunned and had no idea what could have caused this turn of events. Tom had a pretty good idea though and sat back on his bunk thinking about what Chris was going through. He had received a letter from Chris’s special friend telling him exactly what day Chris would be entering prison and that within a few days afterwards Chris would be joining Tom in his cell. Tom had been aghast when Mitch had snatched the form from him all those months before, but now he was glad Mitch’s son was called Callum and not Andrew. Mitch had been right that there were no decisions to be made in prison, except when to have a wank. Now he would get to have sex with Chris on a regular basis. What more could he want? But first there was one last thing he had to go through.
Chris spent the next five days in his solitary cell. The only contact he had with the outside world during that period was with the medical and psychological assessments and with his meal tray when it was slid through the slot at the bottom of the door and collected again. Occasionally he could hear foot steps stop outside his door and then he would imagine one of the officers would be looking at him through the spy hole that was built into the door. Chris lost all sense of time. He could only orientate himself by the mealtimes, but there was no day or night, no light or dark; the bulb above remained on all the time.
But now, on the morning of the sixth day, the door was opening and Brooks was standing there ordering him out to join the other inmates. Four of them were already lined up and one more was being released from his cell by Spicer. All of them looked pretty broken. Brooks and Spicer escorted them back to the shower area where they were allowed to wash and also to shave the five days’ worth of growth on their faces. The electric razors were blunt and tore at the skin, but Chris had never been one for facial hair and was glad it was now gone. Like the hair on his dome.
After the showers they were escorted naked to another room which had a counter along one side and what appeared to be a storeroom behind. Two prisoners stood behind the counter and each of the newbies was called up in turn to collect his new clothes, which consisted of khaki scrubs, white t-shirt, white boxer shorts, white socks and tall, hard leather work boots. Each inmate was given three sets of scrubs and three sets of underclothes, plus a heavy brown coat and a little brown hat – each item stamped with his prison number. Chris started to get dressed, pulling on the white boxers. He had always preferred briefs, and other than the period in the role play jail had not worn boxer shorts since he was a teenager. Something else he would need to get used to from now on.
Once they were all dressed, all looking the same with their bald heads and their mud-colored clothes, they were again lined up. Each of them held in front of him his pile of spare clothes together with his plastic mattress, folded and strapped, and his little plastic baggie full of toiletries, which had also been issued. Brooks led them through the door at the end of the room which led directly outside. As they walked out of the building they felt a cold blast of air. Although it was spring, the weather had taken a turn for the worse since Chris had travelled the previous week. Brooks led them to an enormous block of concrete with a large B painted on the side. As they approached, another officer came out of the door at the bottom of the building. He talked to Brooks while Spicer remained at the rear of the line.
‘Okay, we have two in this block and the other four are going to C’ Brooks shouted down at Spicer. ‘Right, I want Nash and Ryan. Step forward.’
Chris stepped out of the line along with Ryan. They were told to follow the officer who had just come out of the door while the rest of the line moved on to Block C. Once inside B Block, Chris and Ryan were told to wait on the yellow line that was painted on the floor. This was their chance to stare upward at the lines of cages rising tier after tier and disappearing into the distance – the zoo in which animals like them had to live. Chris glanced at Ryan. Ryan had seemed outwardly confident all the way through the intake process, but the look behind the eyes showed that there was real fear. The new officer checked his clipboard and ordered them both to move forward. The officer walked behind the two of them instructing them where to go. They climbed the narrow steel stairs to the second tier and walked past a seemingly endless row of cells. Inmates looked out , seeing what new meat was walking past. Eventually the officer ordered them to stop and he opened a cell door. For the first time, Chris could see what his new home would look like. Small, cramped, just a set of bunks and a combination sink and toilet. In this cell Chris saw a young guy, probably mid-20s, with dark hair, brown eyes and bulging muscles under his scrubs. But it wasn’t him who entered this cell, it was Ryan. Chris watched as he went in and the door slammed shut behind him. He could see Ryan jump. He knew the feeling, he knew he would do the same in a few minutes’ time.
Chris was ordered on and then up. Up to the third tier, where again he passed cell after cell and wondered what it would be like to look out through the bars. Eventually he came to his new home. The officer opened the door and ordered him in, but there was no cellmate. He was here on his own. Had Tom chosen to be released and to let him go to jail for 25 years? It had always been a possibility. He had given Tom the choice, it was his decision how the game would turn out. He noticed that the cell had another inmate’s mattress on the bottom bunk, and another inmate’s gear stowed under the bunk. Was it Tom’s? he asked himself. He threw his mattress onto the top bunk and sat down and began to wonder. He had been thinking of Tom all the way through those five days in the cell. What if he was not here? Would it have all been worth it?
Early that morning Tom had been cuffed and shackled. A belly chain with a black box kept the cuffs rigid and in place. He was loaded into the back of a van and transported on a journey of two hours to a federal courthouse. Here he stood before the judge and pleaded guilty to failing to report to prison, being a fugitive from justice and traveling on a false passport. He was sentenced to five years to be served consecutively to his current sentence. Tom could see what was happening. Chris’s special friend had clearly pulled some stings. Tom would now serve the same sentence as Chris.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that Tom arrived back at the Federal Penitentiary. It took another hour to get him out of his chains and fully strip search him before he was marched back to his cell. By this time Chris’s mind was in overdrive. Why was there no cell mate, whether it was Tom or someone else? All the other cells had two men in them and there was clearly another inmate’s pile of gear under the bed. So preoccupied by his own thoughts was Chris that he didn’t register the officer and Tom appearing at the bars of the cell. But then he heard the key in the door and the clanging of the bars as they were pushed to one side.
Tom walked in and the door slammed shut behind him. Chris jumped again as he heard the noise and saw that Tom did the same.
‘You’re on my bunk’ Tom said.
‘Oh, err’ Chris replied as he made to move.
‘Just stay right there, I’m gonna pound your arse.’
Metal would like to thank Robmacz for this story!