Juvie CH 7
Juvie CH 7
BANG !
BANG BANG BANG !
What the fuck ?
“UP UP UP” ! Shouted an unfamiliar voice.
“Everybody up. Get dressed---report to the mess hall---15 minutes”. With one more bang on the door.
We all slowly got up. Somebody mumbled, “Did he say get dressed ? You mean, uniforms”?
I responded, “Ya, I think that's what 'dressed' means. Must be something official. Fuck, I don't even know if I got a clean shirt”.
We slowly line out into the hallway, heading for the mess hall. We 'merge' in with the boy's from pod A, and all enter. I was immediately shocked at what I saw. There were a few tables lined up in the middle of the room, stocked with just coffee, and donuts. Jeez—what a breakfast. They were 'attended' by two lunch room looking ladies, which was odd. But what really got my attention was when I turned around, facing the front wall. More guards than I had ever seen ! I mumbled 'what the fuck' to the guy next to me as we took a seat. There were 15 of them !
“Yo Dillon”, someone whispered in my ear. “It's worse than you think dawg”.
“Whatta ya mean” ? I mumble, as I take a sip of my coffee.
“Look close dude---those aren't jail uniforms, that's the fucking national guard” !
“Oh fuck me ! Oh fuck dawg—this is gonna be bad” !
“Ya—and look at their right hips yo---those are fucking tasers” !
“What the fuck”? It seemed to be the only thing I could say.
“Ya—they can't shoot us, cause we're juvies, but they can zap the fuck outta us”.
About that time, Cpt Braxton raps on the podium he is now standing behind.
“Aight—listen up. I want all eyes on me. ON ME—not Dillon” ! He shouts, a bit louder than needed I thought.
“This assembly is to officially inform you of the findings of the investigation, and the resulting disciplinary action that will be taken as a result, of the incident involving inmate Billy Turner, on July 20. Over the last three days, you all have been interviewed, and admitted to your participation in this event.
Moving forward—Dustin Dillon---stand up”.
Oh fuck, was all I could think as I stood, face turning red. This was definitely going to be bad.
“The following charges are hereby brought to you: inciting a riot, assault on a fellow inmate, **** of a fellow inmate, instigating the gang **** of a fellow inmate, reckless abandonment of a known injured inmate, failure to report a know injury of a fellow inmate.
This is by far, the sickest, most most brutal incident I have witnessed in my 25 years. You boy's are ANIMALS !
With that being said, the following actions will transpire:
You are immediately stripped of your trustee status, and all privileges that go with it. You will be charged an additional 30 days to your sentence, beginning today. The next 30 days you will spend in solitary confinement. Your meals will be brought to you. You will have no contact with other inmates. In short, son, your 'rule' is over.
As for the rest of you: The return of the basic dress code will now be strictly enforced. No parading around the halls in your boxers. After meals you are to return to your pods, and the doors will be locked. Yard, and media room is now off limits, until further notice. Visitations, and outgoing mail is hereby suspended. You do still have the right to visit with your attorney. Your contact person as you listed on your intake papers will be notified of these restrictions, and any tentative dates of restoring them. You have until midnight tonight to hand over any contraband to any guard without penalty. We're coming to toss foot lockers, so if you got anything you need to get rid of, you better do it quickly.
(The funny thing about that part was—about an hour after everyone returned to their cells, there was suddenly a strong aroma of dope filling the hallways. I guessed they all thought fuck it, we're smoking it, lol)
With Dillon headed to solitaire, that just leaves eight of you, and we have plenty of empty cells now. Therefore, you will be moved around, to just two per cell. Any acts of 'homo sex', well, you just better be quite about it, and under covers. It's against the rules boy's, and you know it.
The Holiday Inn is now closed ----welcome to jail. That is all.
Mr. Dillon, report to supply, and turn in your uniforms. I think they have something in orange for you. DISMISSED” !
And---that was it. Simple, short, and brutal. I was actually glad with the solitaire part. I couldn't see how possibly I could face anyone. The humiliation would be more than I could take. And back to the orange jumpsuit ? That was all about humiliation. I feared retaliation, but, I guess as long as I'm in here, closely guarded, I should be ok.
The upcoming days were now filled with, well---nothing. Eat, sleep, shit, and jack-off. It had actually been some time since I had to beat my own meat—always made someone do it for me. Now, all I could do is just lay there and fantasize. At least Cpt. Braxton let me keep my dumb bells. Classified as personal property, rather than contraband. After a couple of days I at least got back to somewhat of a work-out. Push-ups, crunches, arm curls. Last thing I wanted to loose was my definition—it was sharp—sharp as a fucking razor.
The guard told me I could have 30 minutes a day for personal hygiene. He would e***** me, by myself to the shower room. Brush ur teeth, take a shower, wash ur hair, etc. But fuck a shower. I wasn't doing any goddamm shower—I was going to stink up as bad as I could. Hell—I may not even wipe my ass ! Call me an animal ? I'll show you a fucking animal. Wasn't shaving either---even though I didn't have much to shave. May even drink my own piss. Hell, I might just piss all over myself every time, ---just to be an animal.
The funk built up quickly, with the heat still present because of the AC being out. I wasn't 'privie' to any info anymore—like when they would start installing the new unit. “Need to know basis” was all I was told—and being an inmate, didn't need to know. It was brutal.
I even started just leaving my jizz splattered over my torso when I jacked-off. With my own funk increasing on a daily basis, it was practically keeping my dick hard, making my loads bigger all the time. Just let it drip, and dry. I would do anything I could think of to make myself dirty, and stinkin. I'll show him a fucking animal.
I begin grunting like an animal anytime someone said something to me, or asked a question. I wouldn't answer—just grunt, like a gorilla. About the tenth day in the guard opens up the door, as usual, to e***** me to the showers. I stunk like a fucking pig, and my dick was rock fucking hard. I notice him catching a glimpse, but hey—it was an exceptional piece, lol.
I decided on some new tactics I thought up the night before. Dropping down to a squat, and putting my hands on the floor, I begin 'duck walking' down the hallway—sorta like a monkey. All the guard did was snicker, not giving in to my antics. I stopped, just at the entrance of the showers, and raised my left leg high in the air. And cut loose LMAO.
I pissed and pissed and pissed, all over the shiny tile floor. Still, no reaction from the guard. It was like I was a prisoner of war ! I go in and just jump around until the guard steps out. I shuck out of my orange jumpsuit, and proceed to brush my teeth. There were two things that I actually couldn't stand. A filthy mouth, and greasy hair. I stuck my head under the faucet of one of the sinks to give it a rinse out. Course, getting shaved at intake, it was still not much more than a grown out buzz cut.
The next day I upped my game even further. On the way to the showers, still in my 'monkey' stride, I stopped. Already in a squatting position, I couldn't help but giggle a bit under my breath. And, I did it.
Giving a hard push, I unload my guts, dropping a massive shit---right in the middle of the floor. The guard mumbles something in his radio, but I didn't really pay attention. I spin around, and start splashing my hands into my pile—splattering my shit all over the hallway, and screaming out like a pissed off monkey. I scooped up a handful of my shit, and begin spreading it across my face, and chest. Then grabbing my dick, begin jackin-off, like you would often see monkey's do in a zoo.
The guard mumbles into his radio again, but before the 'back-up' arrived, I manage to blow a load. It was massive too, having skipped the last two days. I blew shot after shot of my legendary solid ropes of jizz—sailing proudly across the hallway. The guard was stooped, as he witnesses my award winning orgasm.
I smiled from ear to ear, and looking the guard right into his eyes, 'slicked' off my dick of the remaining cum, and yes, a bit of my shit, and licked it clean.
“Ur a sick fuck, Dillon”, was all he said.
I started jumping up and down, again yelling like a monkey. This time, jumping in my pile of shit. Getting it worked up good in my feet, between my toes. At this point, the 'back-up' arrives. Two more guards, and—CPT Braxton ! And, they're carrying something. I paused for a moment, and narrowed my eyes. I recognized it almost at once—from movies, and TV shows. A straight-jacket. Oh hell no !
I quickly stood upright—probably for the first time in about three days now. I held my arm out, Like you would trying to stop someone from approaching you. “Oh hell no ! Ur not putting that on me”, shaking my head back and forth, but they continued walking towards me. I backed up, now cornered against the wall. It was the end of the hallway, so no where to run, except back into the shower room.
I bolt for the showers, and jump up on top of one of the benches, in a corner. I begin shouting as loudly as I could, hoping I guess someone else would here me, and come to my rescue.
“Oh fuck no ! You can't do that ! I'm a JUVINILE ! You can't put that on me” !
“Well, whaddaya know---it talks”.
“Of course I can talk muther-fucker. And you ain't putting that on me ! You can't do that” !
One of the guards draws his taser. Ok, now they have my attention.
“Oh, I assure you Dillon, we can”. With that the two guards drag me down from the bench, and down to the floor. Pulling my arms behind my back, I make a final appeal. “Aight ! Aight ! I give ! I surrender ! I'll be a good boy ! I swear I will” !
The two guards pause, as if awaiting final orders from Cpt Braxton. He walks over to me, standing right over me. “Get up” he says, sternly.
I stand, with a half-assed attention, and we meet eye to eye. “You like being here, Dillon ? Playing in your own filth ? Stinkin like a god-damm farm animal”?
“No sir, not really”. I reply humbly.
“Then get ur ass over to that wall, and under that water. HOT fucking water ! And you EMPTY that soap dispenser—on you—not the fucking floor ! You got me punk” ?
“YES SA” I shout back in my best jail voice.
“When I come back—you better be looking like a million bucks—and smelling like a bouquet of flowers”.
I did as told, and headed for the shower head. I must admit, it felt good. It had been three weeks. Braxton was right on. My stench was nuclear ! In spite of it all, I was bonin up. Looking back over my shoulder I see that the guard has stepped out, giving me privacy I guess. Facing the wall, I place my hand at the soap dispenser, and give it about five pumps. I grab my meat, and giving it a hard squeeze, proceed to yank it like a *********** just discovering jacking-off.
It took less than two minutes, lol. I blasted my juice all over the wall in quite an impressive display. I stood there and smiled, watching my ropes drip down the wall. I towel off, then reaching for the jumpsuit discover it was gone. How the fuck did he do that ? In it's place were the standard issues---dungarees, and tee shirts. And boxers---which I left behind, lol.
There had been one cadet to check out while I was in solitaire. I was placed in the cell with the remaining one. They still had us divided up with just two per cell, but had at least opened the doors again, so we could move about. I walk into the cell, just nodding at my new cellmate, not saying anything. I strip out of my tee, and boots and socks, and just pop the waistline button on my jeans. I just hit my bunk, face down.
I started ballin like a baby. They had broken me. I let the fuckers break me. And I was sure it was all a bluff. I was sure they couldn't put a juvenile in a straight-jacket. But, I decided to drop the matter. At least I was back into a regular cell. All I wanted now was to finish out my time--five weeks to go.
BANG !
BANG BANG BANG !
What the fuck ?
“UP UP UP” ! Shouted an unfamiliar voice.
“Everybody up. Get dressed---report to the mess hall---15 minutes”. With one more bang on the door.
We all slowly got up. Somebody mumbled, “Did he say get dressed ? You mean, uniforms”?
I responded, “Ya, I think that's what 'dressed' means. Must be something official. Fuck, I don't even know if I got a clean shirt”.
We slowly line out into the hallway, heading for the mess hall. We 'merge' in with the boy's from pod A, and all enter. I was immediately shocked at what I saw. There were a few tables lined up in the middle of the room, stocked with just coffee, and donuts. Jeez—what a breakfast. They were 'attended' by two lunch room looking ladies, which was odd. But what really got my attention was when I turned around, facing the front wall. More guards than I had ever seen ! I mumbled 'what the fuck' to the guy next to me as we took a seat. There were 15 of them !
“Yo Dillon”, someone whispered in my ear. “It's worse than you think dawg”.
“Whatta ya mean” ? I mumble, as I take a sip of my coffee.
“Look close dude---those aren't jail uniforms, that's the fucking national guard” !
“Oh fuck me ! Oh fuck dawg—this is gonna be bad” !
“Ya—and look at their right hips yo---those are fucking tasers” !
“What the fuck”? It seemed to be the only thing I could say.
“Ya—they can't shoot us, cause we're juvies, but they can zap the fuck outta us”.
About that time, Cpt Braxton raps on the podium he is now standing behind.
“Aight—listen up. I want all eyes on me. ON ME—not Dillon” ! He shouts, a bit louder than needed I thought.
“This assembly is to officially inform you of the findings of the investigation, and the resulting disciplinary action that will be taken as a result, of the incident involving inmate Billy Turner, on July 20. Over the last three days, you all have been interviewed, and admitted to your participation in this event.
Moving forward—Dustin Dillon---stand up”.
Oh fuck, was all I could think as I stood, face turning red. This was definitely going to be bad.
“The following charges are hereby brought to you: inciting a riot, assault on a fellow inmate, **** of a fellow inmate, instigating the gang **** of a fellow inmate, reckless abandonment of a known injured inmate, failure to report a know injury of a fellow inmate.
This is by far, the sickest, most most brutal incident I have witnessed in my 25 years. You boy's are ANIMALS !
With that being said, the following actions will transpire:
You are immediately stripped of your trustee status, and all privileges that go with it. You will be charged an additional 30 days to your sentence, beginning today. The next 30 days you will spend in solitary confinement. Your meals will be brought to you. You will have no contact with other inmates. In short, son, your 'rule' is over.
As for the rest of you: The return of the basic dress code will now be strictly enforced. No parading around the halls in your boxers. After meals you are to return to your pods, and the doors will be locked. Yard, and media room is now off limits, until further notice. Visitations, and outgoing mail is hereby suspended. You do still have the right to visit with your attorney. Your contact person as you listed on your intake papers will be notified of these restrictions, and any tentative dates of restoring them. You have until midnight tonight to hand over any contraband to any guard without penalty. We're coming to toss foot lockers, so if you got anything you need to get rid of, you better do it quickly.
(The funny thing about that part was—about an hour after everyone returned to their cells, there was suddenly a strong aroma of dope filling the hallways. I guessed they all thought fuck it, we're smoking it, lol)
With Dillon headed to solitaire, that just leaves eight of you, and we have plenty of empty cells now. Therefore, you will be moved around, to just two per cell. Any acts of 'homo sex', well, you just better be quite about it, and under covers. It's against the rules boy's, and you know it.
The Holiday Inn is now closed ----welcome to jail. That is all.
Mr. Dillon, report to supply, and turn in your uniforms. I think they have something in orange for you. DISMISSED” !
And---that was it. Simple, short, and brutal. I was actually glad with the solitaire part. I couldn't see how possibly I could face anyone. The humiliation would be more than I could take. And back to the orange jumpsuit ? That was all about humiliation. I feared retaliation, but, I guess as long as I'm in here, closely guarded, I should be ok.
The upcoming days were now filled with, well---nothing. Eat, sleep, shit, and jack-off. It had actually been some time since I had to beat my own meat—always made someone do it for me. Now, all I could do is just lay there and fantasize. At least Cpt. Braxton let me keep my dumb bells. Classified as personal property, rather than contraband. After a couple of days I at least got back to somewhat of a work-out. Push-ups, crunches, arm curls. Last thing I wanted to loose was my definition—it was sharp—sharp as a fucking razor.
The guard told me I could have 30 minutes a day for personal hygiene. He would e***** me, by myself to the shower room. Brush ur teeth, take a shower, wash ur hair, etc. But fuck a shower. I wasn't doing any goddamm shower—I was going to stink up as bad as I could. Hell—I may not even wipe my ass ! Call me an animal ? I'll show you a fucking animal. Wasn't shaving either---even though I didn't have much to shave. May even drink my own piss. Hell, I might just piss all over myself every time, ---just to be an animal.
The funk built up quickly, with the heat still present because of the AC being out. I wasn't 'privie' to any info anymore—like when they would start installing the new unit. “Need to know basis” was all I was told—and being an inmate, didn't need to know. It was brutal.
I even started just leaving my jizz splattered over my torso when I jacked-off. With my own funk increasing on a daily basis, it was practically keeping my dick hard, making my loads bigger all the time. Just let it drip, and dry. I would do anything I could think of to make myself dirty, and stinkin. I'll show him a fucking animal.
I begin grunting like an animal anytime someone said something to me, or asked a question. I wouldn't answer—just grunt, like a gorilla. About the tenth day in the guard opens up the door, as usual, to e***** me to the showers. I stunk like a fucking pig, and my dick was rock fucking hard. I notice him catching a glimpse, but hey—it was an exceptional piece, lol.
I decided on some new tactics I thought up the night before. Dropping down to a squat, and putting my hands on the floor, I begin 'duck walking' down the hallway—sorta like a monkey. All the guard did was snicker, not giving in to my antics. I stopped, just at the entrance of the showers, and raised my left leg high in the air. And cut loose LMAO.
I pissed and pissed and pissed, all over the shiny tile floor. Still, no reaction from the guard. It was like I was a prisoner of war ! I go in and just jump around until the guard steps out. I shuck out of my orange jumpsuit, and proceed to brush my teeth. There were two things that I actually couldn't stand. A filthy mouth, and greasy hair. I stuck my head under the faucet of one of the sinks to give it a rinse out. Course, getting shaved at intake, it was still not much more than a grown out buzz cut.
The next day I upped my game even further. On the way to the showers, still in my 'monkey' stride, I stopped. Already in a squatting position, I couldn't help but giggle a bit under my breath. And, I did it.
Giving a hard push, I unload my guts, dropping a massive shit---right in the middle of the floor. The guard mumbles something in his radio, but I didn't really pay attention. I spin around, and start splashing my hands into my pile—splattering my shit all over the hallway, and screaming out like a pissed off monkey. I scooped up a handful of my shit, and begin spreading it across my face, and chest. Then grabbing my dick, begin jackin-off, like you would often see monkey's do in a zoo.
The guard mumbles into his radio again, but before the 'back-up' arrived, I manage to blow a load. It was massive too, having skipped the last two days. I blew shot after shot of my legendary solid ropes of jizz—sailing proudly across the hallway. The guard was stooped, as he witnesses my award winning orgasm.
I smiled from ear to ear, and looking the guard right into his eyes, 'slicked' off my dick of the remaining cum, and yes, a bit of my shit, and licked it clean.
“Ur a sick fuck, Dillon”, was all he said.
I started jumping up and down, again yelling like a monkey. This time, jumping in my pile of shit. Getting it worked up good in my feet, between my toes. At this point, the 'back-up' arrives. Two more guards, and—CPT Braxton ! And, they're carrying something. I paused for a moment, and narrowed my eyes. I recognized it almost at once—from movies, and TV shows. A straight-jacket. Oh hell no !
I quickly stood upright—probably for the first time in about three days now. I held my arm out, Like you would trying to stop someone from approaching you. “Oh hell no ! Ur not putting that on me”, shaking my head back and forth, but they continued walking towards me. I backed up, now cornered against the wall. It was the end of the hallway, so no where to run, except back into the shower room.
I bolt for the showers, and jump up on top of one of the benches, in a corner. I begin shouting as loudly as I could, hoping I guess someone else would here me, and come to my rescue.
“Oh fuck no ! You can't do that ! I'm a JUVINILE ! You can't put that on me” !
“Well, whaddaya know---it talks”.
“Of course I can talk muther-fucker. And you ain't putting that on me ! You can't do that” !
One of the guards draws his taser. Ok, now they have my attention.
“Oh, I assure you Dillon, we can”. With that the two guards drag me down from the bench, and down to the floor. Pulling my arms behind my back, I make a final appeal. “Aight ! Aight ! I give ! I surrender ! I'll be a good boy ! I swear I will” !
The two guards pause, as if awaiting final orders from Cpt Braxton. He walks over to me, standing right over me. “Get up” he says, sternly.
I stand, with a half-assed attention, and we meet eye to eye. “You like being here, Dillon ? Playing in your own filth ? Stinkin like a god-damm farm animal”?
“No sir, not really”. I reply humbly.
“Then get ur ass over to that wall, and under that water. HOT fucking water ! And you EMPTY that soap dispenser—on you—not the fucking floor ! You got me punk” ?
“YES SA” I shout back in my best jail voice.
“When I come back—you better be looking like a million bucks—and smelling like a bouquet of flowers”.
I did as told, and headed for the shower head. I must admit, it felt good. It had been three weeks. Braxton was right on. My stench was nuclear ! In spite of it all, I was bonin up. Looking back over my shoulder I see that the guard has stepped out, giving me privacy I guess. Facing the wall, I place my hand at the soap dispenser, and give it about five pumps. I grab my meat, and giving it a hard squeeze, proceed to yank it like a *********** just discovering jacking-off.
It took less than two minutes, lol. I blasted my juice all over the wall in quite an impressive display. I stood there and smiled, watching my ropes drip down the wall. I towel off, then reaching for the jumpsuit discover it was gone. How the fuck did he do that ? In it's place were the standard issues---dungarees, and tee shirts. And boxers---which I left behind, lol.
There had been one cadet to check out while I was in solitaire. I was placed in the cell with the remaining one. They still had us divided up with just two per cell, but had at least opened the doors again, so we could move about. I walk into the cell, just nodding at my new cellmate, not saying anything. I strip out of my tee, and boots and socks, and just pop the waistline button on my jeans. I just hit my bunk, face down.
I started ballin like a baby. They had broken me. I let the fuckers break me. And I was sure it was all a bluff. I was sure they couldn't put a juvenile in a straight-jacket. But, I decided to drop the matter. At least I was back into a regular cell. All I wanted now was to finish out my time--five weeks to go.
vor 1 Jahr