My First Year in Prison - Chapter 05 (Patreon)

My First Year in Prison

Chapter 5: Dirty laundry

“Now, why don’t you open the door and let me lick the remaining hints of cum from your beautiful cock?”

I was like paralyzed in my toilet stall. I had just cummed and was no longer horny, the proposal of Glenn was not attractive to me, at all. I just wanted him gone.

It was only day 2 and my well-thought-out plan before getting locked up was already going south. I was supposed to be a straight male, to go through my 10 to 16 months in prison keeping a low profile and get out of there, no drama. And now, a creepy guy had just caught me masturbating in a toilet stall.

Wait… I was the creepy guy!

“Come on, new boy, I’m still hungry!” Glenn insisted on the other side of the door.

Maybe if I did not make any move, he would think this had all been just an hallucination, that I had never been there.

Remaining as quiet as possible, I put my dick back in my pants. I licked the remaining cum on my fingers (old habits, you know). I wondered if I should get out and confront Glenn. He was just sucking another guy after all; it was worse than what I did. No?

I heard the main door of the bathroom opening, I was relieved for a few seconds, thinking Glenn was gone. I was wrong.

“What are you doing, Ginger?” That was the voice of Ralph, my bodybuilder cellmate.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I just took a shit.”

From what I could tell, Ralph was now using the urinal.

“Take your fag eyes away from my cock, Ginger.”

“I’ve seen more interesting ones than your little willie. I’ve had a good look at a very nice model very recently.”

Little willie was definitely not the most accurate definition of Ralph’s cock, I thought, reminiscing the huge tool that I had witnessed during the previous night in our cell.

“Good for you, man, we’ll see what you’ll think about my cock when you’ll have it deep in your ass.”

“If you say so.”

Glenn left the bathroom while Ralph was mumbling “prick” over the sound of him pissing. Crisis averted? I was not too sure.

I could not tell why Glenn did not rat me out. My main guess was that he would have then been forced to admit having sucked another guy. Although it was not really a secret that Glenn was gay, or at least, that he could engage in gay sex, (two different things in prison), maybe the other inmate with the spider web tattoo on his ankle wanted to be more discreet about it.

The other possibility was that Glenn was not such an asshole after all and that he did not want to get me in trouble with my cellmate. This was less plausible but either way, I was glad.

Although sex was the main topic of conversation among inmates and there were constant references made to male-on-male action, most of them remain homophobic and I was not sure that Ralph would be too happy knowing that he was sharing his cell with a man actually engaged to another man.

I realized that in this place, getting blown by a guy or fucking him in the ass to get a “quick release” was tolerable, but being actually gay in real life, was not acceptable. Kind of ridiculous if you want my opinion.

You can have your dick deep into another man’s ass but if you shout “no homo” loud enough and call him a fag, that’s not gay. Toxic masculinity is thriving in prison. Who would have thought?

I waited a few more minutes after Ralph had left the toilets to finally get out of the bathroom.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, I got to have my first breakfast and lunch in prison (both tasted awful) and to enjoy (maybe enjoy is a strong word) a couple of hours outside.

Some of the guys were playing sports, mostly basketball or soccer. I sat alone on a bench and watched them play. At least, I was enjoying the view. I tried not to fixate on one player in particular and pretended that I was actually interested in the games, but as you can guess, I was mainly watching these guys’ butts and bulges enhanced in their tiny shorts.

Most of them were shirtless and already sweating a lot. Every time they would bump into each over, my dick would react a little in my pants. Friendly slaps on the ass or on the chest were common practices. Boys will be boys.

Xander was playing soccer and he was fairly good at it. He really made me think about those guys that I would admire so much when I was younger. You know the type. Athletic straight guys, curly hair, cute face, who could go through life carefree – at least, that’s what I thought -, always smiling, thinking only about sports and having fun with their mates.

Xander was 26 at the time I was incarcerated and had his whole life before him, I knew he missed his girlfriend dearly and from what I had seen, she looked like the sweet girl next door. She had been waiting for him for two years at this point.

I wondered how he ended up in prison. He did not look addicted to drugs or anything, he seemed educated. Sure, he was standing up for himself and was not one to be messed with but he was generally friendly with anyone and most of the inmates seemed to respect him, or even, enjoy him. I was too!

Kurtis Jensen was on the basketball field, or rather on what had been turned into a basketball field. Seeing him playing this sport was not a surprise given his size. He was playing against Pope and was dominating him. Both were shitless and they would often grab each other, going further than what a referee would have considered acceptable in a normal match. They were providing great entertainment.

I smiled watching the teddy bear on Kurtis’ neck being drowned in pearls of sweats.

“Having a nice time, inmate 328?”

I recognized his voice instantly. Guard Falcon. He had snuck up right behind me.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, Braxton.”

He moved slightly towards me until his crotch touched the back of my neck. I got chills.

I had almost forgotten about him.

“What do you want?” I asked, drily.

He went down a bit, so he could whisper in my ear.

“Just making sure our new inmate feels comfortable in his new home.”

I swallowed my saliva.

“I am fine. Thank you.”

“Such a polite boy.”

I felt his bulge rubbing against my neck. He was hard. I wanted to scream but he let go of me after patting my hair. He then walked towards the other side of the court yard.

I made a promise to myself. Right there, confronting this guard or lodging a complaint against him would surely only make my situation worse. He had all the power to make my life miserable and my words would not be taken seriously against his. But once I would get out of there, I would make sure to denounce his behaviour to the appropriate authorities.

Considering what would happen later on that year, I would actually never have to, but we will get there.

At dinner, another incident happened. Two guys started a fight, an actual fight this time. One guy punched another one in the nose, and the inmate defended himself by biting his opponent. It was really shocking, not only for me, but Ralph and Xander were very stressed out too.

A siren went off and we all were forced to go on the floor, lying down.

“If you don’t, they are legally allowed to shoot you.” Xander yelled while pulling me on the floor with him.

I did not even know that the guards were carrying guns until this point, but some of the most senior guards were allowed to. This did not reassure me. I looked at Guard Falcon, his bald face, his broad shoulders, thinking that he was carrying a gun, he was even more terrifying than before.

The two fighters were immediately sent into solitary confinement. Foster was quite impressive handling one of them, firmly.

I also met Ray Kennedy that evening, he was an older guy, around 45, who had been released from solitary that morning. He was really hot if you are into the Daddy type. At least, I found him hot, but I did tend to have a crush on every man I was meeting so I am not sure my opinion really matters in this department. I also had a feeling that I knew him for somewhere else but for the life of me, I could not put my finger on it.

Ray was married and he had an 18 years old son that he was talking about a lot, he was afraid that his boy would make the same mistakes that he did. He could not stop praising his wife, Sabrina, and he apprehended telling her that he would not be able to attend the parlour for the next few weeks because of his behaviour.

The reasons why Ray got sent into the solitary before my arrival in prison were not very clear but he seemed sufficiently traumatized by his 24 hours spent in there to convince me that I would do everything to avoid living the same experience.

I was even more worried about ever getting a note on my file, preventing me from obtaining my early release.

That second night, we played belote again with the guys, and before that, I was allowed to one phone call.

I called my “roommate” (according to the official papers that I had given to the prison), Griffin.

“Tyler, are you ok?”

He asked as soon as he picked up the phone. I could tell that he was nervous.

“Hi Griffin, I’m fine. It’s all very weird but I’m fine.”

“I’m so glad to hear your voice, I was worrying so much. I’m sorry, maybe it’s not what you want to hear. I’m just glad you seem ok.”

“I am. I mean, it’s tough. The lack of intimacy is kind of hard to get used to.”

“How are the other inmates?”

“They’re ok.”

He remained silent for a few seconds. He knew that I was not telling the whole truth but he also knew that there was no need to push me. He got me like that.

“Well, we are all thinking about you here.”

“Is everyone ok? Did you have my parents on the phone?”

“No, but Ryan called this morning. He’ll be the one coming to see you on Saturday, I’ll come the week after that.”

I almost broke down in tears thinking of seeing them again. I had not realized I missed them so much already. But I tried to keep up the appearances during the call, I did not want to worry Griffin any further.

“Ok, great. I… I really want to see you guys.” I managed to say.

“We really want to see you too. What do you do during the days?”

“Not much… Well, starting tomorrow, I’ll work. I’ll be doing the laundry for my district.”

He laughed.

“Damn! It will be the first time in your life you’re doing laundry, babe.”

My heart melted when he said babe, but instantly, I looked around to check if no one was listening.

“Don’t call me that.” I said, harshly. I regretted my tone instantly and I corrected myself: “I mean, even if I like it.”

“Sorry, Ty.”

There was an awkward silence again.

“And fuck off Griffin, I’ve been doing laundry way before I ever met you and at our place, I’m doing pretty much all of the chores except for this one!” I said in a lighter tone.

He laughed again. That felt good.

“By the way, your friend from College, Austin, called me.”

“Oh, really?” I was suddenly flustered.

“He said you called him yesterday.”

Shit. Would Griffin find that weird?

“Yeah, I tried to reach Ryan and to reach you, but for some reasons, it would not work.” I lied. I am not even sure why. “So, I called Austin. I did not want to waste my phone call and I had not gathered the courage to tell him I was locked up in here yet.”

“I can tell you the guy was surprised by the news! But he seemed nice. He was concerned about you, you know. He asked me if he could do anything to help you out. He said that he will come visit you whenever this is possible.”

This felt so nice to hear. So surreal also, to know that Griffin and Austin were talking about me, would see each other, and I was stuck there.

“Austin is a great guy. I’m sure you’ll get along. How is your mom?”

Giving Griffin the opportunity to talk about his mom ensures me long minutes of monologue where I could escape the prison’s drama and know all about the conflicts between Brianna and her neighbours.

After this phone call, I spent the evening with my cellmates, Pope and Ray Kennedy joined us and I went to bed on my very uncomfortable mattress.

Ralph did not masturbate that night but Fernando was still sleeping in the nude, on top of his covers. His dick was hard that night, I saw it twitching a couple of times while Fernando was snoring.

I did not cry myself to sleep, I guess this was a progress.

The next day, I still apprehended the communal showers. There was some tension in the air following the cafeteria fight and more guards were there to control the situation. I did not see Romano or Kim that day. To my disappointment, I did not run into Kurtis Jensen either.

There was still enough eye candy for me to be destabilized and once again, I had to fight not to get a hard on. Especially Xander and his cute bubble butt which was growing on me.

I considered that it would be smart for me to jerk off and cum during the nights to avoid any surprise erection in the morning. Others inmates did not seem to mind as much, that day, Pope’s huge piece of meat was fully hard in the shower and he was showing off proudly. My expert eyes would say at least 8 inches of black sausage.

I ran into Glenn a couple of times but he never made any comment or allusion to our meeting in the bathroom. I did not feel great about him having this information and potential leverage over me, but I had more pressing concerns to take care of.

First of which came when I found out who would be my “co-worker” at my new job.

I was happy that it was hunky Guard Foster who led me to the laundry room in the basement of the facility. He even made small talk with me. At first, the conversation went great. Foster seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being and we chatted a bit, he gave me some words of encouragement and advice. At one point, I asked him if he felt more at ease as a guard “now”, but he seemed suddenly upset that I would somewhat challenge his authority.

I should have known better. I was just trying to have a genuine exchange with him, I knew that he had been done with training and school only recently but Foster took it as if I was trying to below him. I was implying that he did not seem “at ease” before.

When he told me that “Antoine Dupont” would be taking care of the laundry chores with me, he was still annoyed. I had no idea who this Antoine was, but I should have figured it was a French name.

We entered a large space with eight big laundry machines against the wall and a large table on the centre with laundry baskets. Sitting on the table mindlessly looking at a machine turning, Frenchy was there.

He gave me an atrocious toothless smile when he saw me.

“Inmate Dupont, this is your new trainee, Tyler Braxton. I expect you to show him the ropes and to have him fully operational after today. You’ll be working together in the next few weeks, no funny business. If something were to go wrong, you would be both held responsible.” Foster explained.

I wanted to cry for help. Anyone but this meth head! He was scaring me since the incident in the communal showers.

“No problem, boss.” Said Frenchy who jumped from the table, still grinning. “I’ll make sure inmate Braxton does an impeccable job.”

I was still hoping that Foster would stay in the room with us to make sure everything would run smoothly when he said:

“Ok then, I leave you to it. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Guard Foster?” I asked. I thought that he could hear the panic in my voice.

“What is it Braxton?”

“I…”
What could I say? That I was afraid of Frenchy while he was right there, staring at me?

“Braxton?”

“Nothing…”

Foster nodded his head in a sigh and went the other way. I got a last look at his butt before turning to my new hell.

“Have you ever done laundry in your life?” Frenchy asked.

I thought about my conversation with Griffin earlier.

“Of course, I have.”

“Well, you have nothing to learn, then. Other guys bring us baskets of dirty laundry, towels, pants, shirts.” He took all of these things from a basket. “Socks.” He grabbed a visibly dirty pair of socks. “Underwear”. He held some dirty briefs in his hands. “You throw them in the laundry machine, you press “on”, and when it’s washed, you throw them in the drying machine, and when it’s done, you fold them on this table.”

“Ok, that’s clear.”

I thought that maybe this could be ok. Xander was right about this job, probably not the worst of them all.

“Although, there is one issue. It is often hard to tell if something is clean and ready to be folded or if it is dirty.” Frenchy explained.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this pair of socks.” They were so filthy that they were almost completely dark. “Pretty clear, it is dirty, you throw the pair in the machine. But what about this t-shirt?”

I looked at it, there were visible stains of sweat. What was his point?

“It’s also quite clear that’s dirty.” I spoke.

He smelled it.

“Yeah, you’re right, dirty as fuck.” He threw the t-shirt in one of the machines. “What about this underwear though?”

He came near me, holding a pair of white briefs.

“Clean or dirty?” He repeated.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You have to tell. This is part of your job.”

“Well, if we’re not sure, we can just throw it in the dirty pile.” I suggested. I still could not see his point.

Frenchy gasped, overly pretending to be shocked by what I had just said.

“You are saying that you just don’t mind using water and energy from the prison for… nothing?! You know that the prison system in the U.S. is already struggling with money, right? And have you thought about the environment?”

“Yeah… I… I don’t think that throwing an extra pair would make much difference.”

I don’t even know why I tried to engage with him at the time, it was clear that he was messing with me.

“You’re gonna have to change your attitude, boy, if you want this to work. You know I’m in charge of you here. I’m the senior.”

I did not say anything but I started emptying the dirty laundry basket to fill a machine. He grabbed my hand.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“I think that from now on, when we work, you should call me, Boss, is that clear?”

My heart was beating fast. I was really starting to get scared and this time, Kurtis was no longer here to defend me. The guy was thin, maybe I could have beaten him up but I had never fought anyone in my whole life. Fuck, I was such a pussy.

“I said, is that clear?”

“Let go of me, Frenchy.”

He sighed.

“You really don’t want us to be friends, do you?”

“Look Frenchy, I don’t want to get in any kind of trouble. I just want to do my work here, do my time and return to my life.”

He smiled again.

“So, we agree. There is no need for us to fight.”

“No, not at all.”

“Then, just call me “boss” and we’ll be fine. Just here, when we are in the basement. Just because, it’s a simple fact, I am your boss in here. Nothing weird about that. Just normal stuff.”

I hated myself from doing that, but except from punching the guy, I did not see any other way out.

“Ok.” I mumbled.

“Ok, who?”

“Ok, boss.”

He let go of my arm.

“Now that we have established the chain of commands, where were we?” He looked around as I remained silent, a dirty towel in my hands. “Oh, right! This underwear!”

He grabbed the pair of underwear from the table and almost throw it to my face.

“Dirty or clean?”

“I don’t know… Boss.”

I looked at my feet. He grabbed my chin so I was forced to look at him. He was so closed to me, I felt uncomfortable. No, it was not discomfort, it was just plain fear at this point. He brought the dirty briefs closer to my face, I could tell for sure they were filthy now, because of the smell.

“DIRTY OR CLEAN?”

“Dirty!” I finally said. “They are dirty!”

“How could you tell?”

“Because it smells like shit.”

Frenchy laughed.

“Oh well, quite literally.” He threw the underwear in the machine after taking a deep sniff himself. “But you’re a smart guy, shrink. I have to admit.”

I did not remember even telling him that I used to be a therapist in real life, I guessed that news travelled fast in prison.

“I think your system will work, boy.” He spoke.

“My system?”

“I always struggle differentiating the clean from the dirty, but first day at your new job and you already come up with a great system! You just have to smell them to tell if there are clean or dirty.”

I hated where this was going.

He came near me with a basket full of obviously dirty laundry.

“I think most of those are dirty but there are always some clean pairs of underwear thrown in by mistake. We’ll work as a team. I’ll take them one by one from the basket, you will smell them, take a good sniff, and if they are dirty, we throw them in the machine.”

“You’re kidding me?”

He slapped me on the back of my head. It was not too violent but it was enough to terrify me. What could he do next?

“This is not way to talk to your boss! Apologize!”

“I’m sorry, Frenchy. I’m sorry, boss… But this is… Look, I’ll leave you be, but please, don’t…”

He did not let me finish, he pushed three or four pairs of dirty underwear against my face, pressing them against my nose.

“Sniff boy! Tell me, dirty or clean?!”

I was smelling a strong manly scent. Those have been worn, those have been sweat on. There were some hints of piss too.

“TALK TO YOUR BOSS! ARE THEY FUCKING FILTHY?”

I could no longer breathe.

“DIRTY OR CLEAN?” Frenchy was shouted in my ear.

“DIRTY!” I yelled through the underwear which were obstructing my mouth.

“Ok then, in the machine.” Frenchy smiled, letting go of me. “See, it’s not that hard.”

I was shaking as he threw the pairs of underwear in the machine. He was not done though.

“Try this one now, dirty or clean?”

This time, I took it in my hand and brought it close to my nose myself. I wanted to avoid Frenchy touching me at all costs. I breathed in.

“Dirty.” I spoke.

“Good boy.”

Frenchy was seemingly very proud of him.

The craziest part is that, in other circumstances, I would have been the first playing with this stack of men dirty briefs, but with Frenchy by my side, it felt all wrong. For a second, I considered that maybe this was karma for all the dirty underwear I had played with in my college days.

That afternoon, as I was sniffing pairs and pairs of underwear, I did learn that a good third of the inmates were not afraid to cum in their undies, I noticed undeniable cum stains in a bunch of them. I even ended up licking some of them.

When I grabbed the last underwear, there were actually drops of sperm which had not totally dried on the fabric. You could see the white substance, still thick. I sniffed it and I declared formally: “dirty”.

The basket was now empty, I had not said “clean” a single time.

Frenchy leaned back against the wall; one machine just finished turning.

“Time to fold.” He stated at my direction. He had no intention of helping me for this task.

Not only he forced me to play his twisted games but he also expected me to do the actual work.

Fucking French Asshole! But this was not over yet…