Enhanced Prison - Part One
Ben had fucked up badly, but the idea of spending the next thirty years in prison was unthinkable.
He sat in the bus in his orange prisoner hoodie and striped pants, his wrists cuffed to a chain around his stomach, his legs shackled, headed towards the state penitentiary. He couldn’t believe that this was real, that he was about to spend the next thirty years of his life locked up. He’d be 59 the next time he saw freedom.
As the prison came into view, he and the other prisoners all grew quiet. It looked like something out of a nightmare, surrounded by barbed wire and guards. A heavily armed guard waved the bus through as a series of gates opened and shut to let the prisoners inside.
They filed off the bus. Ben had to get used to walking in shackles, but at least they’d be coming off soon. All the prisoners were taken to what looked like an assembly room with benches. There was a podium at the front.
Ben sat down with the rest of the prisoners.
The warden came out. He was a large man – large, but not fat. His arms and legs were huge, and the man barely had a neck to speak of. He looked out at the prisoners with a sinister gleam in his eye.
“Welcome, prisoners,” he said. “Each of you was selected because you have sentences of 30 or more years, but none of you committed violent crimes. Check fraud, drug trafficking, larceny. Our prisons are overcrowded, so the state is starting a new program. And you get to be our test subjects.”
The prisoners shifted. No one said anything.
“The point of prison,” the Warden said, “is to rehabilitate, not merely to punish. We have developed a program that will let you serve a significantly reduced sentence, as long as you are willing to endure some – accommodations,” he said. “Gentlemen, come with me, and I will explain further.”
The prisoners looked around at each other, confused. Still, Ben was excited to think that part of his sentence might be reduced. He was with about seven other prisoners, each wearing the orange prisoner hoodie, each in orange and white striped pants and black boots. They stayed shackled and handcuffed as they followed the Warden, and a pair of guards, each carrying a rifle in their hands, followed behind.
They walked through the prison yard and into an area that looked like it had been built recently. It had no windows, just three stories, as best as Ben could tell, and a single door in the front. The door was solid metal with a small window inside of it.
The Warden slid his ID through the slot on the side of the door, and a buzzer sounded. The door opened.
Once the doors were closed inside, it took Ben’s eyes a few minutes to adjust. There were eight tablet computers on what looked like school desks. Each prisoner sat down at a desk, and the guards and Warden went around and fastened their shackles to the desk with a padlock. The desks themselves were bolted to the floor.
“On the menu,” the Warden said. “You will see some ways that your sentence will be made more unpleasant, thus assuring that you will learn your lesson and you will never want to return to prison. For each option you select, a percentage of your sentence will be reduced. Note, however, that the percentages are not cumulative. Each option you select will take less and less from your sentence.
“The guards are coming around to put some headphones and VR goggles on your heads. Watch the video. It will help you understand your choices.”
The guard came around and put some goggles over Ben’s eyes and some headphones over his ears. Everything was blacked out.
And suddenly – everything was white. The Warden stood inside the video.
“Welcome to the demonstration,” the video Warden said. “I am going to demonstrate each of your options. When the video experience is concluded, you will select on the tablet computer which options you will include to make your stay more unpleasant. The more options you select, the more unpleasant, and the shorter, your sentence will be.”
An orange-clad prisoner stepped into the frame. “Hello, Warden,” the prisoner said.
“Hello, 589,” the Warden said. “Are you ready to help with the demonstration?”
“Yes, Warden,” the prisoner said.
“First of all,” the Warden said, “no matter what you choose, being in the program at all requires you to be handcuffed and shackled at all times. There are no exceptions and it will not, by itself, take any time off your sentence.”
The prisoner had shackles on his booted ankles and his hands were cuffed. The handcuff chain was a little longer than a normal handcuff chain, giving him a little more range of motion than the normal “arrest cuffs.”
“Now, your sentence reduction options. First up, the chastity cage,” the Warden said. The prisoner dropped his pants slightly to reveal a cock encased in a steel device. “No sex, no masturbation, no touching yourself. Choose this, and your sentence is reduced to 80 percent.”
Ben was about to consider the absurdity of wearing something like that on his cock when the “80 %” showed up in black letters across the screen. That was already six years off his sentence.
“A muzzle,” the Warden said. The prisoner’s pants were back up, but his face was wrapped in a leather mask that wrapped around his head and kept his jaw. “You won’t be able to talk or eat while you’re wearing it. You’ll wear it in 7 ½ hour shifts – and each shift reduced the sentence.” A table of text appeared in black as the Warden spoke, revealing the numbers. “One shift reduces to 95 percent. Two shifts is another 95 percent, and three shifts – so basically, all the time, except when you’re eating – an additional 90 percent. All three add up to a reduction to about 81 percent.”
The prisoner’s muzzle was removed. “Hygiene Reduction Torture,” the Warden said.
“What’s that?” the Prisoner asked.
“You’ll be provided with no deodorant or soap, ever,” the Warden said. The prisoner suddenly looked filthy, hair greasy and skin covered in grime.
“Disgusting? Absolutely! And your sentence is reduced to 85 percent.”
The filthy prisoner returned back to his clean-looking self. “Adding a steel collar, which we’ll weld closed around your neck” – the collar appeared around the neck of the shackled prisoner – “is a reduction to 90 percent.” The neck collar didn’t vanish like some of the other options had. As the Warden cycled through the rest of the options, the prisoner’s collar stayed on.
“Each of you has a cell that is 10 feet by 5 feet. If you opt, instead, to sleep inside a small cage, 5 by 3 x 3, it’s reduced to 95 percent.” The prisoner stepped into a small cage, and the door closed and locked behind him.
“Sleep deprivation torture means you’ll only get to sleep five hours a night, with no naps allowed, ever, but it reduces your sentence to 90 percent. Urinal service” – the prisoner was let out of the cage, but he wore a type of gag that had a funnel at the end of it – “means that the guards piss down your throat, and your sentence is reduced to 90 percent. Punching bag torture” – the prisoner’s hands were suspended over his head – “means that for 15 to 20 minutes a day, a guard gets to use you for a punching bag!” The Warden socked the prisoner in the stomach, for effect.
“Sensory deprivation torture will gain you some quick reductions,” the Warden said. The prisoner wore a hood that completely blocked out its vision and hearing. “Like the muzzle, it’s in 7 ½ hour shifts – 90 percent, 85 percent, and 80 percent. If you take all three, you’ll get 90 minutes a day to see and hear, and your sentenced is reduced to 61 percent.”
Ben’s heart leapt. Having to be hooded all the time sounded awful, but that was almost half of his sentence if he took all three shifts.
“Leashed to the wall.” The prisoner’s hood was off, but now a chain, around 8 feet long, reached from his neck and was bolted to a length of wall that had popped up behind him. “You’ll spend 16 hours a day chained like this to a wall for a reduction to 85 percent. Kick it up to 24 hours a day, and it’s an additional 75 percent – for a total reduction to 64 percent.”
The leash and the wall disappeared. Once again the prisoner’s hands were suspended above his head. “Suspension torture,” the Warden said. “For three hours a day, you’re chained up like this. If you pick this and punching bag torture, you can do them together. This is a reduction to 85 percent.
“Electro shock torture” – the prisoner was no longer suspended, but there was something added to the steel collar, a small mechanism that stuck out – “means that you will receive 12 random shocks throughout the day. They are completely random and can come at any time.”
The Warden pressed a button, and the prisoner screamed, grabbing the collar that he couldn’t remove. The prisoner fell to his knees, but the shock ended about five seconds after it started. “This is a reduction to 85 percent.
“Hypnosis therapy,” the Warden continued, “means you’ll spend an hour a day plugged into the very device you’re wearing now.” The prisoner’s ears had headphones and his eyes were covered with the VR goggles. “You’ll learn new skills, learn to be a better person, and get a reduction to 80 percent of your sentence.
“Now, the last three options. You’re already going to be shackled and handcuffed, so why not upgrade?” The prisoner’s wrists and ankles were no longer just cuffed and ironed – instead, he wore heavy manacles and heavy shackles, adding what looked like ten extra pounds of weight. “The manacles take you to 80 percent, and the shackles to 80 percent. Do both, and you’re at 64 percent.
“The final option,” the Warden said, “is the most important one.” The prisoner vanished, leaving just the Warden. “Participation in the Enhanced Prison is entirely voluntary. You can end it at any time, and whatever time you served in the Enhanced Prison will be subtracted from your sentence. If, however, you choose to make your restrictions involuntary, meaning you cannot back out, you will earn” – the number loomed large in the video, “a 50 percent reduction in your sentence.”
The video ended. The VR goggles and headphones were removed.
“As you can see,” said the real Warden, “Enhanced Prison won’t be easy or pleasant. But try out your options and see how much your sentence can be reduced.”
Ben’s cuffs were taken off the belly chain so he could use the tablet. It was already programmed for him specifically.
Prisoner: Benjamin Howard
Original Sentence: 30 Years
Click each box to add or remove the Sentence Reduction Option.
Leg Irons Not Optional
Handcuffs Not Optional
Chastity 80%
Muzzle 1/3 95%
Muzzle 2/3 95%
Muzzle 3/3 90%
Hygiene Reduction 85%
Steel Collar 90%
Cage Sleeping 95%
Sleep Deprivation 90%
Urinal Service 90%
Punching Bag 90%
Sensory Dep. 1/3 90%
Sensory Dep. 2/3 85%
Sensory Dep. 3/3 80%
Leashed 2/3 85%
Leashed 3/3 75%
Suspension Torture 85%
Electro Shock 85%
Hypnosis Therapy 80%
Heavy Manacles 80%
Heavy Shackles 80%
No Reset 50%
UPDATED SENTENCE: 30 Years
What could Ben live with? He put check boxes next to chastity, steel collar, heavy manacles, and heavy shackles.
The final line revealed the updated sentence: 13 years, 10 months.
Just like that, his sentence had been cut in half. When he checked the “No Reset” option, meaning he couldn’t go back and be a regular prisoner, he was down to 6 years, 11 months.
Suddenly Ben realized that he could have some sort of future. He could get out before he was 40. He didn’t necessarily love the idea of being chained up all the time, but he already knew he was going to do it.
Already down to seven years, Ben wondered – what else could he live with? Maybe he was going about this wrong. He was in prison, for shit’s sake. It was already going to suck. Quickly he went through and added every option, just to see what would happen, and was shocked to see what his potential sentence could be.
Updated Sentence: 9 months.
He stared at that number for a long time. Each unpleasant thing he removed would add months or years to his sentence, a sentence that was already going to be fucking terrible because of the Enhancements. What could he absolutely NOT deal with?
He removed “Urinal Service.” 10 months. An extra month not to have to drink piss seemed worth it. He clicked “Sensory Deprivation” down from full time to 2/3 time. 1 year.
He sighed. He clicked off “Hygiene Reduction” and it added three months. Could he live without being clean for a year? At the end of the year, would he have wished he’d just been smelly and gross the entire time?
No. He wanted to be able to bathe. Clicking off “Electro Shock” added an extra two months. There were still lots of tortures, lots of indignities. But when he tried to click off being leashed to the wall, it added ten months back onto his sentence.
He could handle being chained to the wall. He could. He’d be clean, he wouldn’t be being shocked all the time, and he wouldn’t have to drink anyone’s piss. A year and a half instead of 30 years. He’d be chained up and muzzled the whole time, he’d sleep in a cage, he’d be hooded and tortured a whole, whole lot. But his life could go on later.
“Are you ready?” the guard asked.
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I – I think so,” he said.
The guard nodded to the Warden. “This one’s ready, Sir.”
The Warden grinned. “Good. Get him ready please, Mr Galveston. Once he’s all situated, the sentence can begin.”
Unlike the no-necked Warden, Galveston seemed kind, pleasant, almost friendly. In a different life, maybe they could have gotten along better. His hair was cut pretty short, showing lots of skin where the sides and back of his head were shaved, and he walked with a swagger and confidence that Ben, even in these circumstances, actually envied.
“Hey,” Galveston said to Ben, “you didn’t check the ‘urinal service’ one. That’s probably one of the easiest ones. It’ll take two whole months off your sentence.”
“I don’t want to drink piss,” Ben said.
“Bro,” Galveston said, smiling, “it’ll be my piss. It won’t be that bad. It’ll only be once a day. You’ve checked off so many things here that you’re basically gunna be in hell for a year. What’s one more thing? Do that and the electro shock torture and you’re talking another four months. That’s four months sooner you can get back to your life.”
They arrived in an open area with a bench built into the wall. There were no windows, but the lights here made it easy to see without being unpleasant. “All right, dude, let’s get you ready.” Galveston cuffed Ben to the bench and went to get everything ready, pulling chains and things out of the cabinets. “Okay, let’s do the chastity first.”
“Nah, dude. It just feels snug. The Warden had us do all this too. The ‘prisoner’ in the video you watched was actually another guard. I’ve put on and done everything you can do. That’s what I’m telling you, seriously. The shock collar’s not that bad. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it fucking sucks for those few seconds, but then it’s over.”
“My own piss,” Galveston said. “You had to do everything on the list to get this assignment. Okay! Let’s get your cock locked away.”
The device went around Ben’s cock. He was surprised how hard he tried to get, all things considered. He was surprised by how much he liked having Galveston slide the device on, attaching the rings and the cage and then snapping it all into place. A well-placed rivet rendered the entire thing permanent.
“All right. So from now on you’ll have to wear snap-on clothes because you’re going to be chained up all the time.” Galveston pulled out the heavy chains Ben would be wearing continuously.
“I’m literally never taking them off? The whole time?”
“Not even once,” Galveston said. “We have to make sure they fit right, because once they’re on, they’re on. We don’t have to have you change clothes yet. Later we can just cut off the clothes you’re wearing right now.”
Still cuffed to the bench, Ben’s other restraints got removed – briefly. On went the heavy manacles, the heavy shackles, and a thick steel collar with an 8-foot chain leash around his neck. All of them were fitted with screw-locks, then sealed with a metal epoxy.
“How are you feeling?” Galveston asked.
“You’ll be okay. You look good in these chains, by the way. It suits you somehow.”
“I just know I won’t spend the rest of my life in prison,” Ben said, “because I’m doing this. So whatever. What else still has to happen?”
“I still need to get your muzzle. That’s really not that bad, either. You can still grunt kind of. But … shit, man. Don’t do the sleep deprivation one.”
“No, dude. You’re talking over a year of getting five hours a sleep a night. Look, the piss one is the same reduction as the sleep one. Just trade them out. Three minutes of drinking my piss every once in a while in exchange for three or four hours a sleep a night. It’s a good trade.”
Ben snorted. “You really want me to drink your piss, don’t you?”
Galveston laughed. “I kinda do, man. I know you don’t believe me, but you look so fucking great in all these chains. Hey, your muzzle’s right here. You ready?”
“One more thing,” Ben said. “Are you going to be the one doing the … the … well, when I’m …”
“Am I your torturer?” Galveston finished. He patted Ben on the back. “Yeah man, I am. Your rehabilitation is going to be my full time job.”
Ben bit him lip. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. It’s going to suck for you. I won’t lie. But I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’m going to hurt you a lot, Ben, but I won’t damage you. You’ll come out of this okay in the end. And most importantly, you’ll come out of it a young man, not a washed-up ex-con in his 60s.”
Ben nodded. “Do the piss thing, then.”
“Alright, man! Take off the sleep torture?”
“You’ll be glad. Alright then, here’s the muzzle. Once that’s on I’ll take you to the cell, and since you picked being chained to the wall all the time, we’re going to anchor it right in place. I’ll do all the torturing right there in your cell. Oh, one more thing.”
Galveston pulled out the sensory deprivation hood. “You chose to wear this two-thirds of the time. When you wake up in the morning I’ll let you pick which eight-hour period you want the hood off. But you’re going to wear it every night and half of the day, every day.”
The muzzle went around Ben’s face. A strap went between his eyes to hold it all in place, and Galveston pulled out some small locks to keep it secured. He then pulled Ben by the chain and took him through a door and up some stairs.
Ben passed five cells on the way to one in the very back of a row.
“Go inside,” Galveston ordered.
Inside the cell, Ben saw a small cage where a bed should have been. There was a toilet, sink, and small shower with a drain in the floor. There was a chain and hook hanging from the middle of the room, probably for the suspension torture.
And there was a ring attached to the wall.
Galveston took out a padlock. He threaded the leash-chain into the wall ring and locked the leash in place. Then he pulled out some metal epoxy and filled the keyhole.
“Alright, dude,” he said. “I think you’re all set. I won’t put the hood on tonight or make you sleep in the cage – tonight. I think you’re going to have enough of an adjustment as it is. We’ve got over a year to make sure you’re rehabilitated.”
“One more thing,” Galveston said as he closed the door to the cell, “I picked you. The eight of us that were selected for this assignment got to pick the prisoners we wanted. My reputation is on the line. So I’m going to be completely sure, by the end of this, that you really are completely rehabilitated.
“Try to sleep, Ben. Tomorrow, we’ll really get to work.”
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