The Professor's Practicum If you enjoy the stories on Nifty, as I certainly do, please join me in supporting Nifty. Chapter 3That evening I stayed in my prisoner whites, including white boxers, and slept in my leg shackles and white boxers with my white prisoner suit beside my bed, and now joined by a pair of black prisoner boots which I had found on the internet. I had to get up once in the night as I had stroked myself into shooting with the idea of being a prisoner and loving the feel, and the sound of the shackles on my ankles. The next morning I walked around my house in my prison whites and in shackles. Finally after my noon meal which I deliberately made a boloney sandwich with my oldest bread, and I served the sandwich on a plastic tray with a dab of warm applesauce and nothing else, I went upstairs and released myself from my ankle shackles and folded my white prisoner suit and put it away in the hidden niche where I also stashed my chains and cuffs. I had enjoyed my time playing prisoner. Jim had really gotten my fantasy life stimulated by his response to my mentioning of being a prisoner. I realized that I needed to get going if I would have anything decent for dinner that evening. I thought about trying to find out what was being served at the jail downtown and serve that... of course mine would be better prepared and hot. After some thought I discarded that idea as being too cute, and perhaps given my faux pas about prisons last evening this idea was too revealing of my fascination with prisons and prisoners... in more than an academic way. In the end I called the butcher and asked if he had a couple of "T" bones, and when he said he did I told him I would be there as soon as possible. I got into my car, and, in driving the three miles to the meat market, I thought over the previous evening and even more my great night and morning. After I bought the steaks, some fresh green beans, a couple nice baking potatoes, and the ingredients for the salad, I drove back home and laughed to myself that I was indeed acting like the classic gay guy...nice little cook and host.Well anyway, I made all the preparations for the dinner, and then decided I would wait to cook both the steaks and the potatoes until Jim arrived. Not only would I not have overcooked food but cooking would give us something to talk about.Around 6:00 Jim was knocking at my door. Jim arrived with a file folder in his hand, but he did not share its content with me, instead leaving it on a table in the foyer. I really wanted to sneak a peak at it, but with dinner on the patio I had no chance.Over dinner we exchanged neighbor talk about his day and housing division issues."That was a great dinner. Thanks" was Jim's comment as we finished off dinner with a new and very cold beer for him, and some after dinner wine for me. I had thought of having some sort of fancy dessert, but decided that just beer would best work for Jim. He seemed very satisfied, and so I thought, for once I had got it right."Really nice dinner," Jim intoned. "Thanks," I replied.At that Jim got up, went back to the foyer, and returned with that interesting and mysterious folder."When you mentioned that the two sides who knew about prison were correction officers and prisoners, my mind went back to an unusual occurrence that had occurred that very day." He paused, and I sensed that I just needed to wait for the rest of the story."This folder is a sentencing report for a man named Jim Cox. He was convicted in a trial of stealing from several unlocked cars. He had been identified by four eye witnesses as the man who they had seen loitering around their cars, which they later found to have been broken into."Cox denied these, and all through his arrest and trial he did not change his protests of innocence. However he was convicted, and released on bond. This folder is the required pre-sentence for Cox. His sentencing is scheduled for this Friday. However, on Monday, the day we had our previous chat, another man was doing elocution in court (for non legal folk, this is a formal statement made in court in which a person lists all of the crimes for which he has pled guilty) and Anderson in his statement listed the thefts at Loews for which Cox had been convicted. The prosecution and the public defender both realized that Anderson had deviated from the expected script, and after a conference, the man admitted both his error and also then repeated in court that he had not intended to admit to those break ins but he had indeed done them, and even admitted that in his home he still had a couple of the items that were too unusual to safely pawn."Jim paused and took a long pull on his beer."When you mentioned that the only chance if not being a guard was being a convict, I remembered that I had the pre-sentence report on Cox on my desk. His case is scheduled to come to court on Friday. The deputy prosecutor for that trial is a childhood friend of mine, and so I asked him for a favor."I am wondering if you would like to take Mr. Cox's place in that sentencing hearing. The judge is just coming back from vacation, and has not heard of the other trial." With that Jim handed me the folder, and I immediately started reading through it. One of the first items I noted was a statement from the prosecutor that if Cox would finally admit his guilt and accept responsibility, then, instead of recommending one full year of required prison time before being eligible for parole, the state would be willing to accept a six month minimum.I glanced through the rest of the sentencing report which mentioned that Cox was a bachelor, lived alone, and was self employed. When I was done assimilating the gist of the report, I looked up at Jim "As you probably know, in my capacity as an officer of the court, I am interested in the miscarriages of justice. Is there something in this report that I am missing?"Jim gave me a sort of smile, "Well as you know there are many, many courtrooms for a city of this size..." I rather winced at this remark. I was probably as aware as any policeman of the size of the court system for this county, which was also the largest city and the capitol of the state. My face must have given away my feelings more than I intended because Jim responded, "I'm sorry. Of course you know. "Now your remark caused me to think that this strange situation provided us with a unique opportunity." Jim continued."I think I can substitute you for Jim Cox, and you can have six months in the prison system totally anonymously."I sat there stunned, and for me, in the unusual sense, speechless.Jim just sat there and looked at me.In my mind I was both very attracted to this possibility, and also very frightened. I did know that going into the prison system would be dangerous, but, as I thought about it, I realized that I would have, at least in my own mind, with some protection for my pretending to be a prisoner if someone in authority knew the truth. After what I thought was just a moment, but what Jim told me that seemed to him to be at least a minute, "How would it work?" was my stunned reply. I realize that that reply of "How would it work?" showed that already I was ready to accept this very scary, but also, judging from the blood flowing into the little head of mine at the bottom of my body's trunk, exciting idea. One should know not to think only with one's libido."Well" Jim replied. I have already erased all of Jim Cox's materials from the computer. This action would have been done as a part of the clean up for his total acquittal; however, usually the clean ups take a week or more to be done. ."If you are interested, I will take you down tonight, get your mug shot taken and your finger prints entered into a record for you that will be brought with you to prison." Jim paused at this point, and just looked at me. I realized that my decision point was at hand. Did I have the brains to say "No" to this, for me, very dangerous idea, or would I go ahead with my I wanted to do, and become a convicted felon, and soon be on my way to prison... with no special privileges and really no escape. Chapter 4 Jim sat there and looked at me. My brain was clicking off many good reasons not to do this. Clearly I would be helpless...just another offender in the system. What could I do if somehow I became involved in some sort of prison situation, and was given more time before I could apply for parole. Of course I knew that I would be a weak looking white man in a part of the US society in which blacks are the majority, and I would be the much more helpless minority. My contacts with inmates over the years had given me some sort of an idea of how careful a weak white man had to be in prison.
After my logical mind told me of all the reasons not to do this, my small head lower on the body showed that it truly rules the male psyche."This sounds dangerous, but possibly could be the basis of making my support for inmates much more understanding, and also might give me many more ideas of how to help inmates after I return to be myself."Jim smiled. "Then let's get started. You need to go and change clothes. I know you must have some old beat up jeans, and a `t' of some kind. Also you should be in some old beat up tennis shoes. I will go over and make arrangements and be back in a half hour. We have to get a mug shot of you to put into the sentencing folder. Even though you will be sentenced by a different judge than presided over the trial, the mug shot that is a part of this folder will have to be of you and not Jim Cox. I will also need to put Jim Cox's mug shot date on the mug shot. I know that the mug shot operator goes on a break at 11:00 pm to 11:30, and so you need to be ready around 10:30.""Sounds great." was my lame reply. We both got up, and I walked with Jim to the front door. Upstairs I found a pair of jeans that I used to work in the yard and garden. They were faded, had some holes in them, and since I used them for dirty work, were dirty and a white "T" that also was one I wore for yard work. Not only was it dirty, but I suspect here was an aura of dried sweat on it that would keep most persons suitably offended. I also found an old pair a tennis shoes that not only were dirty, but had a hole on the top of what would be my left foot's big toe. I also found an old pair of white boxers I had bought in a thrift store with the intention of donating them to a charity clothing drive. However, when I got them home and discovered how really poorly they were constructed and decided that they were not up to charitable giving standards. They had just been in the bottom of my underwear drawer for a couple of years now..I gathered all my arrestee clothing, and looking at them realized that if I dressed up in them, got a mug shot, and went through with the court appearance, I would no longer have options. I would be a convict, and be owned by the Department of Corrections. Did I really want to do this my head questioned? I sat and slowly realized that my little penis was growing as I thought about really being locked up – behind bars and locked doors. To really hear, smell, feel, and experience the total inmate life like no play inmate time could occur when anyone in the system knew my real identity was finally too much of a libido thrill not to do. I finally was honest with myself. I wanted this to satisfy a fantasy desire I had kept hidden for years. I always knew it was there, but never knew how to achieve it. Honestly I knew my dedication to prison reform and prisoner rights was only partially professionally and altruistically motivated. Deep deep below I was less a public spirited academic, and more a voyeur whose good deeds had less noble motivations. I dressed myself in this outfit, and mused to myself "Clothes do indeed make the man." No one looking at my clothes would guess that I was not one of the homeless, or at best the lowest of the working poor.Soon after 10:00 I dressed in my old clothes and made my transformation from collegiate prep to dingy bum. Around 10:15 I heard the doorbell. Answering the bell, I saw Jim in his police uniform. He was pressed, clean, polished, and intimidating with his firearm prominently on his hip, and other items of power and control such as two sets of handcuffs spaced all around his shiny belt. Even his shoes shown with shiny perfection.Jim smiled, "You look great. Just like most guys we arrest.""Thanks I guess.
"Well, let's get going. Jim said, smiling at me. It was just the encouragement I needed."Right!" I responded, and out the front door we went. I was so excited I almost forgot to lock the door. After I locked the door, Jim held out his hand."Better let me have the keys. You would be out of character with house keys.""Right" I said, and thought "Now that I have nothing in my pockets, and no way to identify myself as myself." I already was feeling different than the self confident college prof. We walked across the fairly dark street to his white police car which was parked in his driveway next to his huge black monster truck. I went to the rider's side of the car, and stood by the front door waiting for him to unlock it for me to get in. "No, Andy. Over here" Jim ordered.I went around the back of the police car and stood in front of Jim"Turn around and hands behind your back." To my surprised look, he added. "You have to arrive downtown like the suspect you are supposed to be. Therefore you ride in the back seat and in handcuffs."I shrugged and turned around. "I'll not snap then on you or tighten them as tight as usual, but you'll need to look authentic not only in those con clothes, but with your con wrists in their correct placement cuffed behind your back."I felt his hands take control of my wrists, and soon the feel of a handcuff being fitted around my right wrist, and clicked snug, but not tight, then the same with the left. I thought we were done, as the few times I had been in a bondage play with another guy once the cuffs were on we were ready to play. However, then Jim did something else with each cuff, all the time holding my wrists steady. Jim must have sensed my surprise."Cuffs lock when put on, but to keep them from getting tighter as the prisoner moves around, you needs to lock the cuff in position."I nodded as if I understood.Then Jim opened the back door, and put his hand on my head, and guided me onto the back seat. Once I was placed, he put a thicker and wider than normal seat belt across my waist and chest, and clicked it close. I realized that the seat belt not only served the usual function of keeping me in place in case of an accident, but also kept me in position on the seat. I realized that I could not reach the seat belt release because of the handcuffs locking my hands behind my back."Looking at me, Jim said, "Beginning to feel like a perp on the way to jail?""Yes, and I did not realize how completely controlled you are with just handcuffs and a seat belt." I did not mention that bondage was a secret fetish of mine, and being locked into the seat was again stimulating my libido, and my little cock.Jim got into the front seat, and we began our trip downtown. When we arrived downtown at the police headquarters Jim drove us down a ramp under the jail. I had driven by this ramp many times, and on more than one occasion I had to wait as a paddy wagon with its lights flashing drove down that ramp. Now I would knew what was at the bottom.It wasn't too exciting. Jim drove over from right in front of doors entering the jail basement to an area marked "Police Vehicles." He got out, and I again realized that I would not be getting out until I was released. Already I was getting the emotions from being controlled – helpless for your own actions. Instead of coming to the back door and opening it up, instead Jim went over to where there were several other police officers and jail workers taking a smoke break. I of course just stayed where I was. I was parked, just like the car, and without a driver/operator, I was just a helpless.Finally Jim opened the back door. "Just keep quiet and look like someone just arrested.""I don't think I'll have any trouble doing as ordered, SIR," I replied. I did feel like a person just arrested and for that reason I guess the "SIR" just popped out.Even though my brain knew that I was really not on my way to jail, the experience of walking into the jail, and hearing the outside door close behind you is emotional...at least it was to me. With his hand firmly on my handcuffed wrists I was navigated into a hallway, and then into a big room with a desk on the other side of the room, and several rows of plastic chairs facing the desk. As I looked at the occupants of the chairs, I realized that I was looking at others like me. Many were dressed in fairly shabby clothing. I saw a couple of teenagers who I hoped not to see in any of my classes, although as I looked now I was not sure I would be recognized, as I always wore a jacket and tie to class, unlike many colleagues who dressed in jeans. I disapproved of such informality.Jim continued to navigate me through the rows and toward the desk."Hi Sara" Jim said to the uniformed jailer at the desk. "Got a potential perp for a mug shot." "This is Frank's dinner break, I think" Sara said , not even looking up at Jim or me."Damn. I would like to get this guy in the system and take him up for interrogation. How bout I just mug him myself."I winced at Jim's pun. It was as bad as most of mine."Sure, just go on up. You can do it as well as Frank anyway.""Thanks gorgeous" Jim said as I was firmly moved down a hallway. We went around a corner and entered an area with the sign "BOOKING" above the door. Through the door I was taken to a wall with the familiar large measuring marks up the wall. Jim placed me facing toward the camera and ordered me to face forward toward the camera. As I stood in place as ordered, Jim worked with a black cloth backed board with several lines of horizontal slits in it. As I watched him fill in the slits with letters with my name James M. Cox, and the date which I noted was almost four months earlier. He uncuffed my wrists and gave this board to me."Hold this at collar height" he ordered.I held the board, and stared into the camera. I saw my mug shot on a monitor. It was like all the many I had seen on tv. I looked disoriented, and my face was not smiling. Jim took the two profiles, and then a long shot showing my whole body from several views. He took the board from me, removed all the lettering, and returned it. He then grasped my wrists again, and without comment to me, I was again handcuffed with my hands behind my back.I stood there silent awaiting orders or being taken to wherever Jim would take me. I was in almost an out-of-body experience. Jim then again took me by my wrists, and we went to an elevator. When it arrived, Jim pressed "5" and we started our upward journey. The elevator I noted was different in that all the walls and the floor were steel."I said you were going to be interrogated and so we need to go to interrogation for a time." I made no reply, and in doing so amazed myself. I was accepting that Jim could and would take me where he wanted, and I would go meekly and helplessly.When we got to the 5th floor we were clearly in the police department area, and there were both uniformed and plain clothes policemen and women walking around in the area. Jim guiding a handcuffed man aroused only the most casual interest.We got to a cubicle, and again Jim placed me in a chair. He held my arms so that hands were behind the chair. As soon as I was seated Jim reached behind me and I felt and heard a chain being attached to my cuffs. "That chain is attached to the chair. It keeps a suspect from making any attempt to run. It is hard to make much progress dragging a chair behind you." All this was stated in a very authoritative low voice. I nodded, and Jim sat down in his desk chair and looked at me."Are you having fun yet?""I must admit that in these clothes and with cuffs on somehow I became a different person." was my answer. "Well you and I are going to chatting for at least a half hour since I need to be here interrogating you in case someone down at Intake decides to call me. If I said I was going to interrogate you, then that is what needs to happen.""These cuffs behind the chair are rather uncomfortable. Can you release me or put the cuffs on in some other way?" "NO" was the firm reply. "You have to be like any other person we interrogate here in the bull pen. Of course you are uncomfortable. We want you to be. That discomfort might make you more willing to confess."And so for what seemed like much more than a half hour, I sat uncomfortably answering questions about my classes, and what other things I had done on my sabbatical. After the interrogation lasted long enough, Jim released me from the chair and we went out into the hall. Jim led me into a rest room. There my wrists were uncuffed, and I instinctively rubbed my wrists. Author's CommentIf you enjoyed the story so far, please let the author. None of us are paid money for the work of preparing a story, and so our pay is knowing that we connected with a reader. Thanks