As always, when the plane touched down on the private airstrip attached to my base of operations, my intake crew were ready for the next step in the processing of the inmates. Some commenced the handover of data and medical performance for the four hapless men. Others moved to the cabin that held the docking stations and their debased contents. Even though my teams had performed this exercise on numerous occasions, nothing really prepares one for the sights and smells of the docking stations after a couple of hours’ use.
The cabin stank of sweat, sex, piss, and shit. The four exhausted men hung limply in their bondage; no longer able to summon the strength to attempt to expel the hated dildos. Our intelligence showed that all four men identified as cis/het (probably not words they’d have used), but their ordeal, buttfucking themselves in a fruitless attempt for relief, gave my psychology team much to work with.
Our team obviously has access to prison records. Howes was recorded as having a predilection for making lesser inmates suck him off. The bleached-blonde, acne-scarred thug came the closest to ejaculating during the docking station exercise. All of the inmates were limp, yet reddened, from the overstimulation of the process and yet Howes still dripped pre-cum even though flaccid. A management plan was drawn up based on these observations.
Rodriguez was 100% out of his depth. His crimes were gang-related and involved the murder of a number of rival local gang members. Being penetrated was new for all of these men, but Rodriguez, for all his machismo, was in a state of shock. His resolve and resilience during the flight, and the indignities perpetrated against him, were noted by our Psych team for exploration.
Ratherson presented as the least understood member of the cohort. My service rarely accepts serial killers, as this is a specialist area. Breaking violent murderers down for rehabilitation is, following years of research and trials, relatively straightforward. Serial killers present more of a challenge because their urges are bone-deep. My agency had taken on Ratherson’s case as a favour to the prison. He had killed 3 of his fellow inmates in as many months, and the prison warden was desperate.
Finally, Ivan. The one-eyed ex-para had become one of the most successful arms dealers in the state and had left a wake of dead rivals behind him. Of all of the men, Ivan was the one whom my team had the most security protocols for. Were he to become free before the conditioning took effect, he could do great damage to my staff and facility alike.
One at a time, the four men were removed from their docking stations, checked for physical well-being, and had their garments and the dildos removed (one of these with the accompanying squelching noises one might expect). The gags remained in place. All of the men were given a pen-jab injection of a concoction that our Bio Team had devised to ensure the next twenty minutes would be unpleasant in new and humiliating ways as they progressed to the actual Intake Area of the base.
Rodriguez couldn’t support himself, and the four agents assigned to his transition had to work with him at ground level as they stripped him of the rubber uniform, removed the soiled dildo, and wrangled him into his new attire.
By the time inmates reach our facility, they are often in this state. By making the change, from docking station paraphernalia to next steps, in front of the remaining arriving prisoners, we are establishing an understanding of authority and systemic control of the intake. Even the most determined man learns, from this process, that resistance is futile and all opportunities for escape have been meticulously precluded by our teams.
Howes groaned as he slumped into the waiting arms of the team. The removal of the uniform seemed to give him relief, for he was incredibly sweaty. The removal of the offending plug elicited a moan of pain mixed with yearning, and his reddened manhood discharged a further slew of pre-cum. He was soon accommodated in the same vein as Rodriguez and placed on the ‘waiting bench.’
Ratherson was next, and our Psyche team scrutinised his non-verbal interactions and reactions with the processing team (as they had via footage throughout the flight). His eyes darted everywhere for potential opportunities, and even his gagged pleas were situationally directed towards specific members of the team. This potential pre-manipulation rendered him no wins as the team wore reflective visors (mainly to protect from unwanted seminal discharge – it has happened, in the early days). The killer was quickly hustled from his rubber outfit and the unwanted intruder into his next equally humiliating attire.
Ivan was next, and his muscled shoulders gleamed as he was stripped of the rubber ensemble. He grunted, once only, as the dildo was worked out of his brawny arse. His exhaustion showed in the sweat dripping from his frame as he too joined his compatriots in his new garb.
Soon, each inmate was ready for the next step of the journey to the facility. All were now dressed in a flimsy, thin, white Lycra bodysuit that hugged their bodies intimately. We achieved this with measurements taken during the intake process at the prison to ensure maximum snugness.
The inmates still wore the stimulation rings around their exhausted cock and balls. A specific opening, in the front of the suits, allowed said members to flop obviously. Other than this, the suits were neck-to-toe seamless and captured every muscle group and crevice. Each man, still gagged, was shackled with a solid, collar-to-cuff, iron restraint that brought their hands up high in front of them and prevented protective or aggressive movement. Or modesty.
My operatives, ever mindful of the ticking clock on the effects of the most recent dose of medications, pulled each man to his feet and attached the necessary shackles that bound them, wrist to neck, to one another. The distance between one man’s hands and another man’s neck was almost non-existent, and the inmate's neck-to-neck was only about 70 centimetres. Our experience has shown that this is the most favourable distance to ensure an element of hobbling, as each member of the human chain adjusts to the person in front of them, but also allows a sufficient gap that each man in the chain can be witness to the next steps of our regime.
Exhausted, sweaty, exposed by the thinness of the Lycra and the obvious presentation of their most private areas, and hobbled by their need to keep up with and accommodate the man in front of them, our inmates were ushered into The Corridor.
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