Male inmates & feet

This young man was caught for identity fraud, illegally reaping benefits to bathe his disabled ass in luxury. That lifestyle now has to be exchanged. And the judge showed no mercy: 15 years in a maximum-security state prison. As he is led away, he stares blankly ahead, consumed by thoughts of how his fragile body will survive in such a harsh environment. One wonders where his bare immobile feet will end up taking him.

Or this tough guy. Arrested for prolonged stalking and threatening his ex-girlfriend after she left him. Here he is being wheeled out of the courtroom, where the judge sentenced him to 1.5 years in the local jail. He had already suffered greatly during the four weeks he spent locked up awaiting trial. Last week, two fellow inmates hid his wheelchair during the night and stole his jumpsuit and underwear. As a result, he had to crawl completely naked across the central common area to beg the guards for help. They eventually carried him away. The thought of having to stay in that place for another year and a half filled him with little hope as he was escorted back. What humiliations still awaited him?

This guy had shown signs of disturbing behavior earlier in the week during his conviction hearing. That is why he was placed under heightened supervision and wheeled into the courtroom wearing an anti-suicide smock. The inmate is still somewhat dazed from the sedatives they had administered to him. The thought of hearing his sentence had triggered a panic attack, including hyperventilation. In his hazy state, he did not realize how ridiculous he looked, dressed in that gown, chains around his hands, and fleshy bare feet squeezed into worn slides that were too small. Not to mention the sour sweaty smell coming from beneath his smock. Ultimate humiliation.

The same fate befell this elderly man. Due to a reopened cold case, his name came under judicial scrutiny. An unsolved hit-and-run case from 50 years ago — a foolish act from his youth — pointed in his direction. From nursing home to local jail and soon to a heavily secured state prison, where he would spend the rest of his old age locked up. Since he no longer posed much danger — he could barely remember his own name — handcuffs and leg irons were deemed unnecessary. Although, if he wanted to, he could easily turn the claws on his toes into weapons. But he certainly should not expect a pedicure in prison.

Being disabled makes inmate extra vulnerable. Aging adds yet another layer of humiliation to that. This old bastard was arrested for attacking his wife — who cared for him — with a knife. The enraged old inmate was shouting as he was wheeled out of the courtroom. Contrary to what he had expected, he was not going home, but back to the local jail. And soon almost certainly to a maximum-security prison. His wife — exhausted and terrorized by his behavior — had decided to press charges after all. Now he suddenly risked prosecution for attempted manslaughter, and with it a sentence of up to seven years in prison. Perhaps he was so upset because he was wondering who would wipe the shit from his ass there.

This peer of his underwent everything with remarkable resignation. Staring blankly ahead, he endured his sentence: 3–5 years in a minimum-security prison camp for bribery and corruption during his local political mandate. In a kind of state of shock, he was transferred the very same day. During the strip search, the prison guards would also have to completely undress him. The smell that would greet them when removing the plastic clogs from his bare stinky feet would, to put it mildly, be an unpleasant surprise.

“Wake up, you lazy piece of shit!”

The inmate had only recently arrived at the local jail. He was not yet used to the morning routine.

As a student, he always slept in. But here in the local jail, the day began harshly at 5 a.m.

He had been sentenced to three months because, after several warnings, he had been unable to pay the rent for his studio apartment.

His first morning in jail was an immediate rude awakening from his quiet life on the outside.

Here we see him after breakfast, when he wanted to go back for a nap. He was not used to getting up early anyway. And his first night in jail had not gone well either. He had barely slept because of the snoring coming from the bed beneath him.

He had just dozed off when the guard roughly dragged him back to reality.

“Get your stinking feet out of that bed! You’re on work duty today! Move it, you’re cleaning the toilets!”

His sleepy head still did not quite grasp it.

“What? You can’t be serious. I’m so tired.”

But he was granted no rest. After sliding his bare, smelly feet into his jail slides — he had not showered since being brought in — he shuffled along with the guard to the work area.

“Tomorrow I’ll be out of here. Until then, I’m just chilling in bed for a bit, in these pajamas.”

The young man had been brought into the local jail the previous evening. He had been arrested for disorderly conduct.

He had been out for the evening at a bar. He had drunk too much and harassed a group of girls. After several bouts of verbal abuse and a scuffle with the bar staff, the police were called. The young man resisted, but he was forcefully and efficiently arrested and taken straight to jail.

“Don’t you know who I am?! I’ll be out of here tomorrow! My family will have me free in no time, you pathetic idiots!”

At the jail, he was booked and subjected to a strip search. His expensive designer clothes were confiscated; he had to take off his socks and exclusive sneakers.

While he was ordered to bend over and spread his bare buttocks, he sneered at the guards:

“That’s what filthy rich looks like!”

After that, he was put in the shower. He was given jail boxers, a jumpsuit, and jail slides. Socks were not deemed necessary. It was nighttime. He was escorted to a cell.

Here we see the young inmate the next morning, just awake. He is still experiencing everything in a haze.

“Just chilling for a bit, sleeping off this hangover.”

The following day, he was due to appear before the judge. He was confident that his father had arranged everything. He came from a wealthy family, one that always got things done. He would get off with a warning.

What he had not taken into account, however, was that his father was tired of his defiant behavior. He had agreed with the judge that the maximum sentence was appropriate.

And so it happened: six months’ imprisonment in the local jail.

When he heard that, he felt the ground sink away beneath his bare feet in the slides.

Speechless, trembling, he was led out of the courtroom by two burly guards, shuffling on his bare feet in the slides toward the jail where he would serve his sentence.

He was terrified. Daddy had abandoned me.

Back in jail, he ended up in another unit, where the inmates stayed in large dormitories.

Powerless, he dropped onto the empty bed assigned to him, kicked the slides off his bare feet, and curled up on the bed in the fetal position.

As a tear rolled down his cheek, he felt a touch on his foot, coming from the bed in front of him.

Nice to see how they lock up prisoners in South Korea.

Convicted criminals are placed in shared cells—sometimes with up to ten inmates in a single room. They sleep on the floor.

The uniform is a nice touch too: a blue or grey pajama-style outfit worn both day and night.

Inside their cells, inmates go without shoes—often barefoot.

Their bare feet tend to look pale, soft, and clean. It’s clear South Korean prisoners take care of their feet.

You can almost smell this picture.

Yesterday, a respected businessman. Today, a helpless inmate.

He once ruled his company with an iron fist. Now, he’s the one who has to follow orders.

Deep down, the shame is eating him alive—especially after spotting a few of his former employees standing outside the courthouse during his hearing.

He knows how ridiculous and pathetic he looks: shackled, in a jail jumpsuit, wearing plastic slides on his bare feet. A humiliating experience, especially next to the police officers and guards escorting him to the prison transport van.

The news he just received from the judge made one thing clear: he wouldn’t be regaining his freedom anytime soon. The charges against him? Attempted premeditated murder.

He had hired a hitman to kill his wife—planning to run off with his mistress. He intended to sell the company and enjoy a new life with his younger lover.

None of that is happening now. His wife is still alive—and will likely spend his millions, while he begins a new life of punishment. He’s facing a 30-year sentence, most likely in a maximum-security prison. Among hardened criminals. Steel bars. Guards barking orders at him every hour of every day. No privacy. Mandatory chores like scrubbing toilets and mopping floors. Poor hygiene.

Cebrities in Chains

Even O.J. Simpson couldn’t escape a humiliating appearance in court.

And he immediately “opted” for the ultimate shameful look: a jail-issued pajama, tightly shackled hands, and bare feet in plastic jail slides. The contrast makes him look extra ridiculous and vulnerable next to his guards, dressed in their imposing uniforms and sturdy boots.

Soon, O.J.’s pale, clammy, slightly sour-smelling feet would carry him to his next destination: a medium-security state prison where he would spend the next nine years behind bars.

He would tell them how it was. 

As a manager, he was used to settling cases and convincing people he was right. So contrary to what his lawyer had advised him, he would argue his own case in court. 

Although he did otherwise wear a tight suit in board meetings instead of these jail pajamas he had had on his body for three weeks since his arrest for attempted bribery, he was confident of his case. 

Soon he would be allowed to take off his uniform and kick the orange slides off his feet, and like a free man he could once again choose what to wear. Unfortunately for him, things turned out completely differently. 

After he made a fool of himself and the judge undercut all his arguments, he retreated to the back of the courtroom. 

Meanwhile, his lawyer tried to patch up the pieces. But the harm had already been done. As tears rolled down his cheeks, he prayed for a happy ending, then humbly and dejectedly stood beside his lawyer to hear the verdict.

That was harsh: 5.5 years of incarceration in a low-security prison. He could not believe that he would lose his freedom for so long and have to obey day after day. No privacy, living in dirty conditions, among other prisoners.... During the ride back to the local jail - from where he would be escorted to the state prison the following day - he had cried the entire ride. Nor could he hide that when he was photographed again for the adjustment of his criminal record: from suspect to convict. 

Making an appearance in a courtroom packed with other low-life inmates is always a special experience. There is a story behind every picture.

For example, appearing in a suicide smock, like this young man, is extra humiliating. The feeling of having such a robe on is even more humiliating than the feeling the other criminals have in their jail pajamas. Although the latter may not be wearing clean underwear, the young man at the front wears nothing at all under his robe. His sweet-smelling penis dangles below and his sour-smelling unwashed ass is exposed to the open air. The only similarity is that he also wears his plastic slides barefoot. But his bare ankles, unlike the other boys, have steel chains hanging from them. That completes the humiliation.

These inmates appear before the judge via video link. But that means he has to miss out on a lot.

- The sound of restless shuffling and clinking chains.

- The sultry-sweet scent of sweaty bodies wrapped in unwashed jail uniforms.

- The sour smell of sweaty bare feet in plastic slides.

Morning routine in the local jail

After the morning roll call, the inmates slowly start their day. Yet another day without goals, meaning, and filled with boredom.

The inmate on the lower bunk to the right begins his day by reading a little, while the one on the lower bunk to his left snoozes for a bit longer. After all, there’s nothing to get up for. And there will be plenty of time left to kill.

The inmate above them prepares for a wash, after which he will put on the same stale uniform he wore through the night.

He couldn’t make sense of what was happening. He shuffled forward apathetically, moving to the rhythm set by his guard.

Earlier that week, he had been pulled out of bed by a team of officers in the early morning and taken to the local jail, still in his bathrobe and barefoot. They claimed that compromising materials had been intercepted on his computer. He had no idea what was going on.

He had spent the rest of the week in the local jail, forced to sleep in a hall with about fifty other inmates. Because of that, he had barely slept in five days. He was terrified of what would happen to him.

He was just an ordinary citizen, completely unaccustomed to life in a violent environment. He was entirely out of his element. He wanted to go home. But his lawyer had failed to secure his release while awaiting trial. When he heard that he might be locked up for several years, he had a panic attack and started hyperventilating.

That had happened the day before. As a response to his episode, they had sedated him. And he was still feeling the effects today.

He didn’t even realize what was happening when the guards took him away earlier that day. That’s why he hadn’t put on shoes or socks, and now he stood before the public at his courtroom hearing in nothing but his shower shoes and bare feet.

"No! I don’t want to!" But unfortunately, this man had no say in the matter.

When the guards ordered him to step out of the transport van, he refused. The mere thought of appearing in public wearing his orange-and-white striped jail uniform was unbearable.

He resisted. But of course, he was no match for the brute force of the guards. As he struggled while being dragged out of the van, his plastic jail slides slipped off his feet. As a result, he had to cover the remaining distance to the courtroom barefoot.

That, of course, only deepened the humiliation. He lowered his head as he shuffled forward, flanked by his guards, his bare feet pressing against the cold ground. Yet he could still feel the burning stares of the spectators, piercing through every inch of his body wrapped in its pajama-like uniform.

Gaze into infinity. And that’s exactly how his perspective looked.

He stared blankly ahead as he shuffled through the courthouse, the sound of the chains around his legs and the slapping of his bare feet against his jail slides echoing through the halls.

It was his way of ignoring the many intrusive and disapproving stares of the onlookers, who watched him like a caged animal. He felt utterly humiliated.

Just a few weeks ago, he had been living a quiet life. Now, he had already spent some time locked up in the local jail, forced to wear this musty jail uniform. On the day of his transfer, he hadn’t been able to shower for three days, leaving his uniform saturated with the stench of his sweat and the sour-sweet odor of his groin and buttocks. Combined with the cheesy smell of his sweaty feet, it was enough to make the guards keep their distance.

But ‘luckily’ for him, later that day, he would be given a fresh outfit and allowed to take a shower. That, however, would only happen after an uncomfortable four-hour ride to his next destination: the medium-security state prison, where he would serve his seven-year sentence.

Out of shame, he didn’t dare to look up.

He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He had only ever wanted to help people!

This man was a doctor. Due to a medical error, he now carried the death of a patient on his conscience.

As a result, he was charged with manslaughter. At first, he couldn’t believe he would actually be imprisoned for it. But to avoid worse, he agreed to the plea bargain: five years in prison. Thanks to his clean criminal record, he was allowed to serve his sentence in a minimum-security federal prison camp.

He was relieved to avoid the violence of a regular prison. At the same time, he was terrified. The thought of living in confinement for five years, forced to follow orders constantly, nearly brought him to tears.

No privacy. Sleeping in a dormitory with ten other inmates, along with their sounds, smells, and various irritations.

He would also have to do menial labor beneath his qualifications: cleaning toilets, monotonous assembly line work, or kitchen tasks. As a doctor, he could be so much more useful. Unfortunately, he had lost his status and privileges for five years. For that time, he would just be a number, and in prison, they would constantly remind him of his miserable existence.

And then there was the uniform he’d have to wear. He hoped he would at least get a different outfit than the one he’d been wearing in the local jail for the past three months.

He felt humiliated—especially when compared to the guard walking next to him in his authoritative uniform, sturdy shoes, and the keys to unlock the chains binding his hands and feet. Compared to him, he felt like a vulnerable wretch, dressed in a sweaty orange jumpsuit—one he wore day and night, now reeking because he hadn’t been able to shower for three days—and flip-flops on his bare feet.

With every step he took, he heard the slapping sound of his bare feet hitting the plastic flip-flops, which had absorbed the odor of his smelly feet. He felt utterly miserable.

Behind the handsome face of this young man lies a dangerous character. He plotted a murder for money but was uncovered before he could carry out the crime.

Still, after visits from his lawyer in the local jail, he was convinced he would get away with it. After all, at the time of the crime, he was still a minor.

For the first hearing, he dressed himself neatly and presented an impeccable appearance. Who would want to punish him? But the judge decided to protect society from further harm at the hands of this young criminal.

At his next court appearance, the young criminal had to face the judge in his prison-issue pajamas, barefoot, with sweaty feet in foul-smelling plastic slides. In the local jail, he had been unable to care for his feet. His toenails had grown too long, and a fungal infection he contracted in the communal showers caused his feet to stink of sour, cheesy decay.

Realizing his chances were slipping away, the young inmate threatened the judge. But the shackles on his bare ankles kept him from standing up.

The verdict: 30 years in a maximum-security prison. As a disciplinary measure, he was sentenced to solitary confinement for the entirety of his sentence—30 years spent 24/7 in a small metal cell with no daylight, deprived of any form of recreation. He was forbidden books or other distractions, left with only himself and endless time.

Screaming, he was removed from the courtroom. Guards restrained him by his hands and sweaty feet and escorted him on a long drive to his next place of incarceration. During the transport, he threatened the guards and made repeated attempts to escape. When his attempts failed, he resorted to frustration tactics, urinating and defecating on himself as a form of torment for the guards.

Upon arriving at the prison—after a five-hour drive, half of it spent in unbearable stench—he was hosed down with cold water and given his uniform: yellow scrubs. The color symbolizes his high-profile status as an inmate. Shoes and socks were deemed unnecessary, as he was not allowed to leave his cell, except once every two weeks for a cold shower.

Even during his sentence, he continued to rebel. On one occasion, he stripped off his uniform and, when the guard entered his cell, pulled the sweat-soaked garment over the guard’s face before running naked down the hallway. Of course, he was quickly apprehended. Such disobedience was harshly punished. In such cases, the young prisoner was restrained naked to his bed for two weeks. His desperate escape attempts clearly demonstrated that solitary confinement was driving him to madness.

Take part in the poll and share your arguments in the comments or via PM. I'm curious about your opinions and reasoning!