Inmate #8213

Last thanksgiving I ate this, the same meal I eat every day, honestly I don't even know if I can call it a meal, every day I eat three meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner, as you can see from the pictures the meals look disgusting and they really are disgusting, I remember on my first day in prison I wanted to throw up because it tasted so bad, after a while you get used to it but that doesn't make it a reasonably good meal, they probably don't spend a lot to feed us and give us only the minimum to survive. Well, at least we're not forced to eat nutraloaf every day, I guess that's something to be grateful for.

Sadly no! Everyone has a flush toilet either in every cell or in the day room next to the cells! I have always wanted to have a cell like that, but sadly the requests are not very frequent and constructing one is not practical!

Everyone seems to expect a flushing toilet!

Makes it much easier to keep both the inmate and the cell clean through regular hose-downs 😈

Well anonymous, lets use your prison number 31804. 31804 you would first start by losing some of the few items you have been issued. Pillow cases and sheets are a good start. Laying on plastic coated mattresses sucks!

If you keep smarting off, you would lose your blanket.

What did you just call me 31804, a short little faggot with a Napolean Complex?

Now you lose your pillow and blanket.

You want to keep going 31804?

Now you are on food rations. Water and nutriloaf for 2 days.

One more word and you lose your uniform.

I hope you get the idea. Progressive discipline. Stuff is easy to remove and difficult to get back.

Hell yes. If your cellblock is well behaved, we allow a movie night. We might even provide stale popcorn!

There is usually a theme. Can you guess the common theme????

Have started vaping and saw your advice about hair cuts and think I will get a high fade but wondering if you had any other advice? Best clothing? Way to talk? Jewellery to have? Just need a lot of help really please

That would depend upon a lot of things. Like whether you’re suitable to be an Alpha or a beta. And no offence, I wager you’re a prime subject to be a beta chav. You’re a follower, not a leader. You copy what everyone else is doing like a sheep, adopting whatever is trendy at the moment among other lads. So yes, when you get your hair cut nice and brutally short, you will feel good despite how silly it might look. In fact, It looking stupid just means you’re closer to being a dumb chav. It’ll give you the confidence needed to indulge yourself further.

You’d need proper gear, and that usually means matching tracksuits and branded trainers. That and a thick gaudy chain around your neck. It’s even better if all your clothes are from the same brand, it just makes you look like a ‘propa lad’ to be decked out in Nike swooshes. Like a mannequin in a sports shop, a walking advertisement for cheaply made gear sold to gullible idiots. That’ll be you, like putting a sign above your head saying ‘dimwit’. Then everyone will regard you as a chav at a mere glance, will label you without a second thought. It’ll only become easier to talk like one now that everyone already thinks you are one. To play the role, to fit in. Emboldened to swear without remorse, just loading up every sentence with some vulgarity, slang or ‘fuck’. All that vocabulary is really just taking up unnecessary space in your head, why use a dozen words when you can just say ‘mate’ a dozen times a minute instead.

Thinking is something the old, smart version of you used to do, now you can act on instinct, without filter. Who cares what people will think. Sure, everyone will perceive you as a moron with no intelligence or manners, but you’ll find propa mates that understand your tiny thickheaded brain much better. Because other chavs will flock to you like catnip, seeing a beta who is so easily swayed and manipulated. You’re like a plaything for Alphas, for them to remould you into their image. To make them feel better about themselves while you feel like you belong.

You’ve probably heard this one before, but It was a typical Monday morning for me, travelling through town on the way to class. Exciting, huh. Half way there, I turn down a back alley and see a bunch of young chavvy lads in hi-vis vests tossing trash into the back of a garbage truck behind a building site. Being 24, they were probably a few years younger than me. Otherwise shirtless, their toned bodies were embarrassingly on display under their work gear. The ground is littered with broken wood, other materials and piles of garbage. By the logo on their chests they clearly work for the local council.

I stop and watch them, a slightly bemused expression on my face. I’m glad I managed to get into university, imagine spending your days doing basic labour and clearing trash. If only the dim delinquents had paid attention in school.

But maybe I stare for a little too long. One of the lads turns and spots me, sneering in my direction. They stood out from the group, taller and well built. He looked slightly older than me - maybe mid to late 20’s? I quickly look around awkwardly in a rather transparent way to save face. “Oi bellend, Somefink funny bruv?” His dull voice carries over the street to me.

“Pardon me, come again?” I respond, attempting to maintain composure.

“Think ya betteh ‘den us innit? Just cuz you go to uni?” He yells out. The other boys behind him laugh and jeer. For all my smarts, instead of thinking something witty I kind of just stammer, falling over my words.

“No sir, I’m waiting for my friend Timothy and I—I was just looking at the…the…”

“Hey up, Dans on the warpath now.” Another brainless chav shouts out from behind him, throwing a bin bag into the rear of the truck.

“Shut it Luke.” Dan the scally shouts back, walking over to me while I’m frozen like a deer in the headlights. He puts his grimy hand on my shoulder, the smell of intense body odour, flavoured smoke and the distinct stench of trash flows up my nose. It’s so strong it’s almost as though I can see a cloud surrounding him. I recoil, trying to pull away but his grip is too strong and my head is beginning to feel dizzy. He wipes his fingers across my blazer, leaving a slimy stain behind.

“Ugh. No…stay back. That’s pu—pungent.”

“Dat’s it, breathe it in. Gud shiz innit. ” Dan murmurs, leaning in closer. His musk was making me feel a bit more docile, the urgency of the situation seeming less important.

“Please desist. I…I need to make haste to university.” I slur, subdued.

“Nah. Fancy prick. Need’ta relax. Like dem. Just wotch Luke.” He whispers rubbing his hand over me. I just stare forward, watching the other lads continue working as the rank smell surrounds me. I see Luke guffaw and idly touch himself like an animal without second thought. Shameful as it was, there was something attractive about them, about their crass attitude. Although, they clearly have the intelligence and maturity of a horny donkey. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though… they didn’t seem to mind at least.

Just braying and rutting. A brain the size of a pea.

Unbeknownst to me, the smell is spreading across my body, consuming my clothes - warping them. My university blazer deforms, the soft material growing coarse. I look down and see a fluorescent yellow vest hanging loosely off my frame, the council logo proudly sporting my chest. The cool air brushes against my exposed bare chest. Further down, A dirty grey jogger is now sagging off my hips, accompanied by a sporty pair of trainers.

I picture myself working with Dan and the rest, scarily, I fit in perfectly. People would look at me and judge me as a failure, an utter dimwit. They’d snicker and point at me to their friends. Smile as they feel rightfully superior - just like I had done. And I wouldn’t care one iota. Satisfied with my stereotypical chav idiocy. With my skill-less job of hauling rubbish, a job that could be done by a monkey. With stinking all day long. Satisfied. Proud. Happy even. Gosh, why does that seem so appealing. So…propa. Ugh. This is damn wrong. That would be humiliating. I’m in my final year at uni, predicted for great results, a promising future. And yet….Fu-fuck That smell. That luv—horrible pungent smell.

“Pungent!” I manage to blurt out loud, to Dan’s obvious amusement. “Adjective. A—A sharp, strong taste or sm—smell.” I continue to ramble incoherently on the spot, unsure of what else to say.

It doesn’t stop there though. The scent has me in a strangle hold, clinging to every surface, suffocating my body. It heats up my chest, pushing against it. Fat burns away to lean muscle - seeming like I spend all day on my increasingly large sweaty feet. I seem to lose several years as my skin gets more youthful, looking fresh out of school at 20 years old. The intense smell evaporates away all my body hair, from head to toe. My weary face is slowly adjusting: dark circles fading, cheeks reddening, jaw sharpening. Mmmffuuck. A burst of pure energy flows through me. Tight abs poke between the gap in my bright vest. My rear pushes out against the tight fabric of my joggers as it fattens up along with my dick out front. I was looking more and more like just another basic chav, like the others. Nothing distinct, nothing special or unique. “Dats what I luv to see. Brill.” Dan remarks, observing my changes. I sway on the spot, adjusting to my new stature. The twig like arms at my sides bulk up slightly - but not too much, just ready for basic lifting. A strong funk growing under my pits. “Wot are yous?” He questions, running a hand across my bicep.

“A—a uni…a university s—st—student.” I stutter, unconvinced by my own assertion.

Aah! My neck loudly cracks, thickening below my chin as my vocal chords adjust. Tingling, my ears stretch and pull forward, sticking out embarrassingly far from my head. I couldn’t see it but my hair had receded to a harsh short crop - framing a distinctly more dim and thuggish looking face, mimicking the other lads hot chavvy style. Wait. Hot? F—uck me. My thoughts were getting all messed up. Loike, you know, hard ‘n shit.

“Dat’s it bruv, throw all that smart crap away, like the stinking trash it is. Right into the fucking bin. Cuz mate, yeh gonna be assigned to the bins. A simple bin boy.” Dan hands me an empty black bin bag, my fingers automatically grip at its opening. Now I really did look the part. “Go on, throw yeh smarts all in dere.” Heavy shiz innit?” What the…impossibly, the bag starts to fill up, I feel the weight begin to lightly pull on my arm. A looseness swells in my mind. No. Fuck that. I was going to university, was going to get a degree.

With a last ditch effort my common sense takes charge and attempts to break free, but instead Dan just laughs and pulls me closer. He grabs my head and buries it deep within his hairy armpit. I struggle for a few seconds before I succumb, swallowing his heady musk like an addict. Eventually he pulls away and stares at my blissed out, sweaty face. The bag in my hand felt so heavy and full as my brain continued to empty straight into it. Bit by bit.

“Wot was it you said, ‘pungent’? Bet you can’t even say dat word no more dunce.” P-un-junt. He was wrong…I didn’t even know what the word meant now. Not knowing made me feel so good downstairs. Pleasurable.

The rank smell didn’t seem too bad anymore either, I barely even noticed it as it radiated from every part of me. I sniff at myself, my cock instantly chubbing up in response. “Pee-uu, I fukin’ pong!” I stank like a propa lad. Tough as fuck; hard as balls. Eau de Chav. My stance changes, my back slacking as my neck leans forward. My mouth pulls into a gormless grin. Eyes distant. The trash bag bloats a bit more, inhibitions and manners dislodging free from my head. God, it wouldn’t stop. My tense arms relax and my free hand enters my pockets, pulling the crotch forward on my grubby, sagging jogger. I was gunna get a degree all right, a degree in deez nutz.

I thrust my groin out at Dan. “Huhu. At this rate B-boy, you’re gonna make the rest of us look like geniuses. Is wot you get for thinking you’re so much better. Not so much anymore, king moron.” King? Yeah, I’m the king, the MVP. OG. The GOAT. Number 1 trash clearer here boys!

Trash…wait, I…“Uhhh.” An unfamiliarly dense sound leaves my lips. The bin bag in my hand sagged low as it strained to contain all the complexities of my simplifying personality. The more the bag filled up, the better I felt. Man that’s wack. It was well exciting, straight up.

“Wot r yous, mate?” Dan asks again, bluntly - bearing down on me.

I had some recollection of having to be somewhere else… but where else would a illiterate chav like me need to be? I was lucky to get this job at all like. I needed to be a good worker grunt, doing what I’m told, following instructions. “A dumb stinking fukin’ tradie innit. A bin boy.” I answer in a typical working class accent, dull and thick. Expertly adopting the other lads rather basic and crude speech patterns. All my school knowledge was unburdened from my shrinking mind, loading up the bin bag, pulling the thin material taut. “Head’s as empty as dese bloody bins will be, for real. No cap. Huhaww.” I mumble, guffawing at my childish, witless joke like a dumb donkey.

Dan the man passes me a vape and I instinctively lift it to my cracked lips. He then removes his hand from my shoulder and slaps me on the back. I exhale a huge plume of smoke.

“Lit, rite? The real gud shiz. Anyway, enuff dossing off. Bin boy. Time to join the rest of the chav lads, don’t worry, dey’s also thought they were above dis. Luke used’ta be a fucking engineer. Now look at yous all. Shite for brains eh. Ha. Here, get stuck in mate.” He says pointing towards several wheelie bins where my ‘workie m8’s’ were, a clear smile on his face. “Throw all dat useless rubbish away.” Dan motions down at the overflowing bin bag i’m holding, my mind now cleared of needless garbage. The weight of my smarts, all that fukin’ wank knowledge is heavy in my hand. Gotta dump it innit. I follow him over to the rear of the garbage truck and hesitate as I look down. Maybe I shouldn’t? Man, ain’t this stuff like important or somefink? The bag strains for the final time as my cares and worries flow right into it. Ughh. Fooking hell. That’s much better like. Sorted. I toss the stuffed bag into the compactor, shuddering as my old identity and intellect joins the rest of the pile of stinking refuse and is subsequently crushed flat. Where it belonged.

Huhu. I was a rite thicko now. A thick as shit workie. Propa. “Ye, well wicked mate.”

“Good lad. Feels fucking cushy ey? Get to the rest now B-boy. The quicker we finish up ‘ere the quicker we can welcome you to the crew and my cock can get stuffed up dat tight arse.” Dan informs, patting my large rear end.

“Whaheyy!” The immature lads behind him tease, crudely thrusting their crotches into their hands. “Boiiii is gonna be dicked. Dicked good. Then he gonna be ‘bum boy’. Bet yous ‘ard just finking bout it like!” Luke teases, making a wanking motion with his hand while they all laugh, me included. Cheeky wanker. Bum boy. Fukin’ funny. They’s clever in all.

I was hard though, stiff as a door nail in fact. “Horny. True dat.” I openly admit. My dong obviously tenting for all to see as I get to work, quickly catching on to the job - not that it was very difficult. Just lifting crap and throwing it away, even I could do this. It was like I was made for this. The lads are ace too, shooting the shit with Luke - the big L, complaining bout last nights footie scores. Simple tasks and simple talk. I luv it.

Half an hour later and I was bent over inside a stinking porta potty, getting my once virgin hole stretched out by Dan’s smelly unwashed cock. And then being spun around to lick those moist nuts clean. I hear Luke and the other lads enthusiastically chatting outside as they wait their turn with the new company hire. My arse was just a bin to dump their cum into. Living up to my new nickname ‘Bum, the bin boy’.

___________

Eventually we finish up and the truck moves onto the next area, leaving us to run from house to house and unloading the bins left outside. I’m stopped by some trussed up guy in a blazer passing down the street. For some bizarre reason this ‘Timothy’ seems to think he knows me. Rambling on about coursework and other bollocks. That out of pocket shit pissed me off, he was making fun of me, thinking he was better because of some ‘degree’. I grab his shoulder, pass him a bin bag and tell him to fill it up, that his ‘ead needs a good emptying.

The inmate respectfully asks to pee. Either a guard will release them and escort them to a toilet or nearby bush, or the entire gang will be ordered to take a "piss break"!

Would a poorly behaved inmate ever be marched in front of other inmates in just their underwear and cuffs on the way to the bathroom?

As a general rule, at most events we use boxers. Prisons and jails use them and they are just synonymous with incarceration. I have a couple friends who love "tighty whities" but that is a good reason to make them wear boxers!

Boxers and handcuffs is pretty standard at all three roleplays I associate with!