Saturday 2 October 2010

Camp 177 by David Packer

In 1991 I was captured and swiftly shipped off to an internment camp for
experiment purposes. I don't remember exactly how it happened. All I know
is I was walking down the street when two cops came up to me and started
pushing me against a wall. I thought they were crazy and tried to pry
loose but I was unsucessful. Soon they had me down on the ground and
handcuffed, one officer's boot on my back, and I was completely helpless.
I felt a blow to my head with something hard and then I fainted.

When I came to I was still handcuffed, lying on my stomach on the floor
of a large cage with about fifteen other prisoners in the same condition.
It seemed we were on the back of a big military truck. Some of the
prisoners were moaning in pain - I suppose they had been treated the same
way I had. Three Officers in tall black boots and dark blue police
uniforms were seated comfortably outside the cage. When they heard the
prisoners moan, they stuck cattle prods between the bars of the cage and
gave the unruly men a few seconds of electricity. Soon everyone was
quiet, for fear of the Officers. The big, brutal guards laughed at our
helplessness and pointed at us with powerful, gloved hands.

The truck eventually came to a halt and the doors were opened. One guard
unlocked the cage and then there was a whirr of an engine and the cage
tilted so that all handcuffed prisoners fell out of the truck onto the
mud outside. The guards had been joined by colleagues and they stood in a
circle around the prisoners and laughed when we cried out in pain. I was
extremely frightened. Every Officer was at least six foot tall and
weighed two hundred pounds. All of them wore sunglasses and Motorcycle
Police uniforms with tall leather boots and massive gun belts. Some of
them were chewing on some tobacco and others were smoking cigars.

'Prisoners, strip!' an Officer ordered. We tried to get out of our
clothes with our hands still cuffed behind our backs. I was sinking into
the mud while I struggled to take off my pants. The mud was at least four
feet deep and soon I was up to my neck in it, like everyone else. The
Officers stood with their shiny black boots planted on a red carpet that
had been rolled out especially for them on firm ground.

All of the Officers were white men between the ages of 20 and 50. Some
looked like Italian decendants and others seemed to be of South American
or Spanish origin, but most of them looked like inbred, cornfed
Americans. They were tanned and looked very healthy and relaxed, as
opposed to us prisoners who were pale and sick and were wallowing in the
mud. 'Move it, pigs!' the Officers shouted and used their cattle prods or
nightsticks on us. I was shocked by a prod for about ten seconds and I
screamed and sank further into the mud, so that it filled my mouth
completely. The Officer laughed and told me to undress quicker.

I was completely humiliated the whole time. The Officers just stood in
their big boots and Police uniforms and maintained total control over us
without even breaking a sweat. After about half an hour we had managed to
rip our clothes off and stood naked on our knees beside the mud pool.

One big Officer, at least 250 pounds, stood in front of us, so close that
we couldn't se more than his boots and black breeches. He had a horsewhip
stuck down the shaft on his right boot. 'Look around, pigs' he said while
puffing on a big, expensive cigar. 'You will never leave this prison! You
will die in here, and it will be when an Officer decides to kill you!' We
looked at each other in horror. What was this place? What had we done to
deserve this?

'You will learn that every second of every day in here means suffering
and pain.' He blew out a cloud of smoke and tapped the cigar so that some
ashes fell on the first row of prisoners at his feet. 'And you can't
escape. The prison walls are 500 feet tall and 40 feet thick.' We looked
up at the towering prison walls that encased the prison yard. At the top
of the wall were big search lights and an impenetrable forest of razor
wire. There was hardly any daylight getting in. It would be impossible to
get out. 'You are here to work, and to serve us Officers.' He puffed on
the cigar. 'You thought you were men, but here you are nothing but
animals. You will spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week cowering in fear of
a uniformed Officer.' Someone among us prisoners had a breakdown. 'Oh
God! Help us!' he cried. The whole group of Officers laughed out loud.
The big one with the whip too. 'We are your Gods here! You will worship
us now!'

The prisoner who had shouted was dragged off by an Officer in a green
Highway Patrol uniform. Meanwhile it had started raining. The Officers
went indoors and left us prisoners kneeling in the mud. We had been
forbidden to move, and as it turned out the rain lasted nearly six hours.
When the rain stopped the Officers came out again and laughed at the
prisoners who were still kneeling obediently. From a door emerged the
prisoner who had shouted with the uniformed Officer walking before him.
When he came closer we could see a muzzle tightly sealed over his mouth
and locked in place with several different padlocks. 'He will wear this
for one month' the Officer said. 'If he's still alive then, I might take
it off.'

'Time for branding!' a Guard wearing a leather jacket and extra tall
motorcycle patrol boots said. The prisoners were hearded off one by one
to a room just inside the prison with some branding equipment. The same
burly black-haired Officer had leather police gauntlets on and stood
ready with the branding iron. The prisoners screamed out in agony as the
red hot branding iron marked their flesh. I nearly fainted from the pain
when the Officer gave me my prison number. On my forehead, on my chest
and on my back he branded me with the same code: S9873C98ZXDF87-987SX.
'Learn your number or die, pig' he said, then he grabbed me by the throat
and threw me in a heap with the other, already marked prisoners.

I could not believe that this would be my place for the rest of my life.
Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and the other prisoners seemed to look
the same. We were all pale and sick and near collapse. The big, macho
guards stood broad legged in their Highway Patrol uniforms, guarding us
the entire time and laughing at our misery. I felt like a bug next to
those enormous men with their bulging arms and beefy legs.

'What are you looking at, pig?' one of the guards barked to me. 'Are you
a faggot? I saw the way you stared at my crotch!' He grabbed me by my
bruised throat and carried me back to the Officer with the branding iron.
'Looks like they're faggots. Better cut their slimy little dicks and
balls off,' he told his partner with a snicker. They placed my naked,
trembling body in front of a metal slab and ordered me to stand still.
Their uniformed, massive bodies completely dominated me and I had no
other choice but to obey. The big Officer with the leather patrol jacket
and the tall motorcycle police boots took out a knife and heated it over
the flame until it was red hot. Then he slowly cut through my penis and
then proceeded with the testicles. The pain was almost too much for me
but the other Officer ordered me to be quiet.

They threw me on the floor and continued to castrate the other prisoners.
Soon there was a big group of naked, trembling prisoners squirming in
pain at their booted feet. The Officers shook hands and snickered at our
emasculated bodies. 'Hardons are only for real men, like us Officers, you
pigs!' they said. 'Your lives are going to be devoted to serving real men
from now on. Don't forget that!' They threw us out into the mud on the
prison yard and ordered us to stand at attention.

'Now us Real Men are going to bed. You swine don't deserve any sleep. You
will stand at attention, completely still the entire night. Eyes down,
heads bowed. We have cameras registering you. If anyone moves, they will
be shot in the morning. Have a nice night, eunucks!'

For fear of being shot I decided to be obedient. The pain where my penis
used to be told me that I should keep my eyes down and always obey these
Policemen, no matter what. It was almost impossible to stand still
because the agony was nearly killing me, but I had to try. The hours went
slowly by while the Officers slept comfortably in their beds. We stood
with our heads bowed and our legs deep in the mud on the prison
courtyard. Sometimes the night guards passed us and laughed at our
situation. After about two hours one prisoner fell in the mud, then
twenty minutes later another. After two hours, four people had fallen. My
legs were shaking and I was freezing but I had to obey the Officers'
orders or I would be shot.

Sometime in the mid morning, the Officers came sauntering out after
having eaten a big breakfast. 'Disobedient prisoners crawl over here!'
they ordered, pointing with gloved hands at those who had fallen in the
mud. I had managed to stay up, thankfully. The unfortunate prisoners
crawled through the mud towards the Officers' feet where they stopped.
Relaxed, the Officers took out their guns from their shiny leather
holsters and aimed them at the prisoners' feet, then shot them. I was
shocked! The Officers seemed pleased and put the guns back into their
leather holsters. 'Hope the rest of you had a pleasant night' one
Policeman said. 'It was the last one spent standing up!' The Officers
smiled and I sensed they meant something sinister. 'Line up for
amputation, pigs!' It was the Officer who had first spoken, with the whip
in his boot shaft. 'From now on you'll spend your time down in the shit,
where you belong!'

They forced us to form a line on all fours in the mud. One by one we were
made to crawl up to an Officer who had a sledgehammer in his gloved
hands. The Officer swung the sledge with his powerful arms and crushed
first the prisoner's arms, then its legs. 'Thank the Officer, faggot!'
they ordered, and the prisoner, barely alive, had to thank the Policeman
who had crippled him. Soon we all lay in a bloody heap in the mud and the
Officers seemed pleased. They stepped over to us and, one by one, hit us
on the head with the butt of their rifles. Soon all of us had fainted and
were powerless to resist.

When we woke up we were in a cage on the floor somewhere. I discovered to
my horror that I had been amputated while I was unconscious! My arms had
been cut off at the elbows, and my legs at the knees. The stumps were
crudely burnt to stop the bleeding. Before long, the sound of boots
filled the room and the cage was surrounded by big Officers. 'Look at you
now pigs! Hope you enjoy crawling around down there in the shit and mud!'
They opened the cage and let us out. 'Crawl on your stumps, pigs! We want
to see you squirm down there at our feet!'

The pain was horrible as I tried to walk on the stumps. The Officers
enjoyed seeing us struggle to obey them. 'Move! Outside! Time for a bit
of training!' The forced us to crawl outside again. 'Not the mud! That
would be too soft on your disgusting little stumps. Hit the asphalt!' Big
Police boots kicked us towards an enormous asphalt courtyard. It was
extremely painful to support my torso on my amputated limbs, but I had to
obey the Officers. The asphalt was hard and ripped at our burnt flesh as
we squirmed on all fours as ordered.

'We'll start off with a hundred laps! Now crawl, pigs!' The Policemen
took out their guns and fired them into the air. The prisoners squirmed
obediently on their stumps along the sides of the courtyard. 'Faster!'
One Officer kicked me in the ribs with a steel-toed Police boot. I
crawled faster, obediently. 'Not good enough, pig. Faster!' My stumps
were flapping like the wings of a bird as I squirmed along the wall.
'Even faster! If you don't obey you'll be shot, cunt!' I tried to obey
him. I crawled so fast I thought I would die. Drool was coming out of my
mouth. And I hadn't even completed one fifth of the first lap yet!

The Policemen sat down in comfortable chairs with their boots propped up
on soft pillows so as not to scratch the soles on the asphalt. One
Officer had a paper with all the prisoners' numbers. 'You!
S9873C98ZXDF87-987SX! Faster!' That was me! I did my best to obey the
order. My short little stumps hurt so much that pain was all I felt. The
Officers lit expensive cigars and relaxed as they watched us run. Even
though the prison walls were so high, hot sunlight managed to burn our
skin as we squirmed around on the ground. It was the most terrible thing
I had ever experienced.

'That's the first lap!' an Officer shouted after a few minutes. 'On the
next lap you'd better run faster you little pigs or you'll get a bullet
in the brains!' It seemed impossible, but all prisoners tried to crawl
even faster to obey the Police order. Some prisoners failed to obey
sufficiently and a few of the Officers stood up and loaded their guns.
The shots echoed between the prison walls, but luckily I was not one of
those who died. 'When you squirm past our feet, don't get any dust on our
Patrol boots, pigs!' they ordered, and we all tried not to stir up any
dust when we passed them.

The morning passed slowly and a few more prisoners were shot for
disobedience. One prisoner almost lost his balance, being unused to
crawling on four stumps. 'We told you not to get dirt on our boots,
prisoner! Now look at these specks of dust that soil my comfortable
leather boots here!'

The Officers stood up and took out their guns again, then shot him one
time in each stump, arms and legs. 'Now start squirming again. From the
start - one hundred laps!' The prisoner now had no stumps to crawl on
either. On his bare belly he inched forward on the dirty ground. The rest
of us had crawled at least eighteen laps, but that unfortunate inmate had
to start all over agan, and with no limbs!

Despite the pain and the heat, the morning passed and it was almost noon.
I had completed twenty-one laps without any mishap, but I felt the
Officers were watching me - watching us all - for any signs of slowing
down. 'Time for a nice long lunch. You subhumans keep crawling! A mere
hundred laps won't be enough to teach you your place, but it's a start!'
The Officers trailed off and left us with a few Guards and the scorching,
unforgiving sun. The limbless prisoner now had scraped his body so bad he
left a blood trail around the whole courtyard. All because he got dust on
an Officer's boots. I told myself I had to avoid that at all costs!

I lost track of time and space. All I did was crawl. I heard the Officers
returning from their lunch, but I kept crawling at the same speed so as
not to enrage them. 'You've been slacking during lunchtime, huh? You'd
all better be crawling faster if you want to live!' The Policemen took
their place in the comfortable chairs again with their Patrol boots
propped up on the soft pillows. Now they had plenty of bottles of water
and beer to cool themselves if they felt too hot. All of them wore
mirrored sunglasses to shield them from the sun.

Noon turned to afternoon and then early evening. The uniformed Officers
would not let us slow down even a bit. Two more prisoners had been shot,
but the rest of us were crawling obediently on the hard asphalt as
ordered. Eventually, to my surprise, when the sun had set and it was
close to midnight, it seemed I had managed the one hundred laps, together
with a few others. 'Halt!' one Officer shouted. 'That's one hundred laps.
Time for you pigs to get some rest.' We couldn't believe our ears. Would
we really get to rest? And something to drink maybe?

'All prisoners out onto the middle of the courtyard!' They kicked us
toward the center and made us stop there. 'Now you will stand at
attention again - on your stumps! Heads bowed, eyes down!'

I took my place, nearly dead from exhaustion. 'Head bowed lower, pig!' an
Officer barked and stomped the back of my head with his motorcycle patrol
boot. I hit the asphalt with a hard bang and everything started spinning
even more, but I managed to stay on the stumps and keep my head even
lower. The Officer waited, his booted foot right under my face, until he
was satisfied I had the right position. From the corner of my eye I saw
the prisoner who had been shot in the limbs still crawling on his belly.
He was only on his thirty-fourth lap!

'You pansies remain in that position until morning. Time for the real men
to relax after a hard day's work!' The Officers snickered and swaggered
off to their comfortable quarters. Amazingly, I managed to fall asleep,
or half asleep, in the ordered position. I suppose I might as well have
collapsed without knowing it, but for some reason my body remained
upright even when my mind was elsewhere. In my feverish dreams I saw only
pictures of big men in Highway Patrol uniforms and tall, shiny leather
boots on their big feet.

'Pigs, wake up!' a dark voice barked. The Officers were back. This time
there were even more of them, in newly ironed and pressed uniform shirts
and perfectly creased uniform breeches, and freshly oiled leather belts
and holsters with recently loaded guns. 'How did you like your first day
as legless little worms? From now on it'll get even better!' Every
prisoner stood at rigid attention, on all fours, when hearing the
commanding voice of an Officer. Beads of sweat formed on our foreheads.

The Officer who had gotten some dust on his boots sauntered over to the
still squirming torso that used to be a prisoner. He placed one size 15
EE boot on either side of the prisoner's bloody face. If there had been
any dust on the giant Police boots, it was gone now. 'Halt!' the Officer
ordered. The bloody prisoner obeyed. 'Look at my boots, pig!' the Officer
ordered. Slowly, the inmate raised his thrashed face a little and fixed
his eyes on the gleaming leather boots under his nose. 'I have had these
boots polished during the night because of your insolence! What lap are
you on, swine?'

The prisoner could hardly speak, and when he did, bubbles of blood and
saliva formed at his parched lips. 'Ninety-six, Sir' he croaked. The
towering Officer thought about this for a moment, then took out a cigar
from one of the pockets on his belt. He lit it and tapped some still-
glowing ashes onto the blood soaked body at his feet. 'Start over and do
a hundred more. Now!' He snapped his powerful fingers and then stepped
aside. The prisoner's body was trembling violently for some reason, then
it started moving forward again. The Officer looked at the squirming
animal and shook his head. Then he took the gun out of his leather
holster and aimed it at the struggling creature. He fired and placed one
bullet in the prisoner's right buttock. Then fired again and hit the
left. The Officers laughed as the now even less human prisoner tried to
squirm across the asphalt.

'Follow me, gimps!' another Officer ordered the rest of us, and we
crawled behind his sturdy size 14 boots towards the muddy field again.
There was an old barrel with sewage water in it, and one of the other
Officers placed his foot on the side and pushed it over. Old yellow water
and a few dozen cigar butts floated out into the mud and formed a little
pool. 'Breakfast, you hogs. Go ahead and drink!' The sight of water, even
disgusting water like this, made us nearly crazy. We all wallowed in the
mud, trying to drink the filthy liquid. 'You really are pigs!' one
Policeman smiled. 'Grunt like pigs, you little animals!' Immediately we
obeyed the order, trying to sound like pigs. This made the Police
Officers laugh. They stood on a platform raised above the mud and covered
by soft carpet so that their boots would not get dirty.

I gulped down the filthy water as best I could, but I had not swallowed
more than three small gulps when the Policemen ordered us to stop.
'That's enough you greedy assholes! Stand at attention!' None of us had
gotten nearly enough to drink! My lips and tongue were still like
sandpaper. 'Let's get you swine collared now. Get your filthy bodies out
of the mud! Heel!' The Officers slapped their horsewhips against the
shafts of their boots and we obediently crawled towards them, away from
the delicious sewage water. Each Officer had a prisoner at his right
foot, and then they marched us over to a shack near the corner of the
prison walls.

'Put you neck on the anvil, asswipe!' I was ordered. I crawled over to a
big anvil and placed my neck on the cold iron. The Officer put his size
13 E boot on my throat and held it there while selecting from a large
number of steel collars that hung on a rack. He took his time, taking a
few down then putting them up again. Eventually he chose a heavy collar,
about three inches high and half an inch thick. It had sixteen sharpened
spikes on the inside, and there were sturdy steel rings both on the front
side and backside for fastening leashes. He chose a hammer, then took his
boot off my throat. 'Head up!' he barked. I lifted my head and he placed
the open collar under my neck. Then he stomped the back of my head with
his foot, jamming the spikes into my throat. With a powerful gloved hand
he closed the collar and then hammered it in place with massive blows.

Each blow made the spikes dig further into the flesh of my neck until I
was bleeding all around. The heavy steel collar was now permanently
fastened around my neck, and the spikes constantly digging into my flesh.
The Officer grabbed the ring on the back of the collar with a gloved
finger and pulled it. In agony I moved my whole body in order to follow
his hand. The spikes caused an intense, lasting pain every second he
pulled on the collar. I had to completely obey him and follow his every
hand move or the pain would shoot through my body like lightning.

When the Policeman was convinced that the collar was satisfying, the next
Officer moved in, and so on until all prisoners were collared. I stood at
attention on all four stumps, as ordered, and discovered how heavy and
painful the steel collar was even without anyone tugging on it. When all
prisoners were assembled the Officers came out of the shack with heavy
duty leather leashes and attached them to our collars. 'Keep a straight
leash! No slack and no pull or you will be shot!' The Officers wandered
off and we all had to follow their massive bodies on our amputated
stumps. The Policeman holding my leash was swinging his muscular arm back
and forth as he walked and I had to sprint forward and then slow down
constantly to keep the leash straight without pull or slack.

In order to crawl as ordered, I had to fix my eyes on the massive,
muscular body of the Officer to see how he moved - his powerful legs, the
heavy leather belt with his loaded gun all ready in its holster, his big,
slightly hairy arms coming out of his short sleeved gray uniform shirt,
and the police gloves on his strong hands. And here was I, castrated,
amputated and starved. Just a worm following this powerful Officer on my
short stumps. And now it was afternoon, just the second day of my life
sentence here at Camp 177.

We passed the asphalt courtyard where the punished prisoner was still
edging forward. The punishing Officer stepped out of the group and headed
over to the crawling heap. Again he placed a size 15 EE boot in front of
the inmate's face and ordered a halt. 'What lap are you on, swine?'

The prisoner's voice was barely audible. 'Twelve, Sir...' He seemed
barely alive. The Police Officer seemed pleased. 'Crawl over to that
door. Now.' The prisoner was flopping forward on his limbless body
towards the door of a low storage building. He was surprisingly fast,
pehaps because the Officer walked in front of him. The Police Officer
opened the door and disappeared inside, then came out with a thirty-pound
sack of fertilizer. He dropped it on the prisoner's back with a heavy
thud, nearly crushing the inmate in the process. 'You like dirt enough to
spread it all over my boots - well now you've got your own sack of shit
to carry!' He kicked the prisoner in the head. 'You were on your first
lap. There's nintey-nine more. Move!'

I caught a glimpse of the poor prisoner trying to squirm, then I had to
turn my eyes back to the Officer holding my leash. They took us to a
concrete building with no windows, just a door. Inside was just a
staircase leading down, and we were taken two floors down into the
basement. A heavy steel door with locks on the outside was opened, and
behind it was a narrow corridor leading forward. We passed several more
security doors, then turned left into a small room with cages in it. The
Officers unhooked the leather leashes from our collars and kicked us one
by one into each of the steel boxes. They were so small that we had to
bow our heads as much as possible to fit in. Just a few square feet, and
maybe twenty inches high. The cage door had bars covered in many layers
of sharp barbed wire, and when the Policemen closed the doors, the spikes
cut into our flesh. There were solid security doors, too, but they were
open at the moment.

'Welcome to your new home, maggots. Hope you enjoy these prison cells
because you'll be spending a lot of time down here!' The Police Officers
laughed and kicked some of the cages with their boots. Then they put down
the outer steel door on each cage, sealing us in completely. There were
five separate locks on each cage door and no chance of ever getting out
because the Officers carried the keys in their big black leather belts.
The sound of the Officers' boots faded and I was left in total darkness
and isolation, my cheek pressed against the barbed wire. I immediately
fell asleep.

I don't know how long I had been in the cage when it suddenly opened with
a big bang. An Officer in a deep blue Motorcycle Patrol uniform leaned
down and hooked a leash to my collar, then pulled me out with full force.
It was a Policeman in his forties, chewing on gum. He wore tight breeches
with a light blue stripe along each leg. He lifted my entire body by the
leash with one powerful hand and looked at me. The pain from the spikes
inside the collar nearly made me faint. Then he dropped me and watched me
fall on the concrete floor at his booted feet. He hooked the short leash
to his leather belt and snapped his fingers. 'Heel!' he ordered. On my
aching stumps I cowered next to his right boot, obediently. There was a
powerful smell of leather and boot polish.

The Officer walked and I followed at his right foot. He took me up the
stairs and outside to the asphalt courtyard again. There was some blood
on the ground but no sign of the limbless prisoner who had been punished.
'You pigs make a mess wherever you go,' the Police Officer said. 'Throat
under my bootheel, now.' He lifted his right leather boot slightly and I
quickly threw mysef flat on the ground and placed my neck under his
bootheel. He stomped his foot down with full force, choking me
completely. He unhooked the leash from my collar and rolled it up. 'You
will scrub this courtyard spotless. Any sign of blood or dirt and you
will be shot.' He took his foot off my neck and walked off.

There was a bucket half filled with some dirty water and a small rag that
looked like a ripped up shirt - maybe one of the prisoners'. I took the
rag in my mouth and dropped it in the bucket, then had to stick my head
in and get it out again. I dropped the wet rag on the asphalt, then
started wiping it, with some difficulty. It was extremely hard to work
like this, but I had no hands so it was the only way! I wanted to drink
the water but I knew I would be shot if I did, so I had to restrain
myself.

After a few hours the Officer came back. I heard his heavy steps
approaching but I was afraid to look up. 'It's not going so fast, is it
boy?' He stood next to me for a minute and watched me scrub the asphalt,
then suddenly kicked me hard in the ribs so that I flipped once in the
air and landed on my back. Then he placed his foot on my chest and leaned
down with his nightstick tightly gripped in a gloved hand. 'This
courtyard had better shine by tomorrow, worm! We're taking our Police
Motorcycles out to get some sunshine, and the ground had better reflect
our images when we do!' He swatted the nightstick on the side of my
mouth, crushing one of my teeth. Then he took his foot off me again and
put the nightstick back in his belt and left. I threw myself back on the
cleaning rag and began scrubbing even harder.

Sometime late that night I finished scrubbing the asphalt. The Officer
wasn't pleased but he let me live. He picked up the empty bucket and hit
me over the head with it several times until I lay still in a heap at his
feet. Then he took the leash from his belt again and attached it to my
collar and ordered me to heel. He dragged me so hard the spikes
threatened to rip my throat apart and I followed as obedeiently as I
could. I was taken through the entire prison towards a large building
with big garage doors on it. Inside stood ten or twenty Police Harley
Davidson Patrol Motorcycles lined up. The room smelled of gasoline, oil,
and steel. Officers were strolling around, fiddling with their bikes.

'Now you've cleaned the parade ground, let's see some gloss on those
tires. Down!' He stomped me on the back, forcing me to lie on my belly on
the garage floor. He grabbed an adjustable workbench and rolled it over
in front of me. Then he lowered it all the way to the floor. 'Put your
head in the vise, turd!' He snapped his fingers, and I had to inch
forward and place my head in the powerful vise. With a gloved hand he
tightened it until I screamed out in pain and horror. 'Quiet, pig.' He
tightened it quite a bit more until my skull was nearly crushed and I lay
helpless with my face at floor level.

Then he walked over to a big Police Harley Davidson and fastened his
gloves a little. He lit a cigar and then sank down on the bike - his butt
slowly relaxing on the shiny padded leather seat of the enormous
motorcycle. He started the bike with a roar, then put it in gear with his
boot and drove towards my helpless head. The enormous Police Motorcycle
closed in on me as tears ran down my cheeks. With expert control of the
powerful machine between his muscular legs, he drove the bike until the
front tire was nearly crushing my face, then he stopped and parked it
there. My face was crushed against the dirty rubber and my mouth was
filling with something that tasted like horse manure that had attached
itself to the tire.

He stepped off the bike and took off his gloves. 'Now lick it clean!' The
Officer took one step over my head and then leaned down and set the wheel
spinning with his hand. The Police Motorcycle was parked tilted, so that
the front wheel was free for spinning. As it did, my face was nearly torn
apart by the tracks from the heavy rubber tire. Eventually it stopped and
I could start licking it. My mouth filled with horse manure, mud, dust,
dog shit and tarmac. The enormous wheel was so dirty that my stomach
seemed full after just a minute. I had to use my tongue to try and rotate
the wheel to reach more dirt. I could not believe this was just one of
the first days in this hell! I cried silently as I licked the dirt off
the Police Motorcycle tire. Maybe it would be better to be dead!

After two hours I had licked both tires clean of mud, but before I had a
chance to breathe, the next Officer drove his bike over and placed it in
the same way and I had to start all over again. By now my mouth was so
sore that every time I stretched my tongue out, flashes of pain shot
through my body. The Policeman was sitting relaxed on his motorcycle
while I cleaned the tire, and he was reading a magazine. After him came
another Officer with a new bike, and then another. After ten hours I was
ready to die from exhaustion.

Thankfully, I was released - a heavyset, patrol uniformed Guard with a
round face and shaved head released the vise and my head fell down with a
hard thud. 'In position behind my feet, maggot!' he ordered, and I
struggled to take my place at his police shoes as instructed. He unhooked
a leash from his belt and attached it to the collar, then dragged me out
of the garage. I was taken to a part of the prison where I had never been
before. The place was brimming with activity, with normal, two legged
prisoners hauling big logs of wood back and forth. The Officer ordered me
to take my place in front of a big cart where one other inmate was
already chained, then he attached me securely by my steel collar with two
heavy padlocks.

'Prison activities - you're gonna be hauling wood for making boot blocks.
We wanna make sure our patrol boots keep their shape even when they're
off our feet!' He cracked a whip and directed us to a big pile of logs. A
prisoner wearing an orange jumpsuit loaded log after log onto the cart
until it was completely and fully stacked. 'Pigs, the wood goes in the
big pile all the way on the other side there! Move!' He had taken out his
cattle prod and stuck it between my ribs, keeping it firmly in place
there on medium setting until we had gotten the cart rolling. Then he
took it off and hung it back on his belt, choosing to kick me with his
steel-capped shoes instead.

'Faster, assholes! Faster!' His big foot hit me in the same spot every
time, increasing the pain tenfold with each kick. We both tried to move
faster on our sore stumps, but the enormous cart was so heavy it seemed
impossible. The Officer kicked me even harder for a few minutes until I
could hear my ribs crack, then changed position and started whipping our
backs with his horsewhip. It split the air before it ripped deep cuts on
both our backs. His powerful arm kept the whip going and I felt blood
dripping off me and into the mud. 'That's better. Keep up this speed or
I'll have you both gutted!' He hung the whip back on his belt, then
stepped up and sat on the cart so that we had to pull his big body also.

He forced us to take the long way around the whole work site. At the
other side, another prisoner unloaded the cart, and the Officer
supervised us while keeping his hand on his gun. 'You look tired, swine!'
he told me. 'Maybe you need some inspiration to help you move faster?' I
heard him walk over to the big pile of wood, and he came back with a big,
knotty stick. It was about two feet long and an inch and a half thick,
with splinters and sharp thorns all over it. 'Stick your ham up, pig!'
the Officer ordered while inspecting the stick in his gloved hand. I
tried to stand on the very tips of my back stumps to obey the order. The
Officer then jammed the stick into my ass, inch by inch, until only a
little bit of it was sticking out. The thorns were ripping at my insides
like red hot glowing needles and I wanted to scream out loud.

The Officer demanded I move faster this time, and I had to use all my
force to pull the cart back to the new logs again. The other Guards
laughed when they saw me struggling with the stick inside of me. For the
rest of the day I had to struggle twice as hard to manage to keep up the
same speed with the pain of the rough thorns ripping at my guts from
inside!

At the end of the day the prisoners were taken back to their cages, but I
was ordered to stay along with three other inmates. 'You've been slacking
off all day, pigs!' we were told by a group of Motor Patrol Officers.
They stood broad legged, wearing dark green motorcycle uniforms in front
of our trembling bodies. 'Looks like you need a bit of punishment
exercise. Hit the asphalt, now!'

They kicked us to the big courtyard again. 'A hundred laps. Heads bowed
at all times. Move!' They watched us scuttle on our stumps on the
unforgiving tarmac. 'Heads down lower! Move faster!' We lowered our heads
and tried to crawl faster. I still had the stick inside me and it was
torturing me relentlessly. 'You! Faster!' an Officer ordered me. I was a
few yards behind the other two prisoners who didn't have anything tearing
at their insides. The Officer walked up to me and stomped me to the
ground with his size 14 E Motor Patrol boot on my neck. 'Looks like you
can't obey orders, worm!' He grabbed some steel shackles from his belt
and put them on my rear stumps. Each steel cuff was fastened in place
with tight screws, nearly crushing my already sore limbs. The chain
between the cuffs was only about a foot long, and when he took his heel
off my neck I discovered I could only take miniature steps.

'Now get going. From the start, head bowed!' He kicked me hard in the
ribs and walked over to the other Motor Officers. I started strutting
forward on my even more restricted limbs, and my rear stumps tightly
shackled. The Officers watched me and laughed as I tried to keep up with
the other prisoners. Then they headed for the Policemen's Quarters for
relaxation, their knee-high black boots gleaming in the moonlight as they
walked. I cried silently as I jerkily hopped forward on my amputated
limbs.

After a few hours the Officer with the shackles came back with one of his
colleagues. They seemed happy and drunk. 'You! Stickboy! Heel!' he
ordered and snapped his fingers. As the other inmates continued doing
their laps, I jerked myself over to the big Policemen on the other side
of the courtyard. 'What lap are you on, turd?' he demanded. I tried to
reply even though I was panting hard. 'E-eleven, Sir...' My answer earned
me a kick in the ribs. 'Still slacking off, eunuch?' He flipped me over
with the toe of his boot, then put his foot on my chest and attached
another set of shackles, this time to my arm stumps. This chain was even
shorter, just a few inches. Then he stood up and kicked my body so hard
it rolled over several times.

'Back doing laps, you dickless bitch! A hundred laps, head bowed lower!'
The other prisoners were on their thirty-second lap but I had to start
all over again. My arm stumps were so tightly shackled I had to hop
forward like a rabbit instead of scuttling on all fours like before. It
was horribly exhausting, much to the enjoyment of the Officers. 'Faster,
maggot! Head down lower!' They picked up rocks from the side of the
courtyard and threw them at me for fun. Everytime a rock hit me it struck
up a big wound and knocked me over, so I had to get up again.

Sometime in the late morning I had done all hundred laps. I was ordered
to stand at attention, together with the other prisoners who had long
since finished their punishment. We stood still in the middle of the
courtyard while the sun scorched our beaten skin. Noon and afternoon
passed and our bodies were trembling from exhaustion and the heat under
the relentless sun. One muscular Officer in a blue patrol uniform passed
us and watched our agony with a smile. He was carrying a large blue gym
bag on his shoulder. 'You thirsty, girls?' he said. Our heads still
bowed, we answered him: 'Sir, yes, Sir...' our voices cracking in the
heat. The Officer put down his gym bag, opened it and took out a pair of
big black hightop sneakers. He stood in front of us and turned the
hightops upside down, and a trickle of sweat began pouring out of the
enormous gym shoes and onto the asphalt before our faces. 'You can eat
that off the ground if you wanna survive,' he said. Then he put his
workout sneakers back in the gym bag and watched us lick the sweat off
the ground like pigs. He snickered to himself, then took his police gym
bag and left us in the sun.

Late in the evening we were taken off the courtyard and into a prison
building. The Officer who held me by the leash had laughed out loud when
he saw the shackles and the twigs sticking out from my behind, and had
left them like that. It was a young, round faced man with brown hair and
stubble on his cheeks. He wore dark blue uniform pants with light blue
stripes along the sides and regular leather patrol shoes on his wide
feet. 'I need my boots cleaned,' he said, casually. 'Move!'

I was dragged through a corridor and told to wait outside a door. When
the Officer went inside I caught a glimpse of a locker room with hundreds
of pairs of uniforms, riot gear, boots and guns. He came back out with a
pair of black leather motorcycle patrol boots, muddy all over.

There was a row of small cells in the other end of the building. The
Officer grabbed one of the rough brown sacks hanging on the wall. He
lifted me up and stuffed me inside with only my head left outside. Then
he strapped three wide leather straps around my throat and fastened them
tightly with three different padlocks. Now I was just a little bundle on
the floor. He gave me a violent kick and I flew inside one of the cells
and hit the wall. Then he took out a soft blue pillow with a Police logo
on it and placed it in the little cell in front of me. He put his size 14
EEE Police Motorcycle boots carefully on the soft pillow before my face.
Then he threw in a small Q-tip and slammed the door shut.

'You've got the tools, now start cleaning my boots, worm! Don't touch the
leather with your dirty mouth!' He lit a cigar and walked away, leaving
me to work on his boots. I squirmed forward and managed to fetch the Q-
tip off the ground with my lips. Holding it nervously in my mouth, I
began to carefully polish the leather of the Officer's size 14 boots. The
cell reeked of leather and foot sweat from the well-worn boots. I had to
twist my neck in impossible ways to clean the leather creases where the
Police boots had formed after the Officer's big feet. The enormous
leather boots completely dominated the whole cell, and I felt really
small in their presence. Even my shackled stumps were useless now that I
was strapped inside a sack. My body ached and I sobbed silently, but I
continued to obediently shine the Patrol boots that rested comfortably on
the pillow.

The next morning I had just managed to clean the boots when the Officer
returned. He inspected the boots thoroughly for any signs of dust or mud,
and made sure he could see his face perfectly reflected in the black
leather. 'I won't shoot you, pig, but you'll have to do better next
time!' he said. Then he dragged me out of the cell, put his foot on my
head while unlocking the padlocks, and yanked me out of the sack and onto
the concrete floor. I was forced outside and kicked up against the wall.
'On your leg stumps! Stand up, pussy boy!' He made me hold my arm stumps
out and placed the pillow on them, then put the newly cleaned Police
boots on the pillow. 'I'll be wanting these tonight. Until then you'll
hold them completely still on your little disgusting stumps. Don't even
blink, shithead!' He watched me for a moment, then took his whip and
swatted my face fifteen or twenty times. 'Lower your head in the presence
of my boots, pig!'

When I was in the right position he left, and I was wailing quietly in
fear of dropping the boots. My arm stumps trembled under the heavy weight
of the leather boots and I wasn't sure I could stand like this until
evening! Other Officers passed me and smiled at my predicament. 'You've
found your place, boot stool!' they joked. One of them poked me with his
big foot to see if I would fall over, but I managed to remain standing
with the boots balanced upright. Beads of sweat were running down my
bruised face as the hours slowly ticked away.

After many more hours and countless near-collapses the Officer returned
and grabbed his boots. He dragged me inside, behind him on the leash, to
a rec room with some magazines, a fridge and a few comfortable chairs. He
eased his muscular body into one of the chairs, kicked off his patrol
shoes, and slowly pulled the motorcycle boots onto his feet. 'Inmate, at
my front! Hold the pillow up!' he ordered. I sat on my back stumps and
held the soft pillow on my outstretched limbs in front of the seated
Officer. He lifted his muscular legs and put his big size 14 EEE feet up
on the pillow one by one in front of my face. 'If you move, you die!' was
all he said. Then he picked up a SWAT magazine and opened a beer and
relaxed.

With clenched teeth, I struggled to hold still. The Officer's enormous
feet completely blocked my vision and I heard the leather in his boots
creak as he moved his toes a little inside. Sometimes he shifted his
legs, nearly kicking me to the ground in the process. But I managed
somehow to remain in the ordered position and obediently function as a
footstool for the Policeman. After about an hour he had finished his beer
and put the magazine aside. Instead, he took up a remote control and
turned on the TV, relaxing even more in the comfortable chair. A few
other Officers came into the room and they talked to each other for a
while as if I wasn't even there.

After another hour and a half, the Officer took his big feet off me and
stood up. 'Neck under my heel!' he ordered and I squirmed in place under
his foot. He put his boot down, choking me, while attaching the leash to
the collar again. He took his foot off me and kicked me in the face.
'Move, you swine! To the cages!' He continued to kick me in front of him
with full force until the leash was tightly stretched and my throat was
punctured by the spikes in the collar. Still shackled, I wobbled forward
as fast as I could and he led me through the camp back down to the cages.
Some cages had prisoners collapsed inside of them and he kicked me into
one of the empty ones. The cage door was closed and the barbed wire once
again ripped at my face as my body contorted to fit in the small space. I
fell asleep within ten seconds.

The next day a bunch of us were dragged off by a group of Officers
wearing beige Highway Patrol uniforms. They herded us towards the
Officers' quarters and we all trembled in fear at the sight of the
imposing building. 'Don't worry, pigs, you won't set your dirty stumps
inside our quarters!'

They took us around back and down a set of stairs to the basement. Deep
inside, under the building, we stopped. 'Time for toilet duty,' they
said, then each Officer lifted us easily by the collar. I was dangling
helplessly, a mere worm in front of the massive Policeman who held me in
his gloved hand. There were meat hooks fixed at mid-heigth on the wall
and the Officers carried us over there and hung us there, the steel ring
on the back of the collar fitting perfectly on the hook.

The Officers grabbed some thick rubber tubes that came down from the
ceiling and made us open our mouths. 'You still got your teeth, maggot?'
an Officer asked me, then took out his nightstick and punched me in the
face with it. He struck me again and again. My face was just a mangled
mess.

'Don't drip on the floor, pig. Swallow your teeth. You won't need them!'
I tried to obey, and then he took the three inch thick rubber tube and
jammed it down my throat. I could hardly breathe! The tube filled my
mouth and throat completely. The Officers laughed at our red faces. 'Each
tube is connected to four Officers' toilets and one Guardroom urinal.
These are our private toilets so you're getting some exclusive shit.
Remember that, you worms!'

They all took out their nightsticks and tightened their gloves. 'You'll
be glad to eat the shit of Real Men. Anyone vomits or tries to spit it
out and you die. Got it?!' Then they hit us with full force on the sides,
in our ribs, and on the leg stumps with their nightsticks. My shackle
chains rattled as my body swung back and forth by the Officer's powerful
blows. The light gleamed on the Police patch of his bulging, powerful arm
as he lifted the nightstick over and over again and hit my helpless body.
Eventually they stopped and put their nightsticks back in their belts. On
the wall next to the steel exit door was a red switch, and one of the
Policemen pressed it with his gloved hand as he passed.

Suddenly the locks opened and all the stored urine and shit came rushing
through the tubes with full force. I thought my body would explode as a
flood of old piss forced its way down my throat. Then I felt a thick mass
of turds forcing themselves into my mouth. Big, heavy logs of shit
pressed themselves down my throat and I nearly choked. There was shit
coming out of my nose, and I thought some came out through my eyes as
well. I tried to bend my head up so that the vile brown mass would drip
back into my mouth, because who knew what they'd do if I soiled the
floor?

After half an hour or so the first attack had died down a little. But not
for more than a minute. Then came about twenty heavy, solid turds through
my tube and nearly blew my head off! I felt the shit pressing into every
cavity of my skull and there were big chunks of it pouring out of my
nose. I twitched helplessly and feebly attempted again not to let
anything fall on the ground. My stomach had previously been totally
empty. Now it was swelling up like a balloon. No sooner had I swallowed
all the shit than there was another rush through the pipe. This time
mostly piss, but there were several cigar butts and something that
scraped my throat, perhaps toenail clippings. Then came about thirty even
bigger turds, violently forcing themselves into my mouth. I swallowed
obediently.

The next morning the Officers returned. They didn't switch off the pipes
but watched us struggle with the shit for a few minutes. 'This shackled
one has some wet spots under it on the floor,' one of them said. 'The
other two are clean - we'll take them up.' The other prisoners were taken
out of the room, but I was left hanging. 'You don't like our shit, do
you?' the Policeman said, broad-legged in front of me with his gloved
hand fingering his gun. 'You're full of shit, and I'm gonna make sure it
stays that way!' He walked closer to me, inspecting my puny body. 'Is
that shit coming out of your eyes?' he asked. Then he shook his head with
a smile.

From his belt he unhooked a small black device. 'See this? It's an
amazing portable sewing machine. Now let's seal you up, swine!' He pulled
the tube out of my mouth and ordered me to press my lips together. Then
he put the machine to my face and let the needle work its way through my
flesh, slowly but steadily. I wanted to scream, but my lips were already
sealed. After about a minute my lips were sewn together with two layers
of extra strong thread. 'Now your eyes. Hold still, prisoner!' I tried to
scream, but there was nothing I could do. The needle punctured my eyelid
again and again as it tightly sealed my eye shut with double stitching.
Then he moved to the other eye, and within a minute I was both blind and
mute. I had nothing between my legs anymore and there was a thick branch
stuck up my behind, so my nose was the only hole left.

I was breathing hard through my nostrils. I heard him take out his whip,
and then he gave me a few hard lashes across the face, drawing deep
wounds in my flesh. 'Good. Looks like the thread holds up.' Then he took
out a smaller tube and attached it to the one in the ceiling. He inserted
it into my nose, nearly cutting my air off totally! I heard his boots on
the floor, and then his gloved hand pressed the red button again. 'Have
fun, pig. Try not to suffocate!' He chuckled and strolled up the stairs.
Meanwhile, the turds were pressing through the thinner tube and into my
nose! I was totally helpless and had to swallow every piece of shit
before I could breathe again! Whenever an Officer went to the toilet, I
was begging that he hadn't eaten too much or the shit would choke me and
I would die!

Many hours later I heard boots again and the Officer's laughter. 'You fat
pig - look at you all swollen!' He pulled the tube out of my nose and
then took out his nightstick and started beating my bloated body. 'You
don't feel a thing, do you, maggot?' he asked. But the pain was horrible!
After a dozen more blows he lifted me off the hook and dropped me on the
concrete floor at his boots. I was totally disoriented and my swollen
belly even more restricted my movements. The leash was fastened to my
collar once more and he pulled me with him through the corridor and
upstairs.

Back in the courtyard he kicked me hard in the rear and snapped off the
leash. 'Time to work off some of that fat belly, gimp!' I was ordered to
run laps again. 'Two hundred laps, cripple!' He kicked me again in the
ribs and I hopped away on my stumps, blind, mute and helpless. 'Faster
gimp!' the Officer ordered. I obeyed him, moving my limbs as fast as I
could. After about a minute I felt a sharp pain in my head and fell over.
I had run into the prison wall, blind that I was. The Officer laughed.
'Guess it's gonna be a painful two hundred, worm!' I had to get up on my
stumps again and continue along the new wall at full speed until I
crashed into the next one. 'Mmmmph,' I sobbed. My tightly sewed lips let
nothing through.

The next morning I was a bloody, near dead mess. My belly was just as big
as before since everything was sealed up on me except my nose, and just a
few trickles of shit had managed to come out that way. Just when I had
finished the last lap, the Officer came back for me with a group of his
Police colleagues. They wore their steel capped boots and leather riot
shin guards for protection, comfortably strapped on their muscular legs.
'Heel, maggot! Time to kick some sense into you!' The Officer snapped his
fingers and I moved towards his voice. When I came close he lifted his
boot and kicked me with full force on my shoulder. I flew several yards
and rolled over a couple of times.

The other Officers had spread out in the courtyard. Now from the exact
opposite side, another Officer ordered 'Heel!' I got up on my stumps and
squirmed towards his boots and when I was close enough he raised his foot
and planted it with full force on top of my head, crushing me into the
asphalt. I vomited, but nothing came out since my lips were sewn shut and
I had to swallow it all again. Another Officer barked 'Heel!' and snapped
his fingers. I wobbled over there and received a hard kick to my ribs
again. 'Heel!' I rose to my stumps and obeyed the next order. This time
the Officer managed a perfect hit with his steel toed boot right in the
middle of my face, crushing my nose and breaking my jaw. The other
Officers applauded him and then the punishment continued.

The ring of Officers got tighter and tighter until I was lying on the
ground right in the middle. Now they were just kicking me violently
wherever they could. Still kicking me, they took out their nightsticks,
and a few of them their cattle prods, and began using those too on my
body. I was caught helpless in the middle, forced to endure the violent
beating and unable to shield myself with my bruised stumps. After nearly
an hour, they planted the last boot sole in my face and pushed me away
from them.

'Up on your stumps, piggie' the Officer ordered. Somehow I managed to
obey.

'Stand at attention!' he said. I stood as still as I had learned with my
head bowed obediently. I heard his big boots coming closer and then
stopping, right at my face. He raised one muscular leg and planted the
boot on my bruised back, using me as a footrest. Then he took out a cigar
from one of the leather pockets on his belt and lit it with a few puffs
of smoke. 'Next time, maybe you'll learn not to spill any Police shit,
retard!' he told me. I cried silently, and no tears escaped through my
sewn up eyelids. He let the cigar ashes fall into the deep bloody cuts on
my body and watched to make sure I stood still at attention as ordered.
After about fifteen minutes, he had nearly smoked the entire cigar.

'Raise your head, turd!' He took the still smoking cigar butt with his
gloved hand and slowly inserted it into my right nostril, the glowing end
first. Then he took his boot off my back and wiped his gloves, and his
bootsteps faded as he left me standing there.

I was no longer a human. Inmate S9873C98ZXDF87-987SX stood obediently as
it had been ordered, its thoughts and mind clouded and its body
remodeled. Suddenly a size 16 EEE leather Police boot stomped me to the
ground and held me there. A muscular Officer with a leather Police jacket
and padded Police gauntlets looked down on me. 'No slacking off, worm!'
he barked. He planted both size 16 Patrol boots on my back and his full
290-pound muscular frame pinned me to the dirt.

'First week playtime is over, maggot! Now we're getting serious!' His
right boot cushed my head against the ground and his left one was planted
on my back. 'Time to go to the gym, but I need to get my gear bag first.
Giddyup!' He slashed my sides with his horsewhip and choked me with the
leash in his other gloved hand.

And as the second week of my life sentence started, I began squirming
over the pavement like the worm I was, the beefy Officer on my back and a
life of torment ahead of me. All of it to be spent in Camp 177.