Ok, there’s all this testosterone. Like just oceans of it. And there are all of these men (and women, female guards. But only a few.). Now of the 51 others I was with in a double tier section, about 25 of them were fugly. Too old, obese, weird looking, junkies, career criminals that didn’t do any of the high crimes.
Then there were about 10 of them in protective custody so our meal and recreation times were off sync. Though we were in the same tiers, they were let out as soon as we were locked in and vice versa. They were in PC because one looked 15 but was really 22 and a killer. Another was an alleged serial killer. They’d been in fights a lot. They’d come up to your door and talk, play chess through the door slot.
The last 20 were a mixed bag. Then there were the COs. Ok, again, percentages: 50% looked a donut away from Nothingburgers. Another 25% were older, gruff, or women.
But the 25% left over from BOTH officers and prisoners? Lord have mercy, sweet Jesus, Christ on a cracker, Ms. Honeybiscuit, let me tell you…….!!!!!!!!
Being my normal, contrarian to authority INTJ self, there was a week or two where I didn’t know you got drugged up, I thought it was sleep aid, then I started freaking out because if you’re not psychotic and you take an anti-psychotic, you go bonkers. So I refused all meds. So they put me in isolation. I was very young, in my 20s, I’d never been in jail before so I was now high, having never done drugs, tripping and terrified and I couldn't’ sleep.
So the deal became between me and the Captain that I would rest, maybe eat some non-medicated food but she needed two guards to sit and observe me for 8 hour shifts, we could talk—-drugs made me chatty—-but that was the deal. Because she cared, and wanted me to put my uniform back on—-between The Hurricane and Malcolm X, and my father—-I knew every non-compliant thing you could do that wouldn’t get you charged but was protest. Like not wearing your uniform—— nekkedity!!!—— or anything which gets you put into an isolated cell, away from the normal prisoners—-who I was afraid of. It was all a trippy game to get my own room, alone, until I was out.
But I have to be watched. The Captain brought over about 8 guards and said she wanted me to pick. And yes, I picked the finest of the Finest. One I called “Iceman” because he had white-blue eyes and never smiled but I was yeah, and I want that handsome son of bitch to start the rotation, he actually blushed and cracked a smile. The whole scene was outrageous. So I picked every flavor: Black, White, Puerto Rican, I was the only one a freakin’, male and female, the most attractive guards sat with me until the drugs worked out of my system over 48 hours.
Then I was put into a group Tier and Officer Hunky, who regularly took me to the showers, kept the curtain drawn back and positioned his chair to watch me shower, telling me I had an ass like a Black woman, would visit the dorm periodically to see how I was. My cell was next to a Black guy who was a gigolo, he was 6′4, 225, PHD—-Pumped Handsome, Delicious. We would walk in circles around the cell bloc and he would tell me stories of how he seduced….women.
Because these men are criminals, all they do, is work out. 6 to 10 hours a day. When I would go to the library they would ask me to bring back extra books, heavy ones. They would tie them up to make dumbbells. So 15 men are strolling around in front of my dorm room, never wearing anything but no shirts, jumpsuits tightened to shorts, just lifting and grunting and preening and sweating.
And, while tripping on the State’s drug cocktail. I’d come out. No, like Ellen come out. Like Leader of the LGBT Avengers come out. I was SuperGay!
But once, I’m off the drugs, I can no longer be sequestered so now I’m in a normal cell room with all this——uniformed and not—— manly attention.
I think I’m going to you know, die. Be beat. Pummeled. Maybe even raped before I’m pummeled. Somehow in this I start playing every seductive, non-seductive, teasing, loudmouth, hot stare game in the 48 Laws of Power Art of Seduction books.
They’re all vying to chat me up about really innocuous stuff, they’re yearning for a non-gruff contact, an intimate feeling—-could I help them writer a letter, do I know how to get a letter to a lawyer, what should they do with drug money, should they confess and take the plea, had I ever been in three way and been the hole and the peg at the same time?
This last question was asked by a young man as 20 of us are sitting in a cell under the court house—-the whole bloc and the officers turn to me for the answer. This guy was one of two guys who had too many sex, non straight questions.
(The gigolo except he was taller and a little browner.)
(The artist gang leader—-Except he had no front teeth)
The gang leader next to my cell drew an incredibly perfect picture of me using pencils, potato chip seasoning, dirt and fruit rind juice.
(These two look like guys who had so many sex questions…so many non straight sex questions. So many. Too many.)
The gigolo says that guys are asking him why he’s always hanging out with me, am I his? Giggle. He giggles!
The toothless gang leader asks me to put his laundry in the dryer, and I did, and was admonished by the others because it “means” something-—courting in Prison Bizarro Universe.
Hunky is visiting regularly telling me to avoid another officer who has 3 charges against him for taking prisoners out to secluded areas and forcing them to have sex. He looked like this.
Yes, Officer Ret To Do It, looked like Ossie Davis.
Testosterone activates testosterone in other men, estrogen lowers it but there aren’t nearly enough women to offset thousands of men who are exercising and pacing and decorating the walls of their cells with pictures and fluids.
And suddenly I’m “out” in General Population.
The sexual tension was palpable but though many of my gay friends thought later this was a dream come true, it was the opposite. You have no agency, so if Hunky made a move beyond lewd watching, i couldn’t have stopped him without inciting an assault charge from him/the State. So I would have to submit to whatever he wanted. My word against the State of NY.
Toothless was bonkers. Yeah, I said it.
The gigolo was a sociopath.
The ones who would come to my cell door window and watch me sleep, move on the bed in broad daylight——several of them I would wake up to this—-were just waiting for an “opportunity”. On it’s surface it seems to be an erotic dream because there’s so much enhanced, fluidic sexual energy, attention, undercurrent but the problem is—-they’re all fucking crazy criminals or people who have chosen to work with crazy criminals so they’re a little touched themselves.
Yes, there is an abundance of sexual possibilities and offers because there are so many men, so much time, so much activating testosterone. The problem is you have no control or a slim window of control as to which one you’ll partner up with and then you have to submit to his wacky version of love. And if he had a healthy vision of love—-he wouldn’t be in jail.
I found that jail, I wasn’t in prison—-Thank God—-made sexuality more fluidic due to lack of choice and all of the biochemical activation. The question was more of how obvious some were with attention, how covert, who might flirt with you alone in his cell, who was your friend because they wanted dibs, how much time was on each man’s fluidic timer—-some took longer.
I can say there was a sweetness, a gentleness, a kindness to every one of these men and women that further confused their predatory actions which further confuses you because you realize it’s a jungle where the barriers to sex, sexual attack and coercion aren’t laws and society anymore, it’s opportunity.
And to top this whole hebang off—-sexual contact is yes, a felony, between prisoners-prisoners/prisoners-guards. Everything is more time, more time, more time because that’s how the State makes it’s federal monies. It would’ve been the costliest trick turned if I’d indulged. This level of drama was why I chose not to go into LGBT Protected Custody because that dorm was basically a sex fest with bars and fights over the sex fest.
I was SuperGay but I was just one among hundreds of men. Luckily with my powers gone I was able to use my wits long enough for my days to run out and then I literally ran out.
Smile, Kyle
KylePhoenixShow@Gmail.com
KylePhoenixShow@Gmail.com
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