I found it to be intensely sexual, erotic, manipulative and dangerous from LGBT and straight men alike.
It varies based on time spent as a prisoner, type of institution and physical freedom and privacy of the prisoners.
In my wild twenties I got to sit in jail for trespassing, arguing with a neighbor and stepping onto his property, for several days. I chose to be Out but I also chose to not go into segregated population because of the trans and gay gangs/street people---I rightly figured I could survive better as the different one amongst many than as the similar amongst similar. In a psycho-social fight of offense and defense, every advantage counts.
First I was in my own little room, that's so they can observe you, then you get tossed into like a dorm room with three others, again testing; then into a massive two tier section that has fifty two rooms with huge metal doors on electronic controls. Oddly my biggest fear was the doors locking and no one at the controls, being entombed. Even open cell bars would allow us to assist each other. I know odd fear amongst so much other insanity.
In the four man room, a young guy who was just 6'4 of perfect muscle grade A dark chocolate, started flirting with me. The lights go out and the other two young guys start sharing dirty little tales about doing stuff in our en suite, en cell (?) bathroom.
Chocolate Thunder keeps talking smack. So I'm like look, I've done it.
And their like done what?
I'm like "As in allllllll, bitches. Punks talk smack, men fuck. What you wanna do?"
Silencio.
Chocolate Thunder suddenly became Mary Poppins, maybe tomorrow night when different guards are patrolling, he's tired.
I'm like, you sure? Lets do this!
They all grumble off to sleep, I'm moved to my own cell the next day.
Rubicon One:
Tip# 1: Roar louder and demand more when subtly threatened with.
They were suggesting running a train on me, and they had to know, this train runs on my schedule. Take control and dominance of the transgressive. Most predators use the tabooness to shock others into freezing, submission.
Tell them you'll be measuring penises, enjoying it, and in fact where's the grape jelly?
Next level: Guards.
I'm in my cell, bars—-my whole my pod is getting ready---jail is a lot senseless moving to keep prisoners discombobulated, confused about layout and under forms of observation to determine what level of control is needed for you.
Officer Ventura takes me daily to a shower cubicle, no curtains, pulls up a chair and watches me shower.
I ask for some privacy.
He says nope, he likes to watch.
Again predatory transgressive shock but he's very attractive. Like Zac Effron but you know....manlier. Also disrespecting or resisting a guards directive is considered insubordination which they rail on and on about, garnering you new/additional jail time. This was my first time in jail and I didn't realize that the bankrupt county got $150 a day per prisoner from the federal government, it only cost like $10 to house and feed us.
There is a financial vested interest in our infractions, which is why there are so many idiosyncratic rules towards a population of impulse control limited folk. The jail librarian who explained this to me said the point was to get months tagged into your sentence, you could legally serve 364 days in jail there, a day over that and you were sent to a prison. The game was to get as many of those 364 days tagged into you thru insubordination or court appearance/delays of a week.
Yes, now the external system is jacked too.
I realized I am really in a mental labyrinthe now.
I gave Officer Ventura the soap scrub down show of Life!
Imagine Pam Grier, Prince and Gypsy Rose Lee taking a shower....for an audience. I had him captivated for up to a half an hour at a time, until by schedule, he had to take me back to my cell.
The move here was I needed allies to keep me safe, he was a voyeur due to the restraints of his job and I needed his possessive protection and attention. By then I understood this constant moving game so I had to survive him not beat him.
He took me to the showers at least three times a day because I said it relaxed me, he made comments about my thighs, always got me new soap and though it might seem creepy by it, there was more kindness, stayed near me, talked to me, alleviated some of my fears.
Voyeurism is a domination fetish which is why I went more feminine energy yin energy with him vs yang masculine with the others.
Guard #2: Sanford
Now Sanford was a special kind of freak. He had three violations against him for taking prisoners to private spots and sexually abusing them. Only three had lodged formal complaints but the inherent problem of the internal complaint system is that the complainant generally has bigger problems than the incident, wants to get out, doesn't want to get on the guard shit list and unless obviously injured is a criminal accusing a law enforcement officer.
Sanford was also unattractive, a true sociopath, swarmy predator so you couldn't even join into a decent mindfuck with him.
He notices me but I've got my Rook Ventura running interference but Sanford outranks him so he moves through all levels. He's, in power, a Queen. I lack power and knowledge to effectively fight him head on.
They move me to my pod finally, now it's just sit and wait for your court date.
I immediately make friends with as many of the prisoners as possible by loudly declaring my name, innocence and this injustice. Attract attention at all costs.
I then directly conscript them all into my "army" and I tell them, 51 plus about 8 guards that I am co-opting their psychic energy to get me out of there, they are to focus on my safety and release.
This does two things, it consciously makes me distinctly visible and memorable to 60 people. I can't be conveniently disappeared because everyone, someone is always watching and aware of where the new nut job is. Two, it subconsciously does co-opt the energy of the others to connection to me. They think of themselves as connected to me, even if they don't want to or care because I've overtly created connection to them. So guys start playing cards and chess with me to calm me down; others ask me to write letters for them to family and lawyers :
(
I now become an emotional confidant at their illiteracy and the content of the letters. More power is gained by keeping a mans secrets than spilling them.
- One, you've established loyalty.
- Two, reason not to harm you .
- Three, rapport, he can continue to confide in you.
).
I can now be a counselor, I can also be an exotic feminine energy receptacle for all the roiling masculine energy, I can tease, comfort, chastise, flirt and the men feel delighted.
My currency is stroking their minds. Everyone wants to chat me up, get some time with me. I am surrounded, I'm safe from Sanford.
He contrived to take me to the library where I tried to spend time daily. I know in the transferring he must know books and crannies for abuse so I'm slightly insolent, walking ahead, too fast, turning wrong directions. I begin to tease about escaping as we go by an open gate. The psychological pressure is I'm a bit of a wild card, he's in his 50s so he'll need help to capture me, but how will that make him look. It's too risky to assault the wild card, too volatile .
PH.D. Gigolo.
Ph.D. was Pumped Handsome and Delicious.
Hence why I called him Ph.D. . He would walk with me in circles around the dorms while telling me about his gigolo ways, making comments about the guys teasing him he was dating me, how straight he was but....what did I look for in a guy?
My sexuality had become a form of currency in there. By now Officer Ventura is visiting and I'm literally hiding out for an hour at time in the showers, eight that are in the center of the dorms two tiers, again no curtain putting on a steam and soap show for all those brave enough to watch.
- Some would stop and stare; others would walk by a dozen times;
- one loud mouth gang member drew a beautiful picture of me and gave me commissary snacks, asked me to put his laundry in the dryer (jail parlance for attachment, romantic) while he went to court, the others teased him that he had a crush on me---he looked like a ripped Lil Wayne with no front teeth and no dreads.
- Ph.D. is walking me around,
- Ventura is visiting,
- Sanford is half visiting but scared to engage;
- I'm whore show showering twice a day so I can avoid mindfucking and can cry under the water
- I'm running counseling sessions for the porn star who killed his ex manager who killed his boyfriend;
- writing letters for the other killer who is dropping a dime on the porn star who used to date his daughter (small county), -the acid dropping skater kid who took four days to come down but perceived reality in reverse ---he confused everyone unless you listened to him;
- the serial killer I hugged to calm down --professing universal love for;
- the junkie intellectual-
- the mini Bernie Madoff embezzler who's happy to be away for a few years;
- the career criminal who is hopped up on every anti-psychotic but taught me how to use a book as a weapon WHEN, not if, the marauding gang lead by No Teeth came in to beat and/or rape me---but they were working their way along the other side of the tier first;
- the angel faced blonde haired blue eyed cherub who was so pretty his free time was opposite ours so we were always separated by our locked doors to him---but would play chess with me through the food slot----oh he had savagely killed his parents;
- and the regular guards who were comforting and helpful, even intervening when the prison doctor gave me what I thought was a sleep aid (jail is loud 20 hours a day because criminals are off their circadian rhythms' due to all the moving and frosted glass and heavy outdoor spotlights making it difficult to discern time by nature---I saw tree branches and leaves at the top of the enclosed outdoor rec area twice.
You lose conscious track of time --- you're awakened at 7am and fed then counted, then locked back in, then locked out of your pod at 10am to ensure socialization and non potential suicidal or criminal isolation; and then lined up and counted again, locked back in and then lunch and then locked in and the TV on the ceiling is blaring from 7 am till 12pm and it's none of the good channels---think TV Land because sitcoms are the most low form of mind numbing, except movie night where they played Hannibal---I can't make this up---three times in a row)....two more lock ins separated by dinner and then an hour or two of free time as long as there haven't been fights.
I'm getting frazzled and twisted and now freaking out from what I think is Aleve PM and is actually an antipsychotic, that ProCriminal---he looked like the guy from Borscht ---- explains is trazodone---but if you're not psychotic it makes you psychotic.
The Guard Captain watching me now totally freak out goes over the doctors head to the Warden to get me off the doctors list to give pills to, but I've been stirring up the wolves now. I've had to answer every sex and sexuality question under the sun for sometimes twenty guards and prisoners at a time---I'm doing Q&As! Then privately over cards or in the library I'm being regaled with tales of male on male debauchery that have occurred in their lives, in their musings or---in their cells and crevices because....of me.
Would I join and lead a sex group?
Now I'm routinely asking the guards to lock me into my pod and guys are hanging outside, talking through the window, musing about when I'm available, drawing pictures of me, making suggestions, getting all fraternity/football team riled up.
See in Gypsy Rose Lee you do your songs and dance and leave . But the external $150 Force is working against me, i'm trapped against a system that keeps delaying 3 days, 7 days, 3 more days claiming crowded courts to make that Federal cash......and then 9/11 happened while I'm friggin sitting there and ALLLLLLLLLL COURTS ARE SHUTDOWN, all jails on federal lockdown.
My next, extended stay show of 10 days, involves "sleeping" and writhing seductively under my sheets in my locked cell with groups who normally turn up for the Whore Shower Show now standing peering through the pod door window.
I'm running out of game.
I'm fucked.
Or I will be because I turned on all of these criminal sociopathic sexually frustrated men and didn't abscond as planned.
Now I'm using Ph.D. as security but my bill to him is coming due.
Officer Ventura is taking Sanford lessons but though there is some real attraction the power dynamic is all kinds of jacked up...he's telling me to stay calm, he's got my back...where do I live again?...he'll visit when I out in a few days....do I want to take a long walk to the " library " during his lunch break?
My inevitable gang rape was staved off by the federal ban being lifted on jails, the initial intake or new arrests were crowded with hundreds of people at the front end so rather than dragging out my Misdemeanor for more weeks, it became a Violation, like others to get hundreds of us released to make room for the bottlenecking newbies.
No Teeth got transferred for leading the beat down gangs after they beat the Junkie Intellectual so badly that I watched them take him out on a bloody stretcher---the nicest thing he ever said to me was that in all my counseling, I treated them like real men, that I was their mentor. Then you know....he got the nods and dozed off, a pool of drool in his lap.
Ventura got pulled to the bottle necking extra duty so he knew the township I lived in but not specific address.
Sanford got pulled to bottlenecking and got beat for trying to blow the wrong dude. Said Non Blower got three years possible from the assault charge against a guard.
Ph.D. actually gave me his address and hugged me when they came to release. He was rock hard. Everywhere. No, I never contacted him. His history of sociopathic several behavior promised either I'd end up his bottom bitch running hoes, his bottom bitch running after him or dead from some crazed bitch he'd ripped off killing while aiming for him.
Gay Sex in prison is expensive.
If you are there too long, even if you're running the 48 Laws of Power game on Max like I was, you will have to make a decision, a choice, a contact compromise.
My biggest fear was attack or sex assault because if I fought back I could get charged even if it were with another prisoner. Oh, yeah and the sex is illegal too. That would mean they could add a charge, push me to the max (the de facto goal) of 364 dats---times $150---equals $54,600---literally a bounty on my head.
And then ship me off to prison. Real prison.
Honestly, the security had spots, holes, if it looked like that i was going to make a break for it or get Sanford to rape me and get Dna evidence, which would mean at least two or three times to gain his confidence.
I considered doing the same to Ventura but he was a genuinely good guy who hadn't come out yet because of his family all being cops. But I liked him but I couldn't trust him because of the power dynamic which like a man, he played on. I didn't want to have to slit his throat personally and professionally. But I would have.
Gay prison sex puts you into all of the dark morality games, like Whore Show Shower time and my coup de grace Cell Live Under Sheet Sex Show.
If id gone into the Lgbt wing I would've beat down or bitched out. I'm cute but not enough to those who've done as much as me and worse...not more, sexually worse. Man rape, same gender child rape that was never discovered or prosecuted , hooking, sex shows, pimping.
I chose the straight wing because I knew I could play off of fluidic male sexuality, straight curiosity, boredom and emotional feminine rapporting and psychological exposure and dependence. It would have not worked as well in an lgbt ward. I would have had to go Rowan Pope, B613 on the manbitches and that would have lead to turf fights, proving either my ability to fight or sexual skills, catching a charge. It's easier to combat a lion if you're a tiger then go into another lion pride.
Was I offered man love, yes. But here's,the manipulation price, it would have cost me another one of my straight protectors, a rook in Ventura, a bishop in Ph.D., pawns in guards, a knight in the guy whose daughter dated the porn star. A choice is a path, that path may cut off other choices and paths. Internal male dominance pack psychology wants what is out of reach, slightly but not sullied.
There was the Wild Haired Pisces chess player who would make me come out of my cell and play hundreds, of speed chess games with him. He was like I see what you're doing but if you isolate because you're tired, they'll pounce on you. I wont let anything happen to you but you have to continue walking amongst us lol a psychotic Queen, its keeping them off kilter. Your endgame is out, not rest.
Years later reading X Men issues 380s, Paul Smith , Chris, Claremont written, of course, a depowered Storm and Nightcrawler set up by Arcade have to cross a group of virulent anti mutant haters. Think KKK mob of hundreds, Obama and Assata Shakur.
Storm's advice was a years later codification of my strategy.
"When the antelope must cross the veldt past a pride of lions, show no fear."
And with that she and Kurt, sans powers, calm as an ice cube in a baby's bonnet, strolled through the mob, using their own manufactured thoughts, of the other/mutants being empowered, dangerous, as a shield.
Mme. L'Enclos would've been proud of me.
#KylePhoenix
#TheKylePhoenix
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