This story deals with the treatment an 18 year old 'delinquent' receives when he is sent to a young offenders' centre run by the radical doctor Meredith.
PROLOGUE
The rise in the incidence of crimes committed by 'Young Offenders' alarmed the good citizens of the land.
The public demanded action. The government called upon the expertise of Doctor Meredith, a clinical psychologist specialising in deviant sexual behaviour.
They gave him total control and provided him with adequate funding with which to conduct his top secret research.
Dean Bates is just eighteen when he is sentenced to nine months in Balthwaite. Little did he know that he was about to become an unwilling participant in the good Doctor's experiment, an experiment designed to deal with two problems at once.
Read young Dean's makeshift diary and memories of his treatment within the walls of Balthwaite and judge for yourself whether you believe Meredith's ideology will accomplish its goal:
SHORT,SHARP,SHOCK
By Xavier
Part One: 'Indoctrination'
You could be forgiven for thinking that the title of my story is the government's solution to youth crime in this country. Indeed, until I was sentenced to nine months in Balthwaite young offenders' centre, I was under the same impression, an impression that made me think that I was in for nine months of gruelling military style discipline. So the day I left Preston juvenile court to begin my time, I was expecting to be thrown out of bed at 5.30 a.m. and forced to do menial tasks. I was unaware of the government's secret plans to tackle the ever growing menace of lawless youth.
Since my release from the centre, I have complained to the police about my treatment. When they saw my records, they said I was fantasising and to 'piss off out of it' before I got another helping of the same. All I can say is that if the government implemented the programme of 'rehabilitation' that I was subjected to, the crime wave would vanish overnight, at least amongst the age group of sixteen to twenty. I think if what is going on at Balthwaite were to get out there would be an outcry from moralists and the like, but as with all government top secret plans, it's all kept very much under wraps.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that the programme won't work, on the contrary, as I have said, if all young offenders, and I speak about male offenders here, were subjected to this programme, they would certainly think twice before committing an offence again, I know I shall.
Anyway, the main reason I am writing this is as a sort of a diary. I did make some notes of things that happened to me on the inside, and I have a very good memory. Perhaps it may excite you to read about my experiences or you may feel sorry for me. Either way it is up to you to decide whether the government's new plans would work or not. I want people to know what happened to me.
I'll tell you a bit about myself. My name is Dean, Dean Bates and I am now nineteen years old. I live in Toxteth, an area of Liverpool, on a large council estate. Since I left school at sixteen, I have been unemployed. I have been on several youth opportunity programmes, supposedly leading to a proper job, but nothing ever comes of it. I've done gardening in the park, street sweeping, decorating, building and car repairs; a bit of everything really.
Anyway, one night last October, I was out with my mates in the centre of Liverpool. As per normal we were all skint and were just hanging around, there were about seven of us. I should tell you that I had been in trouble with the law before, for nickin' cars an' breaking shop windows. Don't ask me why I do it; I just get a buzz out of it.
As we passed Dixons, there wasn't a soul to be seen. One of me mates shouted "Hey look Dean, aint that the video camera you were talkin' about." "Yeah, that's it all right. Aint it a beauty. Wish I had the three grand to buy it." As we walked on, we came to the multi storey car park. "Last one to the top is a cunt," someone shouted. We all ran up the stairs to the sixth floor making a hell of a noise as we did so. When we got to the top we found that there was one car parked there, it was an old Vauxhall Cavalier hatchback. As we approached I noticed that the driver's window hadn't been closed properly. This was too much for me to resist and it wasn't long before, somehow, all seven of us had squeezed into the car and I was drivin' it away.
As we drove down the deserted streets (it was now 2 a.m.) we passed Dixons again. "Hey Dean, how about that camera then?" shouted one of my mates. "What do you mean?" "Well you've got the car now, do you have the guts to ram the window and take it?" As you probably know, most of Dixons' shops have metal grilles for security, but this one, being in the centre of town, hadn't had any fitted as yet, perhaps they felt more secure or something, I don't know; we were soon to put an end to that.
Without thinking, I drove around the block, put my foot on the accelerator and pointed the car towards the shop doorway. As we mounted the pavement I knew it was too late to change my mind. I looked at the speedo; it read 50 mph. There was an almighty crash and the sound of breaking glass filled my ears. Instantly the shop's alarm began to sound, a deafening, shrieking siren type of thing. In a flash all my mates piled out of the car and into the shop, grabbing anything they could carry. I tried to reverse the car out of the doorway so, I thought, that we could make a quick getaway. How wrong could I have been. The front bumper was caught in the buckled framework of the doorway; I could not make the car budge.
"Come on Dean, get the fuck out of there," shouted a mate. Suddenly I heard a police siren. How the fuck they got there so quickly I will never know, they must have been in the area or something. I went to open my door only to find it jammed. I began to panic as I saw my 'mates' making a quick exit. As I scrabbled over the passenger seat to get out of the other door, the lace of my boot, which had for some unknown reason decided to come open at that time, became well and truly caught in the bottom of the hand brake lever; what the fuck it was stuck on I don't know to this day, but I couldn't shift it. I quickly pulled my boot off but it was too late, those vital seconds cost me my freedom as I felt a hefty hand grab hold of me by the shoulder as I emerged from the car.
That's what earned me my nine month sentence and it wasn't long before I first set eyes on the Balthwaite young offenders' centre. I will never forget the time I first entered the grounds of the centre via the heavily fortified main gate. The centre is located in a remote area of Scotland and was purpose built to carry out the government's latest 'experiment'. If there are any of those reading this aged between sixteen and twenty contemplating a life of crime, I would urge you to think again. If you value your dignity, you don't want to be sent to Balthwaite.
Here is my diary:
Day one
Arrived at 3.30 p.m. after a long and tiring journey in the back of a prison van. Had hair cut. Settled into my cell. I have my own room. Better than expected.
Day two
Issued with Balthwaite 'uniform'. This consists of a white tee shirt, jet black trousers that are too fuckin' tight, white plimsolls and short navy blue socks. I was not given any underwear.
Day three
Had interview with governor. Told this was no ordinary young offenders' centre. Had to fill out a questionnaire that asked me lots of personal questions. Had a medical examination.
Day four
Underwent my first treatment.
On day four, I didn't feel much like writing; but I can tell you every detail of what happened:
Shortly after I had had my breakfast, at around 8 a.m., a guard came to my room. "Okay Bates, come with me. It's time you were taught a lesson as to the rights and wrongs of youth crime." The guard led me down a long corridor, up a narrow staircase and into a small room. "Sit," the guard ordered. I sat. He left and closed the door. As I looked around, I noticed that the room was completely bare, apart from the chair I was sitting on. The walls were of plain plaster painted a very light blue, the floor was covered in very highly polished linoleum. There was no window in the room but there was a large glass oblong, which appeared to be a mirror, built into the wall. I sat there for what seemed like hours. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I suddenly thought that I hadn't seen any other prisoners since my arrival. What if I was the only one? I suddenly felt very insecure and afraid.
Suddenly the room was plunged into darkness. In an instant, what I thought to be a mirror, turned into a very large television screen type of thing, I've never seen anything like it. Before I knew it I was watching a film. The titles named it 'BALTHWAITE, a new solution'. It began with a commentary showing the outside of a traditional Borstal institution. 'For many years the role of the Borstal was merely to detain young offenders. Then came Short, Sharp, Shock. Sadly,' the voice went on 'both methods have failed to deliver the required results. Teenagers have returned to a life of crime. Society demands the government should act.'
The film dragged on for what seemed like hours. 'They're tryin' to brain wash me' I thought. The picture on the screen changed. It was the face of someone who I would get to know very well over the next few months. It was Dr. Meredith, a clinical psychologist specialising in sexual deviant behaviour. I was just beginning to doze off when the film stopped and the room was flooded with very bright light.
"Pay attention boy," a voice boomed from hidden loudspeakers. It was so loud it made me jump. "Listen carefully to what Dr. Meredith has to say, you are in his care for the next nine months and your treatment depends on him." Before I could say a word the lights went out and I was again plunged into complete darkness. The film started again. It was the voice of the Dr. 'Don't think that you are going to have an easy time of it here young man. What happens to you during your sentence will change your view of the world. You have committed a crime against society and society demands payment. I am here to exact that payment, and in doing so I am also helping others under my charge.' It was almost as though the film was directed just at me. I wondered how a Doctor could make me pay my 'debt to society'. I was feeling very hostile towards society anyway, as far as I was concerned I didn't owe them a fuckin' thing. 'In the course of your treatment, you will be helping other offenders and those in society who may be tempted to commit sexual offences. You will also be helping in valuable research as to the sexuality of teenage boys'.
By this time I was totally confused. What the fuck was this 'Doctor' goin' on about. As suddenly as the film began, it finished. There was a brief pause. I then got the shock of my life for there on the screen was the bluest of blue films I had ever seen. It began with a young girl going out shopping and ended up with her being gang raped. When the film finished I was again presented with the face of Dr. Meredith. 'The men committing the offence against this girl need help,' he droned. I thought what the fuck has this got to do with me, I've never even thought of raping anyone. I do know that the film gave me a fuckin' big stiff on inside my trousers and, as I hadn't been able to see my girlfriend for a shag for weeks, I could have wanked off there and then, especially as the girl in the film had such big tits. The good Doctor continued... 'As part of your payment to society you, along with the other inmates of Balthwaite, will assist me in the treatment of such offenders and those in society who seek to perpetrate such vile acts upon innocent people.'
The film stopped abruptly, the room was again flooded with bright light and the door opened. The same guard who had brought me to the room entered. "Want to go to the toilet?" he asked grumpily. As I glanced out of the open door, I noticed a clock on the wall, it read 12.35 p.m. I had been in that room for over four hours. The guard led me a short way along the corridor. On my way I passed several doors, all had no windows. "In there," ordered the guard. As I entered the darkened room the door slammed behind me. Now I don't know about you, but I was expecting a toilet of some sort, as this is what I was asked. I fumbled in the dark until I found a switch to the right of the door. I pressed it and the unmistakable hum and clicking of fluorescent tubes filled my ears and the room was illuminated in a cold white light.
I was not in a toilet at all. It was a long narrow room containing what looked like a dentist's chair. "Sit," boomed a voice, again through a hidden loudspeaker. I thought they must have had a bloody big amplifier to get such a powerful volume. Everything in the room vibrated. The order had the desired effect and I sat in the chair. I found it to be very comfortable and felt quite relaxed as I sank into its leather type covering. My 'relaxation' however was short lived. Before I could move, metal restraints appeared out of both arms, clasping my wrists to the chair. Similar restraints appeared from the footrest and my legs were also secured. I could not move.
I shouted to let me up, but nothing happened, no one came, I felt so alone and helpless. Suddenly the lights went out and I was again plunged into darkness. 'What the fuck is goin' on' I thought to myself. They are definitely tryin' to brainwash me.
During my stay at Balthwaite I was continually amazed at the new technology which was available, it must have cost a fortune, no wonder the government is always complaining that it must raise taxes to pay for such projects.
As if by magic, a large video screen appeared from the ceiling above me and was suspended in front of my face, I could not avoid looking at it. Dr. Meredith appeared again. 'In your role as an instrument of therapy, you should be aware of what you are expected to do. Bear in mind that you are repaying your debt to society whilst helping others.' His face vanished and another film began. I had never seen anything like it. This film began with a young lad of about my own age. He was hitch hiking. A lorry stopped and he got in. Before he knew what was happening, a hand appeared from behind the seat he was sitting in, and he was dragged into the back of the very large, continental type cab. In the back were three large and muscular men. To cut a long story short. They abducted the young lad, he looked about 18, and, over a period, subjected him to every type of sexual act they could think of. The film went on and on. Strangely enough, I found certain parts of it exciting, and the thought of the young lad being abused in this way aroused feelings that I never knew before.
At last the film ended. By this time I really did want to go for a piss. The lights came on and the door opened. "Well my son. How did you enjoy your introductory films?" I knew the voice. As I looked up I saw the face of Dr. Meredith. He looked smaller than on the video. "It's time for you to start repaying your debt now boy." "What the fuck are you on about? Why are you showin' me all these porno films?" The guard standing alongside Dr Meredith sprang towards me and lashed out, hitting me on the cheek. "Show a bit of respect kid, you say SIR at all times when addressing the Doctor or any member of staff; any more talk like that and you'll think better of it."
Dr. Meredith took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what is going to happen Bates. You see, this centre is my brainchild; if I can prove that I can stop young tearaways like yourself from re-offending, I can make millions out of the government. They have given me a free hand and have very kindly supplied me with all I need to carry out my experiments. You see, I deal with men who want to 'force' themselves onto others in a sexual nature. Men who commit rape through utter frustration and desperation. These men could be valuable assets to society but society shuns them. That's where you come in son. You are going to provide these men with exactly what they want, and when I give them the freedom they want, freedom to abuse your teenage body to their hearts content, they will be relieved of their frustrations and again be able to lead valuable lives within society. And it's not only offenders you will be helping, oh no my boy, people who are suffering needlessly from inner frustration, frustration with no outlet, will at last, feel free. In turn you are re-paying society for the crimes you have committed, crimes which you will think twice about before committing again."
I thought he would never stop spouting. I was beginning to get really worried and wished I had never rammed that bloody shop. This was certainly not the sort of treatment I had seen on the telly, of young lads being frog marched up and down a parade ground.
"You may have noticed," he continued, "that your 'uniform' doesn't include any underwear. This is not because we keep the centre to a constant 75 degrees, on the contrary, it's to make you feel just that little bit more vulnerable. Without the support of any briefs your penis and testicles are free to move within your trousers." He came close to my face. "It DOES make you feel more vulnerable doesn't it?" I didn't have chance to say anything but I must admit that it did feel quite strange, not wearing any underpants, as I had always been used to them. The Dr. was right, it did make me feel sort of less secure. The feeling of my hot teenage shaft hanging down my right leg was, I found, strangely exciting.
"The treatment you will receive is designed to rob you of your self esteem, your dignity and your arrogance. Firstly, no doubt you want to urinate, am I correct?" The Dr. always used such precise medical terms and spoke in a 'matter of fact manner', I found it so annoying as sometimes I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about. I did know what he meant by urinate though. "Course I fuckin' well do. I've been cooped up watching your fuckin' stupid films all day aint I!" Again the guard leapt forward. "I shan't warn you again you little fucker. Show a bit of respect for the Doctor." Again he slapped my face.
"Well boy, seeing as you do want to urinate, we will assist." Thinking they were going to let me go to the bog I began imagining the relief I would get when I had a good piss. They didn't know it, but I was fuckin' bursting. I knew if I didn't go soon that I would probably piss my trousers, it was that bad.
To my surprise, the back of the chair began to move. It slowly moved backwards until I was flat on my back. I don't know how it did it, but the chair had changed into a table, the armrests becoming part of it, it was very clever. There was more whirring of gears and I felt myself being tipped upwards. I was now in a standing position, still firmly secured to the table.
One thing that always has embarrassed me is the fact that when I want to go for a piss, my prick gets really stiff, sometimes it just will not go down until I have been. The lads at school used to make fun of me when they saw my hard on in my trousers. Now was no exception, my prick was really piss hard and I knew the guard and the Doctor must be able to see it as it jutted into the black material of my trouser leg.
Just then the door opened. Four more guards came in. They were all aged around 20-25, of slim muscular build and what you might call good looking, they weren't your average borstal guards. The Doctor came up to me, he was holding a bottle with a large neck, you know the type used in hospitals for patients who can't get out of bed to go to the toilet. Without a word, and with all the five guards looking on, he started to unzip my trousers. "What's goin' on. Piss off why don't you." I started to strain at my restraints but I could not move. "This is your first bit of therapy my son. For the next week, whenever to wish to urinate or defecate, you will have an audience. Soon you will have no worries about your bodily functions, you will wonder why you ever wanted to do these things in private." "Like fuck! Get lost. Leave me alone."
My words fell on deaf ears. The Doctor continued by placing his hand inside my trousers. Taking hold of my fully erect prick, he pulled it upwards from down my leg and out of the gaping flies. I felt so humiliated as all the guards gathered around. My tool was on full display, not only that, it was on the hard as well. The Doctor forced my shaft downwards until he could get my knob end into the top of the bottle. "There we are boy. Now you can urinate to your heart's content."
Although I was dying for a piss, I somehow found it extremely difficult to go and it must have been a good five minutes before the first drops of hot yellow liquid hit the bottom of the bottle. Once in flow, it just gushed out. What a relief. All the guards laughed and cheered as the bottle filled. "That's right, you little fucker," said one of the guards, "piss your lot into that bottle." Meredith gave the guard a disapproving look at his remark. When I had finished, the Doctor took the bottle and held it up to the light. "Not a bad colour my son. I will do some tests on it later. But now for the next step in your treatment."
The Doctor then left the room. Again the table transformed itself. I found myself on my back, my legs being held apart and bent at the knees by two sort of leg rest things. I felt as though I was in the same position I had seen on a film of a woman having a baby. "Now kid," sniggered one of the guards, "it's time for us to have some 'fun' with you. We are going to degrade you, to make you feel insignificant, because that's all little cunts like you understand." He leant over me and unclipped the waistband of my black trousers. The flies were still open, my now softening prick still hanging out. Two of them lifted me slightly and another began to pull my trousers down.
Although the room was warm, I still had the sensation of cool air flowing over my private parts and especially my eighteen year old arsehole. My legs were released, the trousers pulled right off, and my legs secured again. There I was, sitting or lying in this chair contraption, legs apart with everything on full view. I was wearing only my little white tee shirt, socks and plimsolls.
"All inmates here have to join a special club," said the guard who had come in originally with the Doctor. "We feel certain that you will enjoy being a member, in fact, from the look of you, you will be a star member, won't he lads!" The other guards laughed and agreed with him, I didn't know what they were on about. "What's so special about this club an' why do I have to join?" I felt so embarrassed lying there, but I couldn't let them see this so I tried to talk as calmly as possible.
"It's called the H.A. Club. and it's been developed, along with all the other treatment you are going to get here, by Dr. Meredith. We'll give you a special tee-shirt to wear so that everyone will know you are a member." One of the guards started placing his hand between my legs and under my balls. He didn't actually touch me as such, just stroked the hairs that were growing there. "Quite a young man aren't we. How old are you?" I told him I was eighteen. They laughed. "I expect you think you're a real tough little fucker don't you? Well, we'll see just how tough you are. We are going to turn the clock back a couple of years for you."
One of the youngest looking amongst them then came back in the door, he had slipped out without my noticing. He was carrying a tray covered with a white cloth. "Time for you to join the club then lad." He placed the tray on a small table behind me, I could not see what was on it. A hand came from behind and placed something over my eyes; I couldn't see a thing, it was totally black. "Like music then kid?" Before I could answer I felt something being placed over my ears, they were headphones, but they weren't playing music. All I could hear was a loud hissing type of noise, white noise I think they call it. It blocked out any other noise in the room and after a short while I began to feel strangely detached.
Nothing happened for what seemed like hours, although in reality it was probably only a few minutes. As I lay there, drifting in a world of my own, I suddenly felt something cold and wet being applied to my stomach, just above my prick. I then felt a strange rubbing sensation. I knew what it was. Instinctively, I started to struggle, to try to break free from my bonds. The only thing that happened was the volume in the headphones increased until I was being deafened by the noise. I stopped struggling and the volume subsided. I decided it was useless to resist. As the time passed the same cold and wet feeling was extended between my legs, under my balls and to my very arsehole itself. I knew I was being relieved of the hairs that covered my sexual organs. As the process continued I felt the cool air reaching parts that were normally kept warm by my hairs. I began to feel even more naked and vulnerable. If this 'treatment' was supposed to humiliate young offenders, then it was having the desired effect on me.
Just when I thought they had finished with me I felt something tugging at my tee-shirt, then the front of my tee shirt was pulled apart, they must have cut it with scissors or something. Slowly it was removed and I was left there wearing only my socks and plimsolls. My arms, each in turn, were released, pulled upwards and the hairs under them systematically removed. The few hairs around my hard brown nipples were also removed.
The noise in the headphones stopped. I could hear the voice of Dr. Meredith, it was very quiet, almost inaudible. "You are now a member of the special club within Balthwaite, a club designed to maximise the effect of your treatment. The H.A. club. You have had every trace of body hair removed, and you will be 'shaved' in this manner at regular intervals during your stay. This will serve to heighten your feelings of insecurity and vulnerability. We are going to break you boy, you will not offend again."
The voice stopped. I do not know how long I was in the 'chair' but I do know that I felt very strange, I was beginning to feel very tired and my head was spinning. The headphones were removed along with the blindfold. As my eyes became accustomed to the bright lights, to my horror and acute embarrassment, I saw that the guards had disappeared and standing over me were three young women. They were dressed in nurses uniforms but the skirts were so short they looked like pelmets. It was them who had shaved me. I could feel myself blushing. "Now isn't he a pretty boy then. How old are you sonny?" "Eighteen," I responded. "Never," said one of them. "My boyfriend is eighteen and he has lots of hairs around his cock and balls. Just look at you, you aint got any." They all laughed as one of them ran her fingers over my chest and down to my prick. As she fondled my now hairless nuts, remarking on how soft they were, I felt my prick begin to stiffen. Oh no! I didn't want them to see my prick on the stiff. I had no control over it and it was only a matter of seconds before my prick was fully erect again. As the foreskin peeled back, to reveal my purple knob end, one of the 'nurses' pulled her top off to reveal the biggest pair of tits I had ever seen.
I just could not believe what was happening. After seeing all those films earlier and now this, my prick was full of teenage spunk. "Leave me alone, leave me alone." I shouted. "Okay then kid, if that's what you want." Immediately they left the room, leaving me lying there with a big erection which was on the verge of ejaculating. Suddenly the restraints on the chair released themselves and I was free at last. The door opened and two young guards came in. "Get dressed boy. We don't want to see your big stiff prick on show, what do you think this is?" They threw me a new pair of trousers and a tee shirt. I had to take my plimsolls off to get the trousers on, they seemed smaller than the ones they had taken off me. As I pulled them up I realised that they were smaller, they were extra tight around the top of my legs and up my bum. My prick could not fall down the leg of these, it was held in the crotch almost as if I were wearing underpants. The material felt smooth against my hairless arsehole. Before they were resting on my hairs, but now, they were touching my very ring. As I put my tee-shirt on I noticed that it had some writing on it. The shirt was too short for me and left a gap between my trousers showing my belly. "March," ordered the guard.
As I entered my cell, the door was slammed behind me. The clock on the wall said 11.30 p.m. I was whacked. There was a tray with sandwiches on it and a glass of milk. I quickly scoffed the lot. Then, as I stood in front of the full length mirror which was behind the door, I saw what I looked like. My hair was now a real short back and sides, I was wearing trousers that were too tight and too short, the tee shirt was too small, and I didn't have a hair on my 18 year old body. I took my tee-shirt off to get into bed. as I flung it on the chair I noticed what the writing said. The front of the shirt had the letters HAC printed on it. I couldn't work out what HAC meant. I found out when I looked at the back of the shirt. I couldn't believe what I was reading. In small black lettering in the centre of the shirt it read 'This boy is a fully pledged member of the Hairless Arsehole Club. He is proud to have a completely hairless body. By wearing this shirt you know that he has no hairs around his balls or his cock, he may be a big tough lad but he hasn't got a hair on his hole. You may call him a cunt if you wish.'
xavier_boyes@hotmail.com