Feminizing The Belligerent Male

Title Page

Feminizing the Belligerent Male

by

Chris Bellows

Prologue

“I called you as soon as I saw this. Got another one for you.”

It is the firm, knowing voice of Dr. Mildred Hofsteter. She speaks as I enter the infirmary, standing at her sloped operating table. Though the scene is most comical, I do not laugh, refraining not out of courtesy, mind you, but because I have encountered the situation so many times before.

Mildred, graying hair hinting at her years of experience, labors between the well parted calves of a prostrate inmate. The adjustable, well designed table has his head and shoulders low at the far end. In the raised middle, the table hinges to force his midsection high but he is bent at the hips such that his thighs are vertical to the floor. With knees also bent the inmate appears ready to crawl... except that he is well strapped to the table. At the near end where Mildred works, the table parts so that she stands between the feet of her supplicating patient.

What is comical is that with his backside thrust high toward the ceiling, his parted thighs and buttocks present perfectly his asshole... where Dr. Mildred’s skilled hands diligently endeavor.

“Anal rape?” I succinctly inquire.

Mildred nods.

“Just got transferred here. One of the prison’s biggest pegs forced itself into one of the prison’s newest and tightest holes,” our doctor wryly informs. “And as usual the big peg won the battle.”

“Can’t I have some clothes?”

The earnest plea comes from Mildred’s patient, apparently upset that he is ineluctably restrained completely naked before two women. The gloved right hand of the tending physician reaches out and rapidly swings to apply a loud smack to the meatiest portion of the well exposed posterior. With the crisp thwack the patient yelps yet thereafter knows to return to silence.

“Quiet! You’re not showing us anything we have not seen before... just less of it,” Mildred humorously ads.

I step to Mildred’s rear to watch over her shoulder. She is working with needle and thread to suture the results of what we encounter too often... a rectum torn by the powerful thrusts of a mammoth p***s enraged by months, possibly years, of unsatiated lust, pent up hormonal imbalance and enraged frustration brought by incarceration. As the needle penetrates the sensitive pink flesh about the anus, our inmate turned patient flinches noticeably.

I smile.

Then my eyes move to the reason Mildred suggested I visit the prison infirmary. Dangling... if that is the proper term... dangling below the brownish pink circle of Mildred’s attention are a very limited set of balls and a p***s that can barely be seen despite the small scrotal sac. In preparation for Mildred’s handiwork, the inmate has been well shaved about the pubes. Thus there is nothing to camouflage the diminutive organs of the rape victim. Yes, as Mildred suggested, he shows very little of what a woman would expect a male to otherwise proudly display.

“Yes, I see why you called. Can I see his summary file?”

Mildred points to a nearby table.

An inmate’s ‘summary file’ is available to all prison staff and administrators. Basically it contains an encapsulation of everything prison personnel should know about an inmate in order to best keep him incarcerated without incidents of endangerment. Biographical data, criminal background, terms of sentencing, and most importantly a history of encounters with staff and other inmates... particularly incidences of violence... are all listed. The summary file divulges everything and can make the life of a prisoner quite daunting. The merest bite, kick and scratch is permanently listed and divulged to all. An inmate’s background is an open book.

I read...

Samuel B. Perkins... age 19, 5 foot 4 in height, 125 pounds, original crime... shoplifting. Attempted escapes... scuffles with guards... fighting... have relegated a simple sentence of six months in minimum security to many years of the most stringent incarceration that the state can offer. I note that he is an orphan. Shuffled from foster home to foster home as a youth. No known family. His file suggests that his only visitor at the minimum security facility was his attorney... and that was months ago. Even his legal counsel has abandoned this malefactor who is obviously maladjusted, malcontent... well... mal everything. Newly transferred, now Samuel B. Perkins must confront me! No one will ever know what happens to Samuel B. Perkins. And if by some chance his status became known... no one would care.

Some inmates just have no luck.

My name is Dr. Mary Dawson and my job is to change lives. I am the resident psychologist at the huge state penitentiary. And though my vocation is to encourage the incorrigible... transform recalcitrant males to ‘model’ citizens... I am really nothing more than a well educated baby sitter for those who would... were they members of the animal kingdom... be euthanized as too dangerous to domesticate.

Yet I try. And with failure after failure a woman of my ilk needs occasional diversion to renew the spirits. Term it recreational pursuits. So when Dr. Mildred comes across a Samuel B. Perkins, she knows to contact me. And I am grateful to be called from the deep dark chamber where I spend most of my day.

As Dr. Mildred’s needle pricks and nimble fingers suture I move to the far end where the head and face of the hapless Samuel B. Perkins lie in ignominy. Despite his notorious past, he is

embarrassed to be restrained nude and have his privates so thoroughly exposed to the female gender. I am amused to find that this young criminal actually blushes as I brush a hand along the smooth relatively hairless flesh of his back then reach under to tweak a n****e.

“Hey!” he protests.

His deliciously naive reaction brings another smile. He is helpless and most vulnerable... physically and mentally. Samuel B. Perkins has a baby face that belies the nastiness listed in his file. Samuel B. Perkins is slender with limited muscling and a cute backside that needs no further examination. Samuel B. Perkins is delightfully pugnacious. Samuel B. Perkins is mine.

My recreation begins.