Chapter 11: The Reprise

My name is Mike and I am standing outside my cell in G Block of the Chelmsford Correction Facility for Men. I am in my late forties and have had a very successful career as a highly paid accountant and money manager. This Facility is not new to me. I have served time here as an inmate previously. I was convicted of aggravated manslaughter for killing a young girl whilst drunk behind the wheel of an expensive car. I served my time and was released on bail after five years. What is unusual is that for most of my time in Chelmsford I lived a dual life. I was Mike the accountant and confidant of Eddie McManus who had me transformed into Michele, a transvestite prostitute who was forced to service other inmates and prison officials in the notorious E Block, kicking up my earnings to Eddie.

I was rescued, if you can call it that, by an inmate called Davey who kept me as his willing concubine for the remainder of my prison term. This might seem like a strange arrangement, but when the price of your life is servitude as the transvestite 'wife' of a prison inmate or constant violation by prison thugs, then you make take the path of least resistance and pain.

For the last ten years I have been seeing a psychiatrist who convinced me this was the case. After being released from prison I sought physiological counselling to deal with what had happened to me in Chelmsford. My psychiatrist and I worked together trying to mend the abuse, both physical and mental, that I had undergone during my prison term. We agreed that I had succumbed to the world of transvestism as a means of survival whilst I was in prison. That I was in fact a heterosexual male forced to do what I did only because I had no choice.

I have not dressed as a woman for over ten years. I did have urges to transform into Michele on occasion during my first few years of release, but I overcame them. I rebuilt my life, moved to a new city, and started my career over. I became successful and made lots of money. I reinvented myself and reacquired all the trappings of success. Big house, big car, big bank account and lots of beautiful women. I got too greedy. A year ago it became obvious to me that I was in too deep in some shady real estate deals involving the misappropriation of government funds.

I cut a deal with the investigative body that was breathing down my neck. I gave up everyone else involved in my shady scheme for a one year sentence in a low security prison. I would do easy time with white-collar crims. Colour TV, gymnasium, single cell, conjugal visits; it would be a walk in park. It all went to shit when they found out about my previous conviction; "sorry Mike but the deal's off; the best we can do is two years hard time," they said. I took it. Then I found out that my hard time would be done in Chelmsford and the nightmares returned.

When I was driven into Chelmsford Prison eight months ago I was fifteen kilos overweight with a scruffy grey flecked beard and long greasy hair. I had deliberately let myself go so that I would not attract the attention of the predators that I knew lurked within the walls of this shit-hole; particularly the predators of cell block E; particularly Eddie McManus and his crew.

I kept a low profile but made extensive inquiries as to what was going on inside Chelmsford. I was relieved to be assigned to G block; there was no one on G block who had been there long enough to remember me. I was even more relieved to hear that Eddie had died over two years ago and that his empire no longer existed. E Block was now condemned and was boarded up, awaiting demolition. The corrupt and perverted Warden had been replaced and the whole prison had undergone radical reform. I tentatively inquired about transvestite prostitution in the prison and was greeted by bellows of laughter and disbelief. Sure, there were rumours that such things had happened in the dim deep past, but no one really believed them. How could an inmate, even an inmate as infamous as Eddie McManus, operate a string of transvestite prostitutes inside a maximum security prison!

I eventually relaxed and decided to do easy time. I volunteered to assist in the prison education scheme, training inmates in the basics of bookkeeping and accountancy. I went to the gym every day and slimmed myself down, I shaved my beard and started looking after myself. I kept myself to myself outside of the classrooms and cafeteria meal times. I was a model prisoner, quiet, well behaved and compliant. I was stupid! I became complacent. I paid the penalty. And so eight months later I returned to my cell to find my few belongings packed up in a cardboard box and a surly prison officer standing at the door thrusting a piece of paper at me. I took the document and read it. It was an order transferring me to F Block. F Block was where the worst criminals were housed, murderers, rapists and perverts.

"Why," I asked, my voice trembling.

"Well it would appear the Governor's brother has just been indicted for fraudulently using government funds," the guard answered.

"And it would appear that your testimony was crucial to the inditement. Suck's to be you hey Mikey; no more easy time. F Block ain't what it used to be in the old days they say; but it ain't a walk in the park either," he sniggered.

"And it's right next door to E Block; you know all about E Block don't you?" the guard went on.

"What are you talking about; E Block's condemned," I stammered.

"Never mind, I'm just fucking with your mind; pick up your shit and let's go," he ordered.

I settled into my cramped and mouldy cell in F Block. The single cells here were old brick and tile with full-length solid steel doors with a peep hole at eye level and a trap at the bottom to pass food trays and reading matter through during locked downs. I again settled down into the routine of head counts, meals, showers, sleep, more head counts and boredom. No extra curricular activities here; just hard time. Three times a week we were allowed out into the exercise yard. I kept to myself and watched the passing parade of quiet withdrawn men doing hard time. Often there was violence; fights over who knew what, but I stayed away and made no friends.

After another three months in F Block I was nearly a year into my stretch and dreaming of release or maybe even probation. Then one day my door was thrown open and a guard yelled at me.

"Come on out lazy bones; work detail!"

"Work detail. I thought we didn't get the privilege of work on F Block?" I asked.

"You ain't workin' on F Block smart-arse; you're workin' on E Block!" he replied sarcastically.

"New Guv'ner that's taken over; want's that shit-hole knocked down. But first he want's anything of value stripped out of it. You and a few other short timers will be spending your time removing all the plumbing, pipe-work and electrical wiring. Anything that's worth a bob is coming out. So get fucking moving," he scowled.

As I walked over to E Block I felt a sense of foreboding; all of my fears returned. I concentrated on what I had learned in therapy and rationalised the situation. Eddie McManus was dead, E Block was deserted; I will be there with a work detail supervised by prison guards. There are only the ghosts of the past in E Block of Chelmsford Prison. I remembered the ghosts as the work detail clambered through the iron gate set into the fence surrounding the dark hulking building. A sign in large red lettering hung above the gate: 'No Entry — Condemned, ' it read.

The ghosts marched across my mind: 'Iron Bar' Steve who was Eddie's enforcer; Carmel the make-over artist who had turned me into Michele; and her chubby friend Charlotte who had worked alongside me in the transvestite brothel. I actually had a fleeting fond remembrance of Mabel; the old transvestite 'house keeper' who kept our 'work rooms' clean, our makeup topped up, and who took our feminine apparel to be clean and pressed. Then I remembered the string of brutal men who had used me and any fond remembrances disappeared in a cloud of bitterness. Those bastards had degraded me; forced me into a life of transvestite prostitution. I had endured it and survived. Anyway they were only memories; E Block was dead and empty; fuck the ghosts!

Inside E Block was dark, cold, damp and deadly quiet. The guard led us into the old cafeteria where an assortment of rusty tools lay in a pile. The other inmates didn't even bother picking up any of the old tools, they moved off in groups to already assigned workplaces. I stood there pale and shivering until the guard turned to me.

"You get to start ripping the fittings out of the bathroom," the surly guard grunted and pointed at me.

I was still shivering when I forced myself to respond.

"Can I work somewhere else; what about the guards offices, I can rip out the wiring. Copper wiring is worth a lot of money." I asked.

"Fuck off! What do you think this is; a fucking holiday? Get those fucking tools and get your arse down to the communal bathroom. I've been told you know the way," he sniggered.

What did that mean? I was starting to panic. The fear returning, knowing I was going back to the place where my nightmare on E Block had begun.

"What do you mean you've been told I know the way?" I snapped at the guard.

"Get fucking going or you'll feel my fucking boot in yer arse," he growled

I picked up a wrench and crow bar and skulked off to the bathroom.

The bathroom was a large white tiled communal shower and bath area. I looked at the big old bath where Carmel had shaved and scrubbed me before she transformed me into a transvestite for the first time. The ten sinks, over which Eddie had illegally replaced the stainless steel with glass mirrors, were still there. The sinks were rusty and most of the mirrors broken, the shards of glass removed so that inmates couldn't use them as weapons I supposed. I shivered again and went and stood in front of one of the two remaining mirrors. It was covered in grime and years of dust. I rubbed at the mirror and created a swath of clear glass that reflected my own face back at me.

I was ten years older than the last time I had looked in this mirror. My face was now thinner if anything, and there were flecks of grey in my hair but despite letting myself go before I came back to Chelmsford, the months of gymnasium training and ten years of professional health treatments prior to my incarceration kept me looking pretty good. For a guy in his forties I looked pretty good, I grinned to myself.

The grin froze on my face and then turned into a silent scream. Another face was reflected in the mirror. It was Iron-Bar Steve; grinning his hateful smirk which I had hoped never to see again.

"Hello Mike; or should I say Michele?" he sneered.

I turned around shocked. Steve was ten years older but just as menacing. He was tall and rangy and his grey hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore prison issue jeans but he was also wearing none-issue polished black 'biker boots' and an Hawaiian shirt, open to the throat where a gold chain and locket was visible.

"What the fuck ... who ... what the fuck are you doing here?" I stammered.

I just stared into his face dumbfounded.

"Eddies dead; long gone, and I took his place," he said

"I run Chelmsford now. Every fucking thing that makes a buck in this shit-hole is run by me; and I'm always looking for a way to make more," he went on.

I looked at him perplexed, not knowing what to do or say. And then I nearly fainted; from behind the mirrored wall I heard the distinct sound of high-heels clicking on floor tiles. From around the corner of the sink units walked Carmel.

"Well hi honey," she cooed, "Welcome back. You ready to go to work?"

Carmel was wearing a grey suit, the skirt just above her knees, she wore her jacket over a white silk blouse; the outfit complete with tan hosiery and black high-heeled court shoes. Her makeup was heavy but professional and she wore a jet-black wig of shoulder length hair. Gold jewellery glittered in her ears, at her throat and on her fingers. She looked like a gaudy, over-madeup, secretary or hostess.

I turned and tried to run but Steve grabbed me and pulled me back. He slammed me against the sink bench and I collapsed winded. He picked me up and slammed me against the bench again and this time I passed out.

When I woke up I was tied to a chair, still inside the E Block bathroom. Steve was standing in front of me; Carmel stood off to one side smoking a cigarette.

"So as I was saying," Steve went on as if nothing had happened, "I'm back into the girl for hire business."

"The new warden had a change of heart. We're running Chelmsford like it used to be run in the good old days; like, you know, about ten tears ago?"

"It's hard to believe it's been ten years," he sighed, "so many changes."

"So anyway; I decided to reopen the E Block brothel. I've got Eddie's old suppliers back on line and along with the other swag we smuggle in, they provide all the necessary items my girls need. Clothes, makeup, shoes, lingerie; the fucking lot."

"But, I don't understand; E Block is closed, derelict, about to be demolished," I stammered.

"That's just a front you dopey cunt," Steve went on.

"The work details aren't demolishing the joint; they've actually refitted the cells back into 'workrooms'. You remember the workrooms right?"

"I've already got enough girls working for me to get started. Noncers and homos that were blowing and fucking inmates for fun or chump change. A couple of them have gladly made the switch to becoming transvestite whores. And the others; well I made them an offer they couldn't refuse," he chuckled.

"And when one of them that still refused. Well ... he don't walk so good any more; nor does his wife on the outside either!"

"Carmel here was recruited to take on Mabel's old job; you know the Madame and organiser. She's getting a bit long in the tooth, but she still looks a stunner when she's dressed," he smirked and patted Carmel's pert behind and then slid his hand up her sleek thigh.

He took his hand from under Carmel's skirt and went on.

"But, I can always another mature strumpet. Which brings me to why you are here," he said.

"You looked like shit when you first arrived back at Chelmsford; I had a few of my guys check you out and they said you looked like a fat hairy bear; no way you could be transformed into a transvestite."

"But we kept our eye on you, and now, well ... a good all over shave, some makeup, the right wig and clothes, you will be back to your old stunning self. A little older sure, but some of my punters like the more mature and experienced type," he finished and smiled an evil smile at me.

"You're fucking crazy Steve," I snapped back, "I hated being a transvestite and doing those disgusting things. I only did them because Eddie forced me to. What the fuck makes you think I would ever consider doing that again," I spat at him.

"Fuck you! I'd rather die!" I screamed.

"Well you see, you aren't going to get that luxury; you work for me, just like you did for Eddie, or you spend your remaining time in Chelmsford in purgatory," Steve relied evilly.

"You will be beaten every week. Not enough to put you in hospital and away from my grasp but enough to keep you in constant agony."

"Also, my contacts on the outside are going to get to your sister Angie. They won't kill here straight away; they will have a few hours of fun with her first. And they really know how to have fun," he smirked.

"And of course if your niece happens to be with Angie when they take her? Well, boys will be boys," he laughed and held up a picture. It was a picture of my sister Angie with her fourteen-year-old daughter taken outside of their house.

I paled and nearly passed out again.

"You wouldn't; you couldn't!" I screamed.

Steve slapped me across the face and pushed the photograph into my face.

"I bet they will both scream a lot more than you just did before they are finally disposed of," Steve said flatly, and sat down on the edge of the bench and lit a cigarette.

"You get one chance to say yes or no; I will have your answer now."

Steve pulled a slim cellular phone from his pocket, it is of course highly illegal for inmates to have cell-phones of course, and punched a button.

"Danny, yeah it's me. You ready to go on the thing. Yeah that's it. The daughter's with her? Good. Well stand by and I'll call you in two," he talked into the phone.

"Well that's it Mike, you got two minutes to give me an answer!" he sneered at me.

I was horrified. I either agreed to undergo at least a year of being a transvestite prostitute, or this heathen would have my sister and niece raped and murdered. What choice did I have? I sat there tied to the chair and cried; tears streaming down my face. I couldn't talk, I couldn't do anything other than sob. The horror of the choice I had to make was almost beyond comprehension.

Steve flicked open his phone again and hit a button.

"Hey Danny; enjoy. I want pictures; you know before and after shots," the sick bastard said.

"No! No! No! ... I'll do it! ... I'll do it!" I cried

"Hold on Danny; the job's off. Well I'm sure you can find someone else to meet your needs; just not those two. I still want you to keep an eye on them though, I might change my mind." Steve snapped the phone shut.

"You get the picture Mike?" he barked.

"And don't bother trying to call and tell your sister to pack up and fuck off to wherever because my main man Danny will have her under surveillance. Not all of the time of course; but you will never know when."

"So. Now; where were we? That's right you had just consented to working for me."

"Carmel here will assist you to make your transformation back into Michele."

"And look on the bright side; it's not like I'm asking you to do something that you have never done before is it? From what I remember of that day on the stairwell outside the Guvnor's office you were quite good at what I want you to did!" I slumped in the chair defeated and watched as Steve turned his back to me sauntered off.

"Ok Carmel; get that sorted! I want the place open for business after supper" he yelled back over his shoulder and left me alone with Carmel, the transvestite Madame.