All American Boy Grows Up To Become Jailhouse Slut
by: Steve Matyas

 

As a typical American boy, I’ve always loved sports. Especially football. My favorite team growing up was the Denver Broncos. And the team I always despised was the Green Bay Packers.

Circumstances led me to live in Wisconsin after years of travelling around the States. I was, of course, in a small minority in not being a Packer fan, but I tried to make the best of things and enjoyed the give-and take of being different. I always bet against the Packers and made some money and lost some money. But the most fun was always betting something different.

After a few instances of being forced to shave half my beard or half my head, or seeing my friends do the same, my friend Randy and I set up a bet in which the loser was forced to wear a dress or skirt on the Sunday following a Packer game depending on the outcome. If the Packers lost, he had to don the female attire and if they won, I had to. The loser had to go out in public and be seen by at least one other person.

The first time I lost, I put on a long denim skirt and went to a local grocery store. The woman running the register gave me a strange look, so I explained the bet to her and she laughed and told me I was a good sport, but that I needed to accessorize better. The next time I lost, I wore a shorter skirt and a pair of heels and she said I looked better. But she pointed out that I had nice legs and suggested a pair of fishnet hose. Naturally, after my next loss, I tried the fishnets and she loved it.

Besides going to the store to be seen, I was also in the habit of doing my laundry on Sunday mornings. I was usually the only one in the laundromat early on Sunday morning, so wearing a dress or skirt was no problem. One morning, though I was dressed in a short black skirt, high-heeled boots, and sheer nylons. As I bent over to pull my clothes from the washer, I heard footsteps behind me and found myself being pushed forward onto the top of the machine. My skirt was wrenched up, my pantyhose were pulled roughly down, and my legs were forced apart. Before I knew it, I felt something hard buried deep into my ass. My hips were forced into the front of the machine and allowed to go back in a rhythmic fashion. After what felt like hours, I felt hot liquid squirting deep into me and the presence in me was removed.

After listening to footsteps running out of the building, and taking a few minutes to think, I realized that I had been raped. I staggered to a phone and called the police. A squad car showed up within minutes and a policeman came in and asked me what the problem was. I explained what had happened and asked for help. He surveyed the scene and told me to pull up my pantyhose and wait in his squad car.

After a while the policeman, who introduced himself as Mike, came out and told me he had been checking the security tape which the laundromat had been running. He said that it showed me being fucked, but it also showed the man fucking me shoving some bills into my skirt pocket. He said if this was true, it was a case of prostitution rather than rape. I protested, but when I checked my pocket, I found found several twenty dollar bills. Mike told me I had two choices: either face a prostitution charge or let matters go. I felt I had no choice but to let it go.

Mike drove me home and told me he believed my story, but his hands were tied. He said that I should avoid going out in public dressed as I was or face further problems. When I explained that the reason I was wearing a skirt was because of a lost bet, he said he understood and that if I was going to do it in the future, I should let him know and he would keep an eye out for me. I told him that I was too embarrassed to tell my betting friend what had happened and I would probably need his help in the future.

The next time the Packers won and I was supposed to wear a skirt out, I called Mike and asked him to help me. He said that he would, but that in order to cover himself with his boss, I needed to do more. When I asked him what he meant, he said I needed to not only wear a dress, but get completely dressed as a female, including a bra and wig. This way, he said, he could claim he was protecting a woman at risk. I did as he said, and was vastly relieved to have him sit in the parking lot the whole time I did laundry.

After a few weeks of this, I showed up at the laundromat to find Mike waiting for me with a woman in his car. He explained that she was in jail on a drug charge and was a beautician by trade. He said that he brought her there to help me with my hair and makeup, so that I would look even more authentic, adding that his sergeant was suspicious of his watching me and would probably check up on him. So while my laundry was being done, the beautician made me up and styled my hair, leaving me looking like a cute girl. When we saw Mike’s sergeant cruise by, we both blew him kisses and waved.

The beautician showed me how to make myself up and do my own hair and I practiced on myself and her until I was an expert.

Mercifully, football season ended and I tried to forget the whole thing.

The next season, my buddy proposed the same bet and I tried to talk him out of it. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I couldn’t bear to tell him why I wanted out. So we set the same terms and I waited for the first Packer victory with a heavy heart. When it happened, I called Mike and asked if he was still watching out for me. He assured me he was and I prepared for my first trip out. I shaved all my body hair and donned a green velvet dress and spike heels. I made myself up and teased my hair into a fashionable do. When I got to the laundromat, I was comforted by the sight of Mike’s squad car in the lot and went in. As I finished loading the washer, I heard footsteps behind me and a voice said, "Long time, sweetheart. Where’ve you been hiding?"

I turned around and saw a man I didn’t know leering at me. He said he was the one who had raped me the year before and was back for more. I stammered that I had a cop in the parking lot watching me and he just laughed. He reached out and grabbed the front of my dress, ripping it and exposing my silk teddy. Just then, the door burst open and Mike came charging in. He pulled the pervert away from me and cuffed his hands behind his back. I was so relieved that I collapsed onto the floor.

After leading the pervert to his car, Mike came back in and found me on the floor. He bent over, lifted me, and carried me to a chair. He gently stroked my hair and assured me everything was fine. I raised my eyes and was faced with the sight of a bulge in his uniform pants. He looked down, chuckled, and said if I wanted to show my appreciation, I probably knew how. I was so relieved and ready for all this to be over that I unthinkingly zipped down his pants, pulled out his erection, and took him into my mouth. I had never done anything like this before and almost choked when he shot into my throat, spitting his juice all over his pants. He just shook his head and said., "Maybe next time will be better."

The next time the Packers won and I had to dress up, Mike was waiting inside the laundromat for me. He explained that the man who had assaulted me was claiming it was all my fault and wanted Mike to testify for him. He said my only option was to meet him every week and service him. Only this would buy his silence. I reluctantly agreed and sank to my knees to suck him off. When he came this time, he grabbed the back of my head and held me against him so I had to swallow every drop.

After a few weeks of regularly sucking Mike off, I walked out of the laundromat one morning only to be arrested for public lewdness. The arresting officer explained that the laundry’s videotapes contained conclusive evidence of my activities. I was taken to the station and booked. After a few hours in a cell, Mike came in and said there was nothing he could do to help. I was being charged with public lewdness,

Prostitution, and disturbing the peace. He said I could fight the charges and risk public exposure and ridicule, or cooperate with the department. When I asked what cooperation entailed, he kissed me and said I would see.

Soon a sergeant walked in and asked Mike what I wanted to do. He looked at me and answered that I wanted to cooperate. The sergeant told him to leave and waited until the cell door slammed shut. Then he dropped his pants, told me to lie face down on the cot, and flipped my skirt up over my hips. He ripped my hose and panties down, spread my legs and plunged into me. I buried my face into the cot and tried to forget what was happening as he thrust against me. Before long, he shot and pulled out. I heard him leave and was reaching down to pull up my stockings, but before I could, more footsteps sounded and I was pinned down once more. Again my ass was entered and probed and again I felt hot juice shooting into me. This was repeated time and again until I finally passed out.

I was awakened by Mike’s voice and the feel of a package being dropped onto my back. Groggily, I sat up and as juice seeped out of my ass, I reached behind me to find a large packet of white powder. Mike told me it was top-quality coke and it was all mine if I kept quiet about what had happened. Furthermore, he said, if I would agree to be the stationhouse slut, I could have enough to make me rich. I told him I needed some time to think about it and he left.

After a half hour, Mike came back and I told him I would go along on a couple of conditions. When I outlined my demands, he quickly agreed and let me go.

I used the money from that first bag to quit my job and buy myself a good slutty wardrobe. Since then, as per our agreement, I have been given enough coke to buy a house and a nice car. I’m available to Mike and his co-workers three weeks a month but I’ve never had to pull a train again. The most cops I have to do in one day is four and I only take on more than one at a time if one of them is female. Any time a female gets booked, I have the right to get "arrested" and put into her cell overnight. Once a year, I get a free vacation to a beauty spa where I get a thorough makeover.

Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about the future. A few days ago, I was servicing the booking sergeant when a young boy was brought in. His tight ass and Jagger-like lips made me realize that I’m not getting any younger. Maybe I’ll get myself booked and put into his cell so I can train him to take over for me. After all, Lou Reed was probably thinking of me when he wrote, "but she never lost her head, even when she was giving head".

 

 

*********************************************
© 2001 by Steve Matyas. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.