Bonnie was a bad girl. She'd been a criminal all her life. She was serving twenty years. James looked over her file once more. "You're sure she's a good candidate?"
"Darn tootin." The warden said in a hushed voice below his long brimmed hat. He didn't quite like how little James talked to him, but the money was convincing. "She's been causing trouble all over mah prison. You think you can reform her?"
"No promises. Again, whether this candidate is part of a control group or not is out of my hands."
"Well, it shur would be helpful." The warden shook his head. "What'l ya do to er?"
"The process is patented." James spoke judgmentally. The Warden nodded in disappointment "Bonnie Crate." He went back to the file. "If she shows good behavior, she's due to be let out on parole in two years."
"No use'in praying for that." The Warden chuckled. "Hellion's been a bitch since she was born. She' prolly spit in the face thah the parol officer."
"Probably." James admitted. "But lets see what we can do."
"Hey," The Warden coughed, "A man ah mine wont walk right for the rest of his life cause ah her. You reckon you can tell me if this here treatment is, well," He sighed, "I don't want her coddled er nothing for her behavior is all. You say she could get parole in a month if this treatment takes. She deserves worse than her sentence, trust me-"
"I can't reveal details." James he tapped anxiously on the desk before rising to leave, "But between you and me, I can tell you," James couldn't resist popping a smile, "It wont be comfortable."
"In that case, I hope you give er a double dose. All's she got to do is sign a consent form?"
"Yes." The Warden held the door for James. "Thank you. Your second payment is in the mail."
"My pleasure." The Warden smiled an evil smile.
--
Bonnie Crate had a problem with authority. Even though she knew it was her ticket out of prison, she found it hard to fill out the form. She filled out her name and information. Five foot five, long bright brown hair, age twenty nine, freckles across her body like mud splattered on the back of a pickup truck. She had green eyes poisoned with a mottled brown. She had the muscles of her father but the curves of her mother. In school they'd call her "Milk Crate" Bonnie. She tried to take it as a complement, but her temper took control in times like that. If she wasn't the prettiest girl in school before, by the time she graduated, she'd certainly messed up enough of the competition to rise in the ranks. Boys don't like girls broken noses too much. She worked out every day to stay tough, but no matter how lean she got she never lost what her mother gave her.
Even after all that she paused where she needed to sign her name. It said she could leave whenever she wanted, All she had to say was "Stop". Strange phrasing that was. It didn't say exactly what "treatment" she'd be getting. But if she could get out a year earlier she'd take that risk. She signed her name and was led to the testing chambers.
The room made her think she was inside a block of cement. There was a chair between two pillars, about a meter apart from the other, and there was a camera in each of the top corners. Otherwise, nothing. Loudspeakers called out, "Sit in the chair." The voice was deep and commanding. Her grip clenched. Stay cool Bonnie, stay cool. She obeyed with a huff, relaxing in the seat. "Thank you." Said the voice. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "In front of you, on the floor, there are manacles. Lock yourself in." She looked down and saw two cuffs of steel riveted to the floor.
"Fuck that." She said on instinct.
"You may leave at any point you wish." The voice continued. "I will alert the warden that you have failed the prerequisites-"
"I didn't fail at shit!" Bonnie shouted out. She grumbled and leaned down. He was lucky she was so flexible. She had to squat around the chair, but she was able to put her forearms under the cuffs and lock them in place. She locked the first easily; the other seemed to fall into place with the force of gravity. The steel clanged solemnly. She realized how hard it was to move. She felt regret immediately and began fighting against the binds, "Shit!" She cursed. After trying for a minute to loosen the locked binds she grunted in shame. She was an idiot. Poor impulse control was how she got caught in the first place. Her jeans strained and her white tank top was riding up her belly.
"If you would like to be released, you may ask at any moment."
She hated that voice. She didn't want any help from it. "Let's just get this over with." She grunted. She was very uncomfortable. To stay sitting, her haunches were in the air and her legs were spread wide. Her elbows supported most of her weight.
The door opened. She turned her eyes but could not see past her own fucking fat ass. She seethed. The chair was moved back and she wobbled, "W-Woah!" Then, two strong arms picked up her legs from the ground, "Ahh!" She yelped as she felt her ankles gripped by iron. Her legs were spread a meter wide, each latched to a pillar about chest height above the ground. "What the hell!" The man behind her could see down her shirt, "What are you doing!"
She heard the chair scratch upon the floor and felt her waist on another waist. The man sat in the chair and placed her hips on his lap. She could feel her weight supported once more.
"If at any point you wish to fail at this opportunity, I remind you, all you have to do is say 'Stop'."
The mans voice was strong. It reminded her of her fathers voice. She grit her teeth. "Fuck you!" She felt her waistband loosen as her belt fell to the ground. "What the fuck!" She felt her pants loosen even more when she heard a ripping, cutting sound. "What's going on?" He was stripping her like a hunter skins a kill. She felt cool air over her neithers as her drawers were cut off at the seams. She felt the cold steel knife on her bare flesh sliding without restraint. Her panty clad ass faced the stranger. She almost screamed for him to stop before she realized that that is what he expected. That is what he wanted. He wanted her to fail. Then she'd be in prison for another year. She bit her lips as the last shreds of her jeans were removed from her ankles. "You're a real pervert you know that?" She spat, unable to see her tormentor. She was shivering from cold. "You can't get a girl so you trick em into your dungeon don't you? You sick fuck!"
She felt a knife reach down and cut her bra. Her tits spilled over her face. "Fuck!" She tried to hide them with her elbows, but only managed to squeeze them together. They swayed just under her chin, almost touching the cold floor. "Jesus Christ!" She felt her shirt naturally fall lower over her head, blinding her. Then she felt the knife finally cleave what was between him as her womanhood. Her panties snapped off against her sensitive skin and she had nothing but a shirt around her face that imprisoned her.
