to the Cell

Garrett’s thoughts raced as the two guards escorted him out of the therapy room and back toward his holding cell. The sterile hum of the AudioTuring device still echoed faintly in his ears, though it was the guards’ mocking voices that truly lingered in his mind.

The two women flanked him, each wearing the standard navy-blue Havenbrook Correctional Facility uniform, though their confident strides and sneering expressions made it clear they owned every step.

The taller of the two, Officer Latoya Harris, was imposing, with strong shoulders and a commanding presence. Her dark skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and her sharp, almond-shaped eyes missed nothing. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, and the faintest smirk tugged at her lips as she glanced at him.

Beside her, Officer Brianna “Bree” Jones was shorter but just as formidable. Her dark curls framed a face with high cheekbones and an almost playful malice in her gaze. Unlike Latoya, whose movements were measured and deliberate, Bree had a casual, cocky swagger that made her taunts feel personal.

“Did you enjoy your little session, Silver?” Bree drawled, her tone dripping with mockery. “They’re gonna fix you up real nice. Maybe even teach you how to keep your mouth shut.”

Latoya chuckled, her deep voice adding weight to the ridicule. “Mm-hmm. A few weeks with the doc, and you’ll be a good little white boy. Ain’t that right, Bree?”

“Cuck in training,” Bree quipped, laughing as they pushed him forward.

Garrett clenched his jaw but didn’t respond, his mind racing instead. He remembered hearing them talk about him before. Not today—but last week.

One Week Ago

It had been late, and Garrett had been sitting quietly in his cell when the sound of Bree and Latoya’s voices drifted down the hallway. They hadn’t realized how loud they were speaking, or maybe they hadn’t cared.

“Yeah, he’s getting assigned to that therapy program,” Bree had said, her tone dripping with amusement. “Think he’ll last? Or will he break the second the doc gets in his head?”

Latoya had laughed. “Oh, he’ll break. They always break. They’ll turn him into a good little cuck, just like they’re supposed to. Ain’t that what this place is for?”

Garrett had leaned against the wall, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. Every word had been like gasoline on a fire. He’d been angry before, sure, but this—this was humiliation on a new level.

He’d wanted to yell, to throw something, to shove their taunts back in their faces. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d **** himself to breathe, to think.

Anger was useless without a plan.

_______________

Now, as the two women shoved him back into his cell, Garrett kept his head low, feigning submission. He knew the game they were playing and had decided to play it better. For now, he could let them think they were winning. He could play the quiet, docile inmate.

But the truth? The truth was that one day soon, they wouldn’t be mocking him. They’d be answering to him.

“Cucks, huh?” he thought bitterly as the cell door slammed shut behind him. His lips curled into a slow, dark smile as he lay back on the hard cot. “We’ll see who’s laughing then. You won’t be calling me names when you’re crawling to do what I say and Both of you will **** on my Cock.”

__________________

Lying there in the dim cell, Garrett allowed himself a moment of calm. The plan had worked—he’d managed to subvert Dr. Wong, setting the first pieces of his **** into motion. But the memory of the guards’ laughter ignited a familiar anger in his chest.

They’d underestimated him. Everyone had.

He thought back to the hours he’d spent at the prison’s computer terminal, pretending to research coursework for his "rehabilitation program." In reality, he’d been devouring everything he could find about thought manipulation, psychological techniques, and subliminal messaging. He’d found obscure forums, cracked open restricted files, even downloaded experimental audio frequencies to study.

Most of it had been dry and technical, but he’d been ****. And it had paid off. By the time his session with Wong came around, he knew exactly how to exploit the AudioTuring device.

“You won’t make me weak,” he thought, his hands curling into fists. “I’ll make you regret even trying.”

_____________

For now, though, he needed to keep his head down. The guards would keep mocking him, the system would keep trying to crush him, but he had an edge they didn’t expect. Every session with Wong would bring him closer to his intermediate goal.

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. They thought they were breaking him, but they were just handing him the tools to destroy everything they valued.

And it all started with her. My Little chink therapy slut and her Devices will be the thirst step…

As Garrett drifted into a restless sleep, visions of Havenbrook's elites bowing to him played vividly in his mind.