Registered Sex Offender Part 1: Facing Prison

Chip Stockdale sat in the hard chair in the crowded courtroom and listened to the the two attorneys banter about, arguing about this and that technicality. He was still in a state of shock, still finding it tough to place all that was happening into the reality that was his world. His mind wandered. His eyes gazed out the window. He could see the Bradford Pear trees, fully leafed out now, as the wind rustled through their branches.

It was spring in Carolina now, Chip's favorite time of year; but Chip had not enjoyed this spring as he had others. He had been in jail, the youth detention section, since the second week of January. Normally he was wearing shorts by the first of February, but this year his only wardrobe consisted of the orange coveralls provided to inmates of the county jail. By this time of year, mid April, Chip was usually heavily into soccer, having completed the basketball season. Sunday afternoon, from early March until fall frost, would find Chip with Janet, his sister, and his friends, playing tennis. But this year, the only physical activity Chip was allowed was shooting baskets in the exercise yard of the County Jail.

Chip wondered what was going on in his class at school. Of course, if some miracle happened and he were allowed to go back, he would still have to repeat the tenth grade. That hurt a lot, because Chip had been a good student. He had been proud of having done two years in one while still in elementary, meaning that he would still be barely seventeen when he graduated. Now he wondered how he could've been so stupid, and so smart, all at the same time. Now he would never graduate!

Chip liked school, and he particularly liked being fourteen years old and all that went with it: High School, sports, dances, girls, personal freedom. He liked learning, whether it be English Composition or dissecting frogs. He loved his home town, the sleepy little town of Creedmoor, and his home state, North Carolina. He spoke with a soft Southern drawl that everyone, including Chip himself, adored! Everything was right with Chip, it seemed. At fourteen he was more experienced, and in many ways had more than most kids his age, in spite of the fact his parents hardly knew he was alive. And as soon as he was sixteen, Chip would easily have saved enough money for a used motorcycle. And then his entire world had come crashing down around him.

Chip had been in, of all places, a sex education class when the cops arrived. The two uniformed men had walked into the classroom without knocking, whispered something to Mr. Evans, the teacher, who asked Chip to stand. He had done so, whereupon one of the uniforms approached him, spun him around and snapped handcuffs on the astonished boy's wrists while the other read him his rights. Before Chip and his two captors were out the door, the class was buzzing, asking what had happened, why he'd been arrested. Chip wanted to know that too, but all they would tell him was that he'd been accused of child abuse.

That was the last Chip had seen of his school and his classmates. Since that time he had been incarcerated. Avery Gould, his state-appointed attorney, had tried to get him out on bail, but Chip's parents had stated that he no longer had a home with them, that he was no longer their son, so the judge had ruled him incorrigible and homeless, therefore not eligible for bail. And now here he was, having pled guilty of all sorts of terrible things from child molesting to rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor to indecent assault, waiting for all the self-important folks to finish arguing their own particular point so that he could find out how long he was going to have to stay in jail. Not that it mattered, because Chip no longer cared. His life, his family, his home, were all gone. Chip's life, as he knew it, was over. Even if he only got a few months, which was preposterous, he would have to be registered on the Internet database as a convicted sex offender, which would mark him for life. So what the hell did it matter?

He remembered his first conversation with his court appointed attorney. The astonished man had had to stop and explain to the confused boy exactly why he was in jail and not in school with his friends. Chip had no earthly idea, it seemed, that he'd done anything wrong; either that, Avery thought, or he was one hell of a good actor. "If you had only used some sort of protection," Avery lectured. "If you hadn't got that little girl pregnant you just might have got away with the whole thing. As it is, you're guilty as sin in the eyes of the law, so I recommend you plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. You're gonna do jail time, but you might pull a lighter sentence if you own up to what you did."

"I don't mind admitting what I did," Chip agreed. "But, I mean, how can they keep calling me such a terrible person when I didn't know?"
"You didn't know what?" Avery said sarcastically. "You didn't know you were fucking all those girls?"
"No, sir, not that. But I didn't know I could make them pregnant. I mean, I thought I had to be older. My sister said..."
"It doesn't matter what your sister said," Avery barked. "You're the one with the dick, and that makes you the perpetrator. Being a male comes with certain responsibilities. A girl can't rape a boy, you know. It's your responsibility to know what you're doing with that thing. Like it or not, that's the way the system works."

Chip came back to the present long enough to discover that the lawyers were still droning on about God knows what. How could they make such a big deal about a sentence hearing? Chip just wanted the whole thing over with, so he could be locked in his cell and begin serving his sentence. "But," Avery had told him, "you could be sentenced to life! You're convicted of statutory rape!"
"I don't care," Chip had told him. What he didn't tell him was that he had himself been raped the night before by one of the guards in the county jail. But that didn't matter, did it?

Chip looked nervously behind him, scanning the sea of faces. Janet was there, in her usual place. She had never missed showing up whenever Chip had a court appearance. Chip noticed for the first time that she was beginning to show. Her baby, HIS baby, was due in July. He wondered, had wondered from the beginning, what it would call him. Uncle? Daddy? Brother? Then a sob caught in his throat as he realized it would never call him anything, because it would never even know of his existence! It would be born and adopted before Chip was out of jail, assuming he ever did get out. And the same went for the other three he had sired. One, the one that had got him into trouble, was already dead. Its mother was too small to carry a child, they had said, so they had aborted the baby. Neither mother nor father had been given any choice in the matter. The other two were to be adopted just like Janet's. How could he have been so stupid?

"Stand up, Chip!" Avery whispered as he jarred Chip back to the here and now, "It's time!" Absently, more like a zombie than a vibrant healthy teenage boy, Chip rose. It was as if his consciousness was floating somewhere around the ceiling and looking down on the proceedings. The news media would report that the young sex maniac had stood emotionless as he heard his sentence; what they would not report, if they knew at all, was that he was only partly conscious. Chip was about to hear how long his life was to be put on hold, and he wasn't real anxious to hear.

"Young man," the judge said sternly, "I have decided to give you a break, which is more than you gave those little girls. They will carry through life the scars, both physical and emotional, of what you did to them and the results. The only positive thing I can glean out of this entire ugly mess is that you had the decency to face up to your sins and plead guilty to all charges, thereby relieving all your victims of the embarrassment of having to testify. On the assumption that you have indeed seen the error of your ways, and in the hope that you can turn your life around I have decided to sentence you to ten years on each of the twelve charges, all sentences to run concurrently. You are to be taken to the Youth center where you are to remain until you are eighteen, whereupon you will be transferred to an adult facility where you will complete your sentence."

So that was it! Chip would be the ripe old age of twenty-four when he emerged a free man. But Chip had no intention of giving the state ten years of his life. Chip was already learning the ropes of life 'inside,' and already learning there were ways to get yourself killed, lots of them, if that was what you wanted.

In what seemed like only seconds, Chip found himself in a large shower room with five other teenagers. They were naked and washing themselves, having been relieved of their orange coveralls as soon as they arrived at their new home. When Chip hesitated to strip, he'd been told gruffly that there was no place here for modesty or personal dignity. "As long as you're here," the indifferent guard lectured, "you do as you're told, when you're told, regardless. And that means if you're told to go to the front gate stark naked and wiggle your dick at traffic, you do it! In a snowstorm!"

After their shower, the boys were herded, still naked, out of the building and across the yard to a small building on the other side of the compound. From the surroundings and the smells, Chip surmised that it was some sort of a medical clinic. Here they were told to sit in the waiting room and wait their turn. "And try to keep your hands to yourselves," the guard commented. "There'll be lots of time to play grabass and pulldick when you're in your dorm." Chip had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't take him long to find out.

"How long you in for?" the kid next to Chip asked.
"Ten years," Chip answered absently.
"Holy fuck!" the boy whistled. "You musta got Judge Adams!"
"Uh-huh."
"First time here?"
"Uh-huh, You?"
"Naw, this is my third. But this time I got five years. My name's Lenny Johnson. What's yours?"
"Chip. Chip Stockdale."

"Well, Chip Stockdale," Lenny said as he grabbed Chip's genitals roughly, "you ever suck a black cock?"
"Never sucked any!" Chip answered indignantly as he recoiled, brushing Lenny's hand away.
"Well," Lenny chuckled, "you're in for a double treat! I don't suppose you ever took it up the ass either?"
"Absolutely not! And I'm not gonna, either!" Already Chip had forgotten, or blanked from his mind, the two times he'd been raped in the county jail. Lenny smiled knowingly. "Well," he whispered, "you better not let it get around that you're a virgin. Best thing you can do is be my momma, then I'll take care o' ya."

Chip had read and heard enough that he knew exactly what Lenny meant. "I'm not gonna be anyone's momma," he said defiantly. Lenny's strong arm had planted itself firmly in Chip's lap, and there seemed little that Chip could do about it. Chip was humiliated that his sex was being manipulated in front of everyone there, doubly so when he felt himself getting hard; but no one seemed to notice at all. No one, that is, but Lenny. "Seems to me," Lenny observed as he gave Chip's growing member a squeeze, "your dick's willing, even if you aren't."

"Forget it!" Chip ordered as he tried vainly to remove the black hand. Then he noticed that most of the boys seated around the room were taking liberties with each other. Appalled, he got up quickly when his name was called and went into the examining room.

"Well," the man dressed in white commented pleasantly when they were along, "Aren't you special!" He directed Chip to an examining table. Chip hopped on, then allowed his legs to be placed in the stirrups and strapped there. "You got anything you know about?" the man asked neutrally as he felt and poked about Chip's abdomen.
"No, sir," Chip answered.
"Ever had an AIDS test?"
"Yes, sir. When I was first arrested." Chip felt a gloved finger go up his anus as far as it could reach.
"And when was that?" The finger probed about, causing Chip to grunt uncomfortably.
"January." The finger withdrew.
"Negative?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. That's all I wanted to know."

To Chip's utter surprise and humiliation, the man, who later told him his name was Garth, locked the door, then dropped his pants and raped Chip as he lay strapped down. "You ever had this before?" he asked as he drove his member unceremoniously home.
"Yeah," Chip grunted, "Twice, in the... uh... county jail."
"Like it?" He gave a mighty thrust that caused Chip to catch his breath.
"No!" Chip grunted. The man, fortunately not very well equipped, was pumping violently, his face getting red.
"You will," he gasped, then gasped again as he ejaculated inside Chip.

"Keep away from the other kids," the medic ordered as Chip wiped himself clean. "I can make it real easy on you, if you keep yourself for me." He took a blood sample, had Chip pee in a bottle, and the examination was over. Chip wanted to ask him if he examined all the new kids the same way, but he knew better. He knew something else now too. He knew that indeed his dignity had been left at the gate, and that there was no point in fighting it. He had been fondled openly in front of a room full of people, then raped violently by a so-called medical assistant. There was nothing he could do about either event and he knew it; nothing, this is, except brush it off as one of those things that happens as a normal course of events.

"Now let's see," the large, nasty looking sergeant said as he scanned his clipboard. "We have four new guests in our little resort today." He flipped a couple pages, then stopped. "Which one is Stockdale?"
"I.. I am, sir," Chip answered nervously, raising his hand.
"My, my, aren't you the randy little fucker!" the man said sweetly, sarcastically. "Father of four, four different mothers, at 14 years old. I'm impressed. So do we call you Daddy, or sister fucker, or what?"
"Ch-chip'll do fine," the boy replied. He was so frightened now that he felt an almost irresistible urge to wet himself. Somehow he managed to hold it.
"How's about I call you Charles, or Charlie?" the sergeant said sarcastically. "I'm not much for nicknames."
"That's not my given name," Chip corrected. My given name is Chip."
"What kinda fuckin' name is that?" the sergeant demanded. "That's a nickname, not a proper name!"
"I don't know, sir," Chip replied, fighting hard to keep his urgent desire to cry and pee his pants; either that or deck the sarcastic son-of-a-bitch who was harassing him. "All I know is that's my name."

"It says here you're quite the little student," the guard continued. "You'll be wanting special status I suppose because you're a brain."
"No, sir. I just..."
"Well, want it nor not you've got yourself special status, mister! We don't like sex offenders and rapists in here. I suspect before long you'll have a better understanding what it's like to be on the other end. When that happens don't come crying to me, ‘cause I don't wanna hear it. Do I make myself clear, Chip the sister-fucker?"
"Y-yes, sir," Chip replied. To his great relief the sergeant grew weary of his game and went down the line, tormenting the other three newcomers. After he'd satisfied himself that he'd totally humiliated and frightened them all, the boys were led to the laundry to pick up a change of clothes, then escorted to their dorms, still clad only in briefs, and instructed to get dressed.

When Chip was finally dressed and in the dorm, he lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling. He wanted to cry so badly that his eyes burned, but he couldn't. There were nineteen other boys in the dorm, and Chip knew without being told that to be seen crying was just not the thing to do. His butt was sore from the 'examination'; his heart was aching to talk to Janet, but it would be several weeks before she would be allowed to visit, if she were allowed at all. He missed his mom and dad. They hadn't had a real great relationship, but it'd been better than none at all, which is what he had now. And he missed Kim. God, how he ached to touch her silken hair, her soft shoulders! How he would love to kiss her sweet lips just once more! And then he would cheerfully die.

But Chip had to admit it felt good to at least be dressed in clean clothes again, and clothes he was more accustomed to: cotton pants, prison brown's he would learn they were called even though they looked gray to him, and T-shirt, with new, comfortable briefs underneath that felt infinitely better than the ill-fitting boxer's that he'd been given in the county jail.

"You smoke?" one of the black boys in a nearby bunk asked.
"Sorta," Chip answered.
"Whadda ya mean, sorta? You smoke or not?"
"I mean I started smoking in jail while I was waiting for my hearing, but I don't have any, so I guess I don't smoke."

"Got anyone outside sending you money or smokes?"
"Nope."
"Here, then, have one o' mine."

Chip propped himself up in the bunk and accepted the cigarette gratefully, then paused as he reached for the match that was held out for him. "Wait a minute," he said cynically, "what's the price?" Chip was learning fast!
"No price," the boy said, "I just wanna be friends."
"Yeah, and maybe shove your dick up my ass, right?"
"Naw. Believe me, I had that done to me enough, I don't care if I ever see another dick again, or another butt for that matter. I just thought you needed a friend. And I sure do!"
"Thanks," Chip said again as he lit the cigarette.

"My name's Steve," the boy said as he offered his hand. Chip followed the slender hand and arm with his eyes, coming to rest on a very young looking black boy, extremely good looking, and somehow not hard and crude looking like most of the other boys in the dorm. He was surprised to realize that he liked what he saw - a lot!

"I'm Chip," he answered as he took the hand that was offered, "Sorry about that other, but it's just..."
"Yeah, I know. They pick on us chickens."
"Chickens?"
"Yeah. That's what they call the younger kids. That's why we kinda stick together."

Steve told Chip that he had just turned fourteen a month ago, and had been here just over six months. He had a long sentence, having killed his father for beating his mother. Chip instantly sensed a kindred spirit. He was sensitive and caring, considerate and feeling. And, Chip thought with some surprise that he'd even noticed, he's really good looking! Cute, even! But whatever the reasons, regardless of their individual motives, Chip and Steve became instant friends.

Secretly Chip was already thinking that if boy/boy sex was as rampant as it seemed, he might as well pair off with someone who would make it easy, and Steve was certainly easy to look at. But these thoughts he kept to himself, filing them away for future reference.

The two boys talked and smoked until lights out, then continued their conversations the next day. "They'll give you a few days to chill out," Steve explained, "then they'll try to get you into all sorts of rehabilitation programs."
"Why?" Chip said bitterly, "I don't need rehabilitation, cause I ain't goin' nowhere. I got ten years to serve."

"Go!" Steve ordered. "Cooperate. Kiss butts. You make 'em feel good, show 'em that their plan's working, and you'll be out long before your sentence is up."
"Really? But the judge..."
"Yeah, I know. The judge said no parole. But there's all sorts of ways to kill a cat, and they need the space. You'll be out in a year or two if you get rehabilitated."

It was a full week later when Chip found himself in the tiny office of Ed Barker, a psychologist. Steve had prepared Chip for Ed, saying that he was a cool dude and that Chip should be straight with him. So much for Steve's opinion, Chip thought, If first impressions are important, I'm not impressed.

Ed sat at his small desk, leafing through the files that were the Department of Corrections' summary of the life and loves of Chip Stockdale. He scribbled a few notes which Chip couldn't see well enough to read, uttered the odd "Hmmmmm!" or "Uh-huh!", but made no indication whatsoever that Chip was sharing the same planet. Having nothing else to do, Chip inspected the top of Ed's head, noting with amusement that the thinning hair revealed a less-than-clean scalp, with an abundance of dandruff.

"Well!" Ed exclaimed so suddenly and loudly that Chip near jumped out of his chair, "how has your first week gone?"
"Okay, I guess," Chip answered as he accepted a cigarette from Ed.
"Make any friends yet?"
"Uh-huh. Steve Jordan."
"Oh, yeah, Stevie! He's a nice kid. How are you getting along with the rest of your dorm?"
"Ignoring 'em, mostly. Seems all they want to do is mess with us younger guys, and I'm not interested."

You've been able to fight 'em off?"
"Yes, sir, all but the staff."
"Staff?"
"Yes, sir. When I first came in."
"Oh, you mean Garth! Well, don't worry about him, because he got caught yesterday. He won't be bothering you any more."

Chip wanted to know more, but Ed would tell him nothing. It was obvious that they had known for some time of Garth's unique way of welcoming newcomers, but they had allowed the practice to go on until Garth became so blatant that they had to do something. Chip wondered if he would get the same treatment from the judge as he had.

"First of all," Ed was saying, "we need to get you back in school. That okay with you?"
Chip started to shake his head, then he remembered Steve's advice. "Yes, sir," he replied, "if that's possible."
"Well," Ed explained, "we can't put you in the mainstream, at least not yet. But it looks like you're a good student, so I'm gonna accelerate you as much as I can."
"Mainstream?" Chip questioned.
"Sure. After you're here a while, if you keep your nose clean, you can get passes to go out to public school."

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Chip said bitterly, "ya can't do that! I'm dangerous, ya know! I'm liable to fuck every girl in the school! Ya better not let me loose!" Chip didn't know why he'd had that outburst, but he got no reaction from Ed. He simply let Chip get it out of his system, then said quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Chip demanded defiantly. "What's there to talk about?"
"I think there's a lot to talk about, Chip." That same calming voice that Chip was warming to, in spite of himself. "I think there's a hell of a lot to talk about. You've been convicted of rape, child abuse, molesting, incest! You've gotten four girls pregnant in the last few months, one of them only twelve years old, another your sister! And yet you're an A student, a good basketball and soccer player, and you even play tennis with some skill. You've already had part time jobs, and your bosses have only the highest praise for your work. Chip, I think there's a helluva lot to talk about. You're not a rapist, or a child abuser! Jesus Christ, Chip, you're still a child yourself! I don't know what happened, but I'd like to, if you'd care to tell me."

Chip did care to tell him. Chip wanted to talk about it so badly he ached all over! But he wasn't sure himself how he'd got to where he was now; and at the moment he was crying so hard he couldn't tell anyone anything. "Cry it out," Ed said in that same calm voice. "Better here than out where you'll be seen by the population. Oh, and by the way, in case Steve hasn't already told you, whatever goes on in here, stays in here."

When Chip had regained his composure, he sat quietly for a long time. Ed said nothing, just sat and stared at him, which made Chip extremely uncomfortable. Finally Ed said softly, almost in a whisper, "I understand that your parents have disowned you?"

Chip nodded.

"And your sister?"
"No, sir. She'll be visiting me as soon as she's allowed."

"Is she still at home?"
"Yes, sir. But she says as soon as she's eighteen she's leaving."
"I'll... I'll see if I can't get the waiting period waived since you were in jail all during your trial. Would that help?"
"Yes, sir. I miss her..."
"Do you love her?"
"Of course I do! She's my sister!"
"I mean, do you... are you in love with her?"

Chip had never been asked such a question before, had never even thought about it. What they had done, they had done because it was a long standing habit that developed as they'd developed. It hadn't been an expression of love, just a game that got out of hand. A 'roller coaster,' his lawyer had called the whole affair. "I... I dunno," Chip answered pensively, "I... I think maybe I am."
"Tell me about it," Ed said softly, "Please?"

Chip sat again for several minutes, working backwards in his mind to the point where it had all started, if indeed he could find that point at all. As his mind raced backward over the months and years, it became more clear to him. He started to see how it had all happened, and his regrets melted. It may have been sick and perverted, socially unacceptable and inadvisable, but there was something... something really special, between Chip and his sister.

"Yeah!" he suddenly exclaimed, "Yeah, I do! I do love her! I never even thought of it before, but I do love her!"
"Tell me about it," Ed whispered again.

To be continued...