Midwest Mom Goes to Prison

Chrissy was a fairly typical Mom from the Midwestern U.S. She was married to Derek, her husband of 10 years. They had three daughters together. She still carried a little weight from her babies, but her husband still loved her body. She was 5′ 2″ and 175 pounds, but some of that weight was in her 38C breasts and her plump ass. With dark brown hair and blue eyes, she was still a curvy beauty even after having three kids. They had their first kid before they were even engaged, although they had known each other for several years.

She loved the feel of unprotected sex, and he loved her tight pussy and round ass. The two other kids followed after getting married when their oldest was a little over a year old. She opted to get her tubes tied after they’d had their third, and that only made the sex that much hotter, knowing they could fuck as much as they wanted without having to worry about condoms or anything. Even though they’d been married a little over 10 years, they hadn’t lost that spark. They still made love at least 3 times a week.

She never thought she’d end up doing time. Money was tight after she’d been laid off during the Pandemic of 2020, and all she had done was sell some extra prescription pain medicine that she didn’t need to someone for a little extra money to help her support her family. It wasn’t someone she knew super well that she sold it to, it was an acquaintance from high school. But apparently, he was an undercover cop. She was arrested and charged with Unlawful Distribution of a Controlled Substance.

She was facing up to 10 years in prison, so when she was offered a plea deal that would limit her time to three years, with the possibility of parole after 18 months, she happily took it, after consulting with Derek and her lawyer. After all, her family needed her. Derek was upset about the situation, of course, but he wasn’t mad at her. He knew she was just trying to help the family.

She had to report to prison on a Monday. She had about a month worth of freedom between her official sentencing after the plea deal, and when she had to report. She took full advantage of that time. Her and her husband did several day trips with the kids, and they made love nearly constantly. Knowing they’d both be going without for potentially up to three years, upped their sex drives to the max. They could barely keep their hands off of each other. The time passed too quickly for either of them and soon it was the night before she had to report.

They made love three times that night, making sure they both got their fill before their long abstinence. Well, almost. They made love, one more time the next morning before they left for the prison, as he was going to drive her out. She’d said goodbye to the kids the evening before, as they went to stay with their grandparents for a couple of days so Chrissy and Derek could have some final alone time.

She didn’t wear anything special that morning for the drive, since she knew it would be going into storage once she got to the prison. Just a simple, blue sweatshirt and sweatpants, a gray sports bra and grey boyshort panties, and a pair of tennis shoes. This was what she’d usually wear if she was going for a run, something she did occasionally at the track of their local high school. The only jewelry she wore were a pair of plain stud earrings. She had left her wedding ring safely at home.

As they drove out to the prison, which was about an hour and 15 minutes away from their suburban home, they talked a lot about their lives and their relationship, and he promised he’d be faithful while she was inside, and that he and the kids would visit her every chance they could. Although it would be a little bit, as her lawyer had already advised her that it would be a minimum of at least a month before she’d be allowed any visitors once she was inside. This was a state regulation designed to help inmates get settled into the routine of prison life.

When they got within 20 minutes of the prison, she looked over at Derek again and told him how much she loved him, and then said she wanted to give him one last going away present. He smiled back at her and said, “I love you too Chrissy,” as she reached over and unzipped his jeans. She pulled out his cock, which was already getting hard, and, as they ticked off the final miles to her prison sentence, she jerked him off one last time, making him cum into a restaurant napkin she found in the glovebox of their family sedan.

All too soon they were there. They pulled into a parking lot on the back side of the prison, where a pair of female prison guards met them. One of them had more stripes on her sleeve, so she assumed that was the higher ranking or lead one. She gave Derek one last long kiss goodbye and stepped out of the car.

“Are you Christine Annette Rhodes?” asked the lead guard.

“Yes,” she replied, although thinking it was so odd hearing her full legal first name. Everyone, even her family and closest friends, knew her as Chrissy.

“We’re here to officially take you into custody,” said the lead guard. “Please place your hands on top of the car.”

She followed the command, as the other guard came over and quickly frisked her. After that quick search, the guard instructed her to place her hands behind her back, which she did, and quickly felt the cold steel of handcuffs being locked around her wrists. She mouthed “I love you,” to Derek one more time as the guards turned her around to lead her away into the prison.

They lead her to a small building nearby behind a pair of outer fences. She noticed the large sign above the metal door marked ‘Intake’ as they led her to it. The lead guard radioed into the building saying, “One for Intake,” and a buzzer sounded unlocking the metal door. They led her inside and had her sit down in a chair at a desk just inside the door. On the desk were some file papers, which she assumed were about her. The lead guard sat down at the desk and began reading off one of the papers.

“Christine Annette Rhodes; Age, 33; Hair: Brown; Eyes: Blue; Weight: 175 Pounds. Is that all accurate?” asked the guard.

“Yes,” replied Chrissy.

“OK, we’re about to take you to processing. There you will surrender any possessions including jewelry and clothing and you will be strip searched. After getting dressed in your uniform, you will then have your intake mugshots taken and then you will be escorted to your cell to begin serving your sentence. Do you understand everything I have told you just now?”

She nodded yes, but the guard then lightly scolded her. “I need a verbal reply, and you will address the guards as Sir or Ma’am in your reply.”

Taken aback just slightly, Chrissy replied, “I understand Ma’am.”

“That’s better,” replied the guard. “We will now escort you to processing.”

The guards then helped her up and began walking her down a long gray hallway until they reached another metal door with a large ‘Processing’ sign above it. Again, the lead guard reached for the radio she carried on her hip alongside her baton, handcuffs, and gun. “One for Processing,” she said. Another buzzer sounded, the metal door unlocked, and the guards escorted her inside.

Once inside, there wasn’t much to the Processing room. It was somewhat small and gray, like everything else she’d seen in the prison. On the far side was another metal door that appeared to lead further into the prison, judging by the locking mechanism she could see. In the middle of the room was a small metal table and chair, where another female guard was seated. On that table was a plastic tote, which she assumed was for her belongings. In the far back corner was also a setup for mugshots, with a camera and height charts. ‘They really packed everything into this room,’ she thought to herself as they led her to the table.

Once they reached the table, the guards told her they were going to remove her handcuffs to begin processing her. “Once the handcuffs are removed, you will stand straight with your hands at your sides facing the guard at the table. You will comply fully with her instructions or risk a reprimand on your first day that will be reported to the parole board at your first hearing. Do you understand these instructions?” said the lead guard.

“Yes Ma’am,” replied Chrissy.

After the handcuffs were taken off, she stood as instructed facing the guard at the table. The two guards that had escorted her now retreated into the shadows by the other door she had seen on the far side of the room. The processing guard now began giving instructions. She picked up a small ziplock bag and opened it, then instructed Chrissy to remove her earrings and place them into the bag. She removed them and placed them in the bag as instructed, after which the guard sealed it and marked it with some numbers. Then the real humbling and humiliating part began.

“Next, you will strip down. You will hand me each piece of clothing as I ask for it, and after I check it, it will be placed in this bin for storage until your release. Do you understand this instruction?”

Chrissy choked up a bit as she replied, “Yes Ma’am,” steeling herself for being seen naked by someone other than her husband for the first time in several years, and for the invasive strip search that was soon to follow.

“Remove your shoes and socks,” was the first instruction from the processor. She slipped them off and placed them onto the table. They were inspected and placed into the bin. Next, she was instructed to remove her shirt. She pulled it over her head and placed it onto the table, where the processor checked it, and it went into the bin as well. Her pants were next, and now she was standing there in just her panties and bra while her pants were checked and placed into the bin. The room was rather cold, and her nipples were starting to show through the fabric of her sports bra.

“Remove your bra,” instructed the processor. She crossed her arms and pulled it over her head, then handed it over to be checked as she tried in vain to try to cover her C Cups with her arms. “Hands at your side,” said the processor in a monotone voice as she checked the sports bra over. Chrissy retreated her arms to her sides as she was told. ‘I guess I can officially kiss any shred of dignity and modesty goodbye,’ she thought to herself. The processor completed the check of her bra and placed it into the bin.

“Alright, let’s get those panties off,” came the final instruction. She gulped a bit, steeling herself for all that would come next, hooked her thumbs into the waistband, and dropped them to her ankles. She stepped out of the panties, handed them to the processor, and placed her hands back at her sides, now standing at attention fully nude. She could really feel how cold the room was now.

The processor completed the check of the panties and placed them into the bin. She then read back a list of the items processed. “For new inmate Christine Annette Rhodes, I show one pair of gold stud earrings; one pair of black tennis shoes; one pair of white socks; one blue sweatshirt; one pair of blue sweatpants; one gray bra; and one pair of gray panties. Is that accurate?” she said.

“Yes Ma’am,” replied Chrissy.

“OK, sign at the bottom of this form, accounting for the accuracy of this inventory.” Chrissy reached over and grabbed a pen from the table and signed the inventory paper. The processor then placed the paper into the bin, sealed it, and marked it with some numbers.

“We will now begin the final step, which is the strip search. Please step back from the table and stand at attention with your arms at your sides,” she said. Chrissy followed the directions fully. The processor grabbed a flashlight from her belt and began shining it on Chrissy while giving her instructions.

“Lean your head back and run your fingers through your hair like you’re brushing it out,” was the first instruction. She followed it as best as she could.

“OK, head back forward towards me. Now, lean your head to the left and pull your left ear forward so I can see behind it.” She moved her hair out of the way and pulled down her left ear. “OK, same for the right ear,” said the processor. Again, Chrissy followed the instructions.

“Next, open your mouth, wider, wider, there,” said the processor as she shined the light into her mouth. “Lift up your tongue, let me underneath it. Good, now, hook your thumbs in your mouth and spread it open as far as you can,” was the next instruction. Finally, the processor asked her to flip her top lip to see the inside, then the bottom lip. Again, nothing was found, so that step was over.

Now came the hand check. On the processor’s instructions, Chrissy stretched her hands out in front of her, spread her fingers apart, and turned her hands over so front and back and every crevice could be seen. With nothing found again, the search started to get a little more personal.

“For the next part of the search, I need you to place both hands on top of your head and interlace your fingers together. Let me see your armpits,” said the processor. She complied, but with her armpits being shaved, that check didn’t take long.

“OK, hands back at your side. Now I need to check under your tits. With your left hand, cup your left breast and lift it please.”

She followed the directions, cupping her left tit and lifting it, again revealing nothing hidden. “Great, now lift your right breast with your right hand.” She cupped and lifted it, thinking how humiliating this was, all while knowing she hadn’t hidden anything. But it was about to get much worse.

After seeing nothing under her breasts, the processor now moved further south in her search. “OK, now I need you to place your hands back at your sides and spread your legs shoulder width apart,” she instructed. ‘Here we go,’ thought Chrissy. “Now, place your hands between your legs and pull back your meat curtains, I need to check your pussy and your piss hole.”

‘Oh my god,’ she mused. ‘This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I have to do this,’ she thought in her head, as she reached down and pulled back the pronounced lips of her shaved pussy. The processor shined the light between Chrissy’s legs, then came closer and ducked down to do a closer inspection, shining her light up into her love channel. Finally, after seeing nothing unusual, she proceeded with the next step.

“Next, I need you to turn around with your back to me. Place your hands on your ass cheeks, spread them, squat, and cough.” As Chrissy squatted, she felt her body contract and convulse as she coughed, and she now understood why they have to do that. If she had anything hidden inside of her, it surely would’ve fallen out.

“Alright, stand back up,” said the processor. “Keep facing the other way. Lift up your left leg, show me the bottom of your foot. Good, spread your toes, wiggle them. OK, now, same with the right foot. Lift it, spread the toes, wiggle them. Good, that concludes the strip search.” Chrissy was relieved to hear those words.

“Now, turn around and face me. Hands at your side again. You are to stand right there and wait while I grab your uniform and then we’ll start your mugshots and then get you to your cell so you can get settled in for your sentence,” said the processor.

‘Oh joy,’ Chrissy thought. ‘I have to stand here naked waiting on an orange jumpsuit. This is so humiliating,’ she said in her head. She didn’t dare speak out loud unless told specifically to speak.

The processor returned a few moments later with her uniform and a pair of moccasins. She sat the stack down on the small metal table where they had sorted out Chrissy’s belongings, then motioned her over.

“Here you go,” she said. “You get one uniform set now and one set to change into that will be waiting in your cell, along with a blanket and pillow. You will receive one more set later when your initial set goes to the laundry,” the processor told her. “Be dressed in no more than 5 minutes so we can do your mugshots and get you to your cell.”

Chrissy started sorting through the uniform stack to get dressed. She went through the small stack and found panties, which were just the plain white briefs that all female inmates were issued, a.k.a. ‘Granny Panties’. The room was cold and, after being naked so long, she wanted to get dressed as quickly as possible. She stepped into the granny panties, and quickly pulled them up onto her waist.

Next, she grabbed the white tank undershirt from the stack and pulled it over her head, finally getting to cover up her breasts. Her nipples were still rock hard from the coldness of the room and were poking through under the shirt. No bras were allowed in prison; female inmates were issued the same white tank undershirts as their male counterparts in other prisons. The state considered bras a beauty item, and they were therefore banned. The only times one could be worn were if you were making a court appearance in civilian clothes, and even then, it had to be supplied by your lawyer or a family member on the day of your hearing.

With her undershirt and granny panties now on, Chrissy started to slip on the orange jumpsuit. She slipped her legs into it, then pulled it up to her waist. Next, she pulled the top part over her shoulders and slid her arms in and buttoned up the front. It was a bit snug, but it fit her better than she anticipated. Finally, she set the moccasins on the floor and slipped her feet into them, completing her transformation from Midwest Mom to Prison Inmate. She glanced down at her new outfit and noted the ‘D.O.C.’ lettering on the left breast along with her new inmate number, 7671285.

Once she was fully dressed, the guards that had initially escorted her in came back over from the door. “Place your hands behind your back,” said the lead guard. She did it, and again felt the cold steel of the handcuffs close around her wrists. The guards then led her over to the corner, and into the mugshot area. She stood with her back to the wall, arms pinned behind her due to being handcuffed. The processor came over to the camera, which was mounted in front of the height marks and pointed at the wall. Chrissy showed a blank expression as her picture was taken. Then, two profile images were taken as well, one of each side of her face.

“Alright,” said the processor. “We’re all done here. The guards will now escort you to your cell.”

The guards then took Chrissy by the arm and led her towards the back door of the processing room. As they approached the door, the lead guard radioed ahead again. “One for Cellblock 3,” she said. After another buzzing sound, the door unlocked, and she was led down a gray corridor. On the way, they passed two large metal doors that apparently led to Cellblocks 1 and 2 by their markings. They then arrived at Cellblock 3. The other guard that had been escorting her as the partner of the lead guard placed a keycard over a locking mechanism of the door to the cellblock, and it came to life with a buzz. The door popped open, and a set of metal bars behind the door began sliding back. Once the bars cleared, they led her through the doors and into the cellblock. The cells were all the same, with three stone walls and the front wall made of steel bars. They were all 9 feet by 9 feet, each with two bunks, a small two spot locker near the door, next to that a small writing desk, and a combination toilet/sink. There were a few other inmates visible, but not many.

They led Chrissy down the block until they reached a cell marked with number 8. The lead guard took a set of keys off of her belt, and unlocked the steel door, and it slid open. “Step inside to the center of the cell with your back to the door,” instructed the lead guard. She followed the directions, and walked to the center of the cell, hands still cuffed behind her. The guards then closed the steel door, locking her in. The sound of the door closing was chilling, knowing this little room would be her home for potentially the next 3 years, and she would likely have to share it with another inmate at some point soon too. Once the door was locked, the guards instructed her to back up to the cell door and place her hands through the bars. She did this, and felt the handcuffs being removed from her hands. Once the cuffs were removed, she turned around to face the guards, grabbing the bars as she did.