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Jasmine wasn't sure how much time had past, only that it was too much for her liking. She was sitting in a prisoner transport bus, still dressed in the pinstriped suit she'd worn in court, her hands still cuffed in front of her. What had changed was that she now wore a blindfold, an over-the-mouth gag and a pair of ear plugs. I the state of sensory deprivation Jasmine was hyper-aware of sensations she wouldn't usually notice. She felt every bump in the road, every turn, however gentle, and she could smell the sweat of her fellow inmates acutely. At one point, a fly landed on her cheek, and she nearly leapt out of her seat, stopping herself only because she remembered there were guards with tazers aboard.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the bus stopped, and Jasmine's headgear was removed by one of the guards. She only had a moment to get her bearings before she, and all the other prisoners, were ordered off the bus.
Jasmine looked around. They were in a courtyard, and the sun was setting, so clearly the bus ride had lasted most of the day. She did a double take when she noticed a pillory on an elevated platform in the middle of the courtyard.
What the Hell kind of place is this?! she thought.
"Alright, convicts, into the admissions building, move!" Yelled a one of the guards at the ten frightened women who'd just gotten off the bus.
They were marched into the building and told to stand in the yellow line in front of the main desk. Jasmine was third from the right, in between a terrified looking blonde, and a redhead who, bizarrely, had a huge smile on her face (at the time, Jasmine assumed she was high). Four guards surrounded the ten prisoners. Jasmine gulped as she saw the guards had electric cattle prods.
A fifth (unarmed) guard went along the row, removing each prisoner's cuffs and shackles.
"Thank you." Said Jasmine, when it was her turn, getting a slap across the face for her trouble.
"Speak when spoken to, convict!" Barked the guard.
"Sorry." Jasmine squeaked, casting her eyes down. None the less, she was grateful that she was no longer chained. Certainly more so than the redhead, who actually seemed annoyed to be unshackled.
Jasmine was less thrilled by the next development: the guard started placing a cardboard box in front of each inmate. Jasmine got a sinking feeling as she correctly guessed where this was going.
The guard who had greeted them off the bus, who seemed to be in charge, no stood in front of them with a huge grin on his face. "Alright, convicts, I think you know what's next: Strip!"
The reaction of the women was mixed. Some immediately, though unhappily, began to undress (the redhead doing so with a lot more enthusiasm than everyone else). Others, including Jasmine, hesitated.
"You deaf or something? Let's go, everything off, in the box, now! Or would you like us to help you undress?"
That last remark hurried them along. Jasmine quickly removed her jacket, blouse, shoes, skirt, bra and panties, putting them all into the box, keeping only her glasses. Soon, a row of ten stark naked women stood on the yellow line in front of the openly leering guards.
Jasmine used her arms to cover her breasts and pussy and, mercifully, noone seemed to object.
"Alright, convicts, here's the deal: My job is to make sure this prison stays contraband-free, and that means making sure you little doxxies don't smuggle anything in your clothes, or in your bodies. Your clothes have been taken care of...as for your bodies..."
Jasmine tensed up.
"...we don't have time to cavity search all of you..."
Jasmine gave a little sigh of relief.
"...so we've got another method to check if you're hiding anything. Put your legs slightly wider than shoulder width apart, and hold your arms out in front of you, wrists crossed."
Jasmine, along with the others, reluctantly obeyed. She was painfully aware of how exposed she was.
"Now...you pretty little things are gonna give me twenty squats, on my count.
You have got to be kidding me. thought a dismayed Jasmine.
"Ready?"
No.
"One."
Jasmine squatted, and rose along with the others, with a look of disbelief on her face.
The squats were tough on the computer geek. She was slim, but not what could be termed athletic, and by the tenth squat, she was ready to drop. She did the eleventh one half-heartedly...and a guard started approaching her, cattle-prod in hand. She quickly increased her vigour, and didn't slack off again. By the twentieth, she was exhausted.
The head guard gave them a moment to recover before ordering them to follow him into the cell block.

In the cell block, they were issued their uniforms, and finally allowed to get dressed. Jasmine was thankful that these cells had full doors rather than barred ones, limiting her audience to five guards and nine fellow prisoners.
Despite herself, Jasmine couldn't help but find the back and white stripy uniform cute, especially the hat.
"Alright convicts, go to your assigned cells: Prisoner 84 to cell C-01."
The redhead, obediently climbed the metal staircase to the second floor up (marked C) and went to the cell marked 01, which a waiting guard opened, and locked her in.
"Prisoner 82 to cell C-07."
Jasmine looked down at her new outfit, and saw the number 82 on her chest. She stepped away from the group and climbed the stairs, wincing at the cold mental grate on her bare feet. She walked over to cell 07, and timidly
stepped in as the door opened for her. The cold metallic clang of the door closing behind Jasmine made her shiver...it just seemed so...final. She slumped down against the door, ready to break down in tears...but before she did, she realised she wasn't alone in the cell. She looked up to see her new cellmate.

On the top bunk of the bed sat a young woman with green hair, and the same uniform Jasmine wore, except with the number 88 instead of 82. She was watching Jasmine intently. Were Jasmine in a more rational frame of mind, she might have recognised the gaze as one of suspicion and apprehension, but in her scared state, she mistook it for a predatory look. Jasmine gulped. She'd heard stories about prison...power struggles, the gang fights...the shivings...
I can't show weakness. Jasmine thought to herself. She's probably a hardened criminal, maybe even a killer. If she finds out I'm just some computer geek who took it too far, I'll looking at 14 years as a prison bitch.
She rose to her feet and assumed what she thought was an intimidating stance...but actually looked completely ridiculous: bow-legged with her fists raised. The look on Prisoner 88's face went from attentive to bemused. Jasmine noticed, and returned to a more natural standing position.
Fuck. I need to get better at this. She thought.
"Um...hello." Said Prisoner 88, apprehensively.
"H-hi." Replied Jasmine.
There was a long, awkward silence, which 88 broke.
"So...um...what are you in for?" She asked.
"I hacked..." began Jasmine. Don't tell her that! Pick a crime that makes her think you mean business! The thought at the last moment. "Hacked...a...a guy!" She blurted out.
88's eyes widened. "Hacked?...Like...with an axe?"
"Y-yeah..." replied Jasmine. "With an axe...i-into little pieces...because that's what I do to people who piss me off...got it?!" Asked Jasmine, in a tone she hoped was confrontational enough to mask the fear she was feeling.
88 nodded slowly. "Sure...I'll be sure to avoid pissing you off." She said carefully.
Jasmine wasn't sure if her ruse had been successful, but she didn't feel like pushing her luck. She went to the bottom bunk, and lay down for her first night in prison...
The first night of the next 14 years... She thought...fear of showing weakness to 88 was the only thing holding back tears. Neither cellmate slept very well that night.