Capture Team Pt. 06: Homeward Bound

Noticing me watching her transform into Felicity, choosing the correct color and blush, Jane laughed, "Going undercover is serious business. You play a part without a script. No excuse for your remiss. No room for blame. You stage the scene by feel, Whatever you say, you must ad lib. You're dead if you get the cane."

Finally, the gate squeaked open. The cold artic air swept through the corridors scattering loose papers and discarded clothing around in swirls. A hand gasping my arm pulled me outside. I looked up it was LT Tina. How I wished she could share that warm overcoat with me.

My bare feet involuntarily went into a dance when they hit the steel grating in the slight depression. "Squat and pee," LT Tina ordered.

There was a pause. My mouth opened ready to form the word, "what?"

In a soft voice, LT Tina added, "It's for your own good. You have to pee. It's a long ride. Only us girls out here. We won't bother to see. Just think, what the guys behind you face. The boys have to squat to pee too in front of us gals."

One of the female guards quipped, "it'll give the guys some practice."

"Regrettably," Tina acknowledged, "we have one eh--gentleman who outright betrayed the Institute and two others who were simply runners." Tina sighed. "the penalty will be based not on individual moral reprehensibility of the indenturee, but upon the needs of the Institute."

Helping me to my feet and knocking on the hatch at the rear of the cargo, Lt Tina assured me, "There, don't you feel much better."

"I'd feel much better in your insulated parka," I quipped.

Helping me into the van, Lt Tina acknowledged, "I'll bet you would. But there's a plus. To protect Institute assets, it keeps its trust. The van is toasty warm. That's a must."

A swat on the rump launched me from the darkened loading dock into the blinding light of the interior of the van.

Pushed aboard the cargo van, I embarked upon the final stage of my journey. Bound for where? I did not know, What awaited me there? I had only a prayer.

As my focus cleared, I could see that there were long benches along either side of the van. I could not make out faces on the heads which bobbed to see who entered. A guard pushed me toward filling an empty spot on the left-hand side. I was strapped in butt -- to -- butt next to Jane.

"So, we meet again," Jane quipped under her breath.

"Isn't it fantastic! I slept the night we eh - linked up," I whispered, "in your panties. I wouldn't mind some fabric, however scanty to insulate my heinie in contact with a cold bench made of plastic."

Jane nodded in the direction of Wendy. Strapped in on the bench across from us, Professor Miller was fidgeting trying to try to find a comfortable position.

Earlier this evening in the dungeon, after being snared in the roundup, Wendy, addressed as such, corrected LT Tina in the center of the dungeon with two dozen naked women behind the wire of the hen house on their feet screaming, "Professor Wendy Sue Miller, if you please." Refusing to strip, Wendy was dragged into the dungeon,

"Frankly, in here regardless of whom you think you are, Wendy," Lt Tina reproved the prisoner as guards scurried about to quiet the naked female prisoners, ensconced behind the wire of the hen house. "Under your indenture, your freedom and your clothes and all your property are forfeited to the Institute. You face in addition to time already owed on the indenture substantial additional penalties."

"I'll do what you ask," Wendy cried. Though her mascara was streaked over her face, Wendy disrobed with grace. Yanking her panties off, Wendy lifted them to present them to Cliff dangling from the big toes of foot.

"Great gymnastics for a full-figured woman." LT Tina complimented Wendy. "Now the stockings."

Standing stitchless in the center of the dungeon, Wendy was ordered bound, searched and paddled.

Wendy's bound hands, secured to the rope dangling from the ceiling, were raised above her head; her butterball shaped body was lifted up so that only her decorated toenails scraped against the grey painted concrete floor.

As Wendy dangled above the dungeon floor, LT Tina, paddle in her hand, addressed the prisoners, "Once The Institute enforced your indenture, your freedom ended. For the period of your indenture, you are a slave, property, subject to disposition: retention by the Institute to serve it or to be sold in a private sale or at auction. Your purpose hereafter is unquestioning service to a master. Disrespect and disobedience are a challenge to the very nature of your responsibilities in the master servant relationship. You are left with but one right: The right to obey. The disobedient will be punished. 10 whacks right butt cheek, 10 left," LT Tina, handing the paddle to Cliff, snarled the command, "Tan her hide good."

Handling the paddle, Cliff suggested, "A taste of the lash might soften her churlish tongue."

"The Institute," Lt Tina explained, "is oriented to the bottom line. It prefers the paddle on a woman's bum -- Women go to auction unblemished, skin smooth and fine."

Holding the paddle in his right hand and slapping it against his left, Cliff, snickering, assured Wendy, "Each stroke creates a swish sound whistling through the breeze more terrifying than actual whack on the bare rump."

Watching the ordeal from behind the wire, Jane commented, "more fun to watch than the porn flick we were making."

Jane's shoulder bumped into mine as she nodded in the direction of the doors where Wendy's partner in porn LT Bernie was pushed into the van.

After guards seated curly haired Bernie and the two other men detained in the roundup and secured them leaving several seats vacant between Bernie and Wendy, the capture team Cliff, Logan and LT Tina, grabbing onto overhead rails to steady themselves, dramatically hopped aboard the van.

Looking over the cargo, Logan remarked, "two dozen women taken in the porn production, all detained. Ten guys caught in the theatre, three detained, seven issued transportation passes. It does seem unfair to the ladies transporting the girls like cattle, while the guys get to make their own way here. Why the transportation passes for the guys and not the girls?"

"The Institute," LT Tina replied, "never gives away what it doesn't expect a whopping reward from. A man who accepts a pass and fails to appear is a runner. In addition to time penalties and the lash, the Institute would be justified in gelding the runner on capture. Properly trained, geldings draw well actioned as household servants. Geldings are believed to be safe around women and children and less likely to stray."

The van doors were sealed shut and the cargo van lurched forward, starting to take off into the night, headed home base, a place I had never been, for disposition in accordance with my indenture. Would they just toss me some clothes and allow me to return to school?

In a few minutes, I could hear the swish of the tires on the open road. We were out of River Bend on the highway bound for the Institute.

Rocking back and forth as the van sped toward home base for the capture team. I observed Elise, the star of the porn production. I wasn't sure whether Elise was so confident she'd be redeemed or so impervious to her current predicament that her behavior was mostly exemplary, though Elise's boobs went bouncing when Elise took to her feet screaming while Wendy faced a paddling for disobedience from Cliff and Logan. Elise, however, was so impervious she hadn't realized that her babysitter was glaring at her as the babysitter sat chained up right next to Elise.

The ease with which I substituted for Elise's babysitter while the capture team searched Else's house for documents was a major contribution to the success of this roundup.

My part was thrust on me at the last minute. I could tell from the expression on LT Tina's face when I joined her in her patrol car, LT Tina would have preferred to have used Jane. Answering the unstated question, I advised the Lieutenant, "Jane was called away to the Dean's office for bullying a transman who was gawking at us in the shower."

"What did Jane do?" LT Tina asked.

"A sightseeing guy in the women's shower taunted us," I told the Lieutenant, "`Think yourselves so red hot that you'd make he-she transmen cream with tits no bigger than pimples.'"

"So, Jane slugged him?" LT Tina asked.

"No, Jane splashed him -- ugh - her," I replied, "The Dean called her in. That's where Jane is today. We hadn't been notified that the capture team would need us."

Tina muttered, "I'll have to check on the Dean's financial status. We can't afford to leave behind a trail that leads back to the capture team's activity."

I waited in the patrol car while LT Tina went inside to restrain the babysitter. When I entered the house, LT Tina and Cliff had the tearful babysitter up against the wall.

"Wake the baby up," LT Tina warned the sobbing girl, "and I'll apply the tazz to your sweet spot. Why the hurry to leave -- we just arrived? A warrant?"

"I'm trying to raise the money to make a late payment," the girl protested, "I slave to catch up with debt. My car broke down. I paid for repairs and missed a couple of payments. To make a few extra bucks I clean up her kitchen and her bathroom while I mind the baby."

"What do I do with the babysitter?" Lt Tina asked herself, "She's not cast or crew. She's not on my list. I can hold her couple of days her under the Fugitive Detention Act until --."

"I'm just a few dollars short of the money needed to bring accounts current," the girl pled.

I helped the Lieutenant make the choice, "The baby sister ugh -- she's obviously assisting the cast, by making Elise's role possible. I need her clothes. Get her undressed. Have Cliff watch her clean the kitchen. I need to shower, get my scent off me. Wearing her clothes and using her perfume should give me a fragrance close enough to hers to pass."

Spotting the babysitter's backpack, I shocked Cliff when I snatched the satchel and opened it up, "her perfume is probably in there."

"Shouldn't I strip search Bliss before we allow Bliss to touch the detainee's property?" Cliff asked.

Lt Tina's eyes met mine. I knew to say nothing. Mentioning my name, Cliff muffed the play. The babysitter could not be released. Motioning me to step out of earshot into an adjacent room, LT Tina asked, "What's the difference between your ratty clothes and the babysitter's? It's typical college girl's attire, dungarees and a sweatshirt."

"Elise is an actress," I reminded LT Tina, "the star of the show we've infiltrated. Elise might not notice the change of face but a change of costuming?"

"And the bath?" Tina questioned. "Is it just an opportunity to bathe without a transman leering at you in a communal shower?"

I laughed, "I'm not trying to upstage Jane's defense of true womanhood by splashing some soap in a his/her voyeur's face. I can't vindicate real women by taking a private shower away from curious eyes. I vindicate real women with a role in porn. Trans-men may crowd women out of women's sports, scholarships and employment but what horny guy is going to pay to see a man pretending to be a woman? Porn is the last preserve of a real woman."

"Trust a thespian," Lt Tina quipped, "to come up with a better melodrama than the one Bernie wrote for the flick we're going to close down,"

Noticing Cliff had the babysitter stripped down to blue lacey frilly underwear, I reminded, "I need to put on her lacey frillies after I wash my scent off me. I have to look and smell like the girl I'm replacing. Besides she won't need them. You keep prisoners nude."

Turning away with the babysitter's clothes under my arms, I taunted Cliff, "You'll have to get your rocks off feeling up the babysitter. You're going to be too busy to join me in the shower. Catch up with me some other time."

The team had already whisked away the real babysitter when I emerged from the en suite shower in a fluffy ankle length white bathrobe. "Well, Bliss," LT Tina told me, "it's up to you to play the feature role. Are you up to it?"

"I'm playing an easy part -- a silly college girl -- working off a debt I foolishly incurred," I went about clearing the steam off mirrors and the vanity. "If I lose my way in the script, I'll smile and giggle."

As the cargo van sped toward that destination, the muffled moans and quiet prayers from the gals strapped to the benches faded away.

The detainee's blank faces advertised their speculation. What would we face when we reached our destination?

Our destination was called The Institute. The very name harkened up conflicting images. Was it like great grassy malls leading up to classic buildings with ivied walls, of a University campus? Was it like stark unadorned tall buildings surrounded by high walls topped by razor sharp concertina wire like a prison? Or would antiseptic smell grab you as soon as you were within 500 yards of a boxy, rectangular edifice, like a hospital? Whatever it was, like the others on the bus, I'd have to face.

"Grin and Bear it!" I could hear LT Tina's voice over the gentle swoosh of the tires rolling over the smooth pavement of the highway. LT Tina's warning to the capture team, "I've heard internal security at the Institute has become stricter."

The tranquilizing effect yielded from the movement of the cargo van left me hoovering in a dreamy state on the edge of consciousness. I could hear the capture team chatting among themselves. For the most part, I couldn't follow the conversation. It was just words without sense as I drifted in and out of a nap.

There was a memorable sequence which came through the fog of sleep. "In this pressure cooker, I'm broiling in the loose-fitting short sleeve utility uniform," Cliff declared.

"We pluck the feathers," Tina reminded Cliff, "of detainees. To recover its investment credibly, the Institute keeps cargo free from harm. On the way to destiny, The Institute druthers bodies secure, toasty warm."

"How can you," Cliff asked LT Tina, "wear the full-dress uniform, jacket, blouse, tie, skirt and stockings? Full kit, you're probably wearing underwear."

"The spit and polish of a professional appearance," LT Tina affirmed, "projects an air of authority, a commanding presence, and confidence which induces peaceful compliance."

I drifted back out of consciousness.

Then suddenly the vehicle's screeching halt ejected me from my nap. Only the straps that bound me to the bench secured me in place. Cliff and Logan straining with one hand to hold the railing managed to keep Tina from being tossed around the van. Only the straps keep the prisoners in place.

The van doors were opened. Grey uniformed security called on the capture crew to exit. "I guess we're going to learn the new internal security rules," said Lt Tina as the capture team left the vehicle.

It seemed like an eternity before Grey uniformed security returned to call the prisoners out of the van one -- at -- a -- time until only Jane and I remained. I looked at her. Her glance told me to say nothing.

Finally, Jane and I were called out of the van. Bound hand and foot we sat on the floor and pushed ourselves off the edge of the van. Fortunately, the muscular arms of the burly grey jacketed security agent caught me as I leapt off the van.

Landing on the concrete slab of an unfinished enclosure, much like an aircraft hangar, I surmised I had arrived, but what surprise had this strange place contrived?

To my left, I noticed indenturees lined up for examination on one side of the van, The security officer grasping my arm in a vice grip; Jane's arm in the other marched us toward a door in an off-white aluminum wall. To my right as we proceeded away from the van toward the portal, the capture crew was lined up with Tina in the middle between Logan and Cliff.

All three were naked. Tina's hair was no longer pulled back tight against her scalp but hung loosely over her shoulders. Presented in profile, her chest thrust out in attention, Tina looked forward toward the distant wall expressionless. Her faultless pressed uniform lay folded neatly at her feet.

By contrast, bare butts burnished a deep crimson, Cliff and Logan, accoutrements blocked by the cock lock, fidgeted nervously with their clothes strewn on the floor in front of them. Jane and I looked at each other and laughed. The same silly thought crossed both our minds. With that cock blocker restraining his eh--soft tissue from hardening, Cliff must have been in agony when launched his nimble fingers into our portals.

It reminded me and perhaps Jane too of Cliff's visits to our dorm room. Forced by Cliff to strip naked with my clothes strewn on the dorm room floor, I recounted how Jane and I had been recruited for a walk -- on in the porn flick. "In a drama class project of topless girls dancing in shorts and tights arrayed by bust size in a line from DDs on the left to A cups on the right. I placed in the middle somewhere; but Jane's bouncing boobs won a spot on the far left." I teased Cliff, "You really should inspect the milkers Jane hides under her top."

As we were led away, Jane quipped, "Now, you know why Cliff never took us up on a three-way in the shower to taunt the phony transmen out for a cheap thrill."

Tightening his grip, the burly grey garbed guard ordered silence. Once we were ushered into a communal shower, a bare breasted female guard sporting a grey shower cap with a matching bikini bottom cut our cable ties cut off, while her companion a nude muscular eunuch left with a flaccid penis as the remnant of male pride put us through another internal examination.

"Cliff," I quipped, "has no idea where his proficiency will lead him."

"He has the right to obey and right now he's getting good practice," Jane acknowledged.

Searched, showered, and separated from Jane, I hugged Jane when we parted.

Placed in a cell in a corner of a doctor's examination room, I was leaning on the lip of a horizontal slit in the bars when Nurse Jenny in scrubs swept into the room, the tail of her white lab coat flying in her wake.

Approaching the cage, Jenny chuckled, "the slit was never designed to allows the subject to rest her chin looking out forlorn. It would have allowed a returning capture team member selected for special scrutiny whom we suspected of eh--a little naughtiness to pass her clothing out of the cage."

"Now," I replied, "even on a successful mission, everyone strips for inspection on arrival. I guess success or failure everyone is equal."

"Interesting point," Nurse Jenny declared as she released me from the cage. "Did you ever get over separation from your roommate eh -- what was her name? Felicity was it? -- without a chance to say goodbye?" Jenny asked as she pointed me toward the gynecological table.

"I was given a part to play. The Institute furnished a stand -- in for my original roommate. There was a change in the cast but the show went on. Jane and I just said goodbye," I daringly corrected Nurse Jenny.

Shaking her head, Jenny dismissed the grey jacketed security officer. "One -- two months in undercover, you're irrepressible! You handled that question like a pro."

Pausing Nurse Jenny in a calm, comforting voice advised, "Now I need you to put aside your crusty shell and act like a fretful virgin submissively facing her first," Nurse Jenny shot me a smile, "inspection of her plumbing."

"In the past 12 hours," I retorted, "my insides have been explored more times than the Carlsbad Caverns."

Jenny smiled. Her tone changed to one of command, "Up on the table, wiggle your fanny down to the edge, dangle your feet off, lie back, feet in the stirrups, and enjoy some gentle finger fucking,"

I cringed at the screeching sound of latex gloves being stretched to fit on Jeny's long fingers.