Intersexed Ch. 02 - Recruitment

"She's not what?" Julie asked as they joined her at her table.

"Military," Genet explained as she sat and studied the gorgeous Hollywood A-lister. Genet had been watching the news services and was surprised that Julie's absence hadn't been widely reported. Julie's publicist had released a two-sentence statement saying that Julie had taken a break from her usual duties to attend to a personal matter, and they would appreciate it if the press would respect her privacy during this time. More surprisingly, at least so far, the paparazzi have been honouring that request.

'Beyond stunningly beautiful,' Genet thought as her dick threatened to stiffen in her tight trousers. Julie was beautiful before entering the Providian regeneration chambers, and the chambers had only added to her feminine allure. The treatments that Julie received had taken years off her looks. With her body returned to the glory it was before surgery to remove possibly cancerous breasts and with her wide blue eyes sparkling with youthful vigour, Julie stood proudly as The Goddess she'd always been in the eyes of her adoring fans.

Tenerife's mutagen drugs had added a hefty, nearly twelve-inch cock and squash ball-sized testes to her svelte frame. Julie wasn't ashamed of her new appendage but preferred to present as feminine, so she kept it carefully tucked away along her perineum inside a pair of control briefs. Regular martial arts training with Tank and Genet added muscles to her slender figure, which somehow only added to her feminine allure.

Julie was a 'breeder', meaning she could impregnate another or carry a child herself. However, Tenerife had hidden that from his superiors, and Julie was attending Officer Training School, doing the full version of the abridged course Tank had travelled through. She already had a reputation as a dangerous unarmed combat opponent and had topped her sniper class. Julie learned quickly and soaked up tactics like a sponge. Because of this, General Zaha had earmarked her to lead a squadron as soon as her training was complete.

Julie acknowledged Genet and Anan as they sat, but her eyes remained on Tank. He fascinated and awed her, and Julie hadn't been so flummoxed and bamboozled by a man since she fell madly in love with Billy Bob Thornton on the set of the movie Pushing Tin. She wanted the handsome sixty-year-old Tank even more than she'd desired Brad Pitt when they'd first met. However, Julie was shy about acting on her desires because she was afraid of Tank rejecting her because of what swung between her legs.

Lately, Julie's fantasies had centred on using her magnificent new appendage to roger Tank into submission. Those dreams confused her and were another reason she avoided becoming intimate with him. Julie watched longingly as Tank casually and comfortably interacted with other male and female presenting Providians, imagining he was having regular sex with any number of them. If Julie had known that Tank was reluctant to approach her for the same reason she was reticent, their unrequited desire for each other would have found expression.

The foursome shared lunch and then Anan left to return to her lab. Putting their heads together, Julie, Genet and Tank looked through the folder Tantin had created for them. They discussed the various splinter groups and which camp would be the easiest to infiltrate and destroy. The trio wanted an easy in-and-out mission that could be executed out of the sight of the various US law enforcement agencies.

They realised that the NSA and FBI, at least, probably kept an eye on these sites using satellite and drone technology, so Genet left to check with Colonel Tangran. Tangran assured her the satellites would be no problem because they could easily jam them for the battle's duration. Drones, however, were impossible to stop without shooting them down, and the soldiers on the ground would have to keep an eye out and hope they weren't discovered.

The trio settled on an Aryan Supremacy training base in a wilderness area near the Tennessee/North Carolina border. The satellite imagery showed a one-hundred-hectare fenced and gated camp stocked with military equipment and armaments that a South American Warlord would be pleased to own.

The Providian cyber division hacked into the US military's spy satellite network, and Tank, Genet and Julie examined the footage to confirm the images from the still photographs.

"Here," Julie said, pointing to a heavily vegetated fissure leading to the surrounding fence. "If we use the fissure for cover and go in after dark, it looks like it's less than a fifteen-minute walk to the ammunition and fuel dumps. They've stupidly put the two dumps close to each other, and the accommodation barracks are way over the other side, away from the dumps. Look," she added. "Only two guards are circling each dump. Once we eliminate them, we can place the explosives and then set up here," she pointed to another spot.

"Their men will come running out when the dumps explode, straight into our line of fire. We can take down most of them before they realise they're under attack. Then we high-tail it back to the fissure, follow it to our hover craft, and get out of there. I reckon we can take the whole camp out in less than an hour with none the wiser as to who attacked them."

The trio spent another two hours refining their plan and trying to imagine every possibility for errors and mistakes and how to respond if any of them happened. They discussed what to do with any of their injured or dead soldiers, knowing the soldier's bodies couldn't be left behind lest the US military and law enforcement discover they weren't human.

They were finally satisfied their plan was as foolproof as possible and took it to Colonel Tangran. Tangran tried to pick holes in it and kept insisting they should attack the Aridian Slaver base in Ireland. However, Tangran conceded the plan should work and took it and the three officers to General Zaha.

During the meeting with General Zaha, Tangran unsuccessfully tried to convince the general that they should attack the Aridians. Ignoring him, the general worked through Genet, Tank's and Julie's plan. He reached the end and conceded they'd covered all contingencies. "Choose your team, Captain," Zaha told Genet. "I expect you'll want to lead it yourself and bring Tank and Ms Angelina with you as your 2ICs?"

"Lieutenant Zaffra, for sure," Genet agreed. "But Julie will sit this one out. She can join missions after completing her training."

"Agreed," General Zaha stated. "It is partly her plan, though, so include her when training for this operation and put her on overwatch from the hover craft." Zaha grinned before adding, "Ms Angelina has kicked both your asses in the sniper classes and is currently within the top five shots in our army."

"Who'd have thought that pretending to shoot a sniper rifle in Mr and Mrs Smith meant I'd be a crack shot for real?" Julie joked.

"How long before you're ready to execute?" Zaha asked.

Genet and Tank exchanged glances before Genet replied, "One week. We could go in forty-eight hours, but there's no rush, so why not ensure we're as prepared as we can be?"

"Tangran, set up the simulation floor to match Captain Genet's chosen camp and get this happening. Dismissed, all of you."

The four officers saluted and exited the room. Tangran then stormed off without a word. Julie watched him go. "Why is he so hot for that Aridian base?" She mused. "It's almost like he wants us to fail. Captain, I suggest you pay particular attention to the simulation because I wouldn't put it past him to sabotage our preparations by making it different to the real camp."

"Colonel Tangran's a good officer," Genet argued. "He wouldn't do that."

"He's also in the faction opposed to using Lieutenant Angelina and myself instead of killing us and harvesting our DNA," Tank observed. "Rumour has it that he's shacked up with Margraine (the disgraced former lieutenant), and that woman bears us no goodwill."

"I will keep a close watch on the simulator, but you're wrong about Colonel Tangran," Genet said before turning on her heel and marching toward the officer barracks. She needed to choose her sergeant, and they needed to select their team. Most would come from Tank's men but she would include some from the other squads to ensure as many as possible got experience in fighting a war. Genet was intensely aware that no Providian had been in a battle since they fled Proxima Centauri b, some five hundred years ago.

Anan intercepted Tank and Julie on their way to the dojo. "Julie," she said. "I need you for some regulation tests. Tank, you may as well come, too. Our engineers have created a suit that should enable me to test your body's limits."

"Aren't you done torturing me, woman?" Tank pretended to growl.

"Never," Ana riposted. "I believe that your improvements have merely stalled, and there's lots more to come, yet."

Tank and Julie changed into their Gis before joining Anan in her testing lab. The lab had a functional gym capable of testing a person's endurance, speed, reaction time, and strength. As Anan worked Julie through the various tests, Tank warmed up using the apparatus Julie wasn't. He was amazed when Anan announced Julie's Max. VO2 was 75 ml/kg/min, well above elite for a human female.

Julie then ran ten thousand meters on the treadmill in under twenty-nine minutes. If done on a track with official scrutineers, that time would have broken the current woman's world record for that distance. Julie's deadlift of 275 kg, higher than any human woman had lifted, impressed Tank, but when she bench-pressed more than 240 kg, he was gobsmacked.

"You're still improving," Anan noted as she recorded the figures. She completed the reaction time tests and noted them down before telling Julie to warm down and turning to Tank. "You'll find a body suit through the changeroom door," she said. "Put it on and return."

Tank complied and immediately noticed that the suit was weighted. Still, it wasn't as heavy as the equipment packs he carried when on drills, so he shrugged it on and returned to the lab.

"Warm up," Anan instructed as she began attaching sensors to Tank's chest, face, upper arms and thighs. Tank stepped onto the treadmill and jogged along at the low speed at which it was currently set. After five minutes, Anan stopped the treadmill and added weights to the pockets on Tank's body suit. "Fifteen kilos above standard military pack weight," Anan told Tank and the recording device she held.

Anan restarted the treadmill, and Tank strode along. His body quickly adjusted its stride length to compensate for the extra weight. Anan turned the treadmill's speed up until it matched Tank's first recorded effort of four minutes per mile (two minutes thirty seconds per kilometre). Although his stride length had noticeably reduced, Tank could seemingly effortlessly maintain this speed.

The researcher slowed the machine and then turned it off. Circling Tank again, Anan added more weights. "Twenty-five kilos above standard weight," she informed Tank.

The only changes this time were that Tank's heart rate climbed towards its maximum and his breathing deepened. However, he still maintained an effortless four minutes per mile. Anan added ten more kilos and raised the treadmill's front to its maximum. Breathing deeply and evenly, Tank ran on a 15% inclined plane carrying 80 kg (175 lbs) of weight whilst steadily maintaining his speed.

Tank was running at twenty-four kilometres per hour (15 mph), a speed above most suburban gym treadmills could do. Moreover, according to the sensors close to his mouth, Tank had yet to slip into oxygen debt. Anan slowed the treadmill so she could add more weight to Tank's suit.

"Thirty-five kg above standard pack weight," Anan calmly said, although she was amazed by what Tank could do.

The extra weight shortened Tank's stride further, and after he'd run another two kilometres (1.25 miles), he could no longer run aerobically. Lactic acid built in the actor's muscles as he struggled onward.

"Push!" Anan barked as Tank began staggering.

Tank gripped the treadmill's side supports as he whooped in great gasps of breath.

"Push!" Anan barked again. She turned the treadmill to its maximum speed, twenty-five kph (15.5 mph). "Let go of the damned supports and run, you Gawddamned pussy!" Anan screamed.

Tank glared at her as he let go and straightened up. He took several shorter, faster steps to resync himself to the extra weight he carried and the treadmill's speed. The sensors showed that Tank was near the human body's maximum of sixteen litres of oxygen debt (34 pints).

"Are you a man or a wimp?" Anan sneered as she watched the monitors, knowing that Tank's physiology was at its limits. "Surely a real man can push through this?"

"Fuck ... you ..." Tank gasped as every monitor showed that his body should have locked into a lactic acid-induced rictus. He staggered again, and it looked like the treadmill would sweep him off onto the floor. "Fuck ... you... and ... fuck ... the ... fucking ... horse ... you ... fucking ... rode ... in ... on!" He staggered again and growled, "ARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Anan looked from her monitor, expecting to see Tank fly off the treadmill and into the wall. But after staggering, Tank's stride reasserted itself. Suddenly, he no longer struggled to stay upright and began striding out on the treadmill. Faster and faster he ran until the treadmill could no longer keep up. Then, holding the support rails to maintain his position, Tank pushed his feet firmly onto the belt and began making the treadmill run faster than it mechanically could. The treadmill's electric motor was no longer spinning the belt; instead, it was Tank's pushing feet. Overworked, the engine began to whine protestingly and smoke.

Anan checked the readouts. "Thirty kph," she said. "Forty, forty-five, fifty! (19 mph. 25. 28. 31)." She added disbelievingly as every sensor changed to green, showing that Tank was somehow entirely free of oxygen debt and lactic acid. The treadmill howled, threatening to burst into flames. "Tank!" Anan yelled. "You must stop before the treadmill seizes and catapults you into the wall!"

Grasping the side supports, Tank lifted his feet from the spinning belt. Then, without another second to spare, the belt's squealing stopped, and it seized, almost upending the treadmill and launching Tank into the wall as it rocked dangerously forward.

"Keep moving," Anan demanded stridently. Then, as Tank jogged and skipped around the lab, Anan swiftly added weights to the barbell until they reached 575 kg (1268 lbs), the weight that Tank had failed to lift at the previous attempt. Calming herself, Anan said, "Try that."

Checking the weight, Tank lifted an eyebrow as if to say, "No way!" However, when he grabbed the bar and lifted it, he almost threw the barbell at the ceiling because it came up so unexpectedly easily. "WTF?" Tank mouthed as he twirled the 575 kg weight above his head like a bandleader's baton.

"I think we may have achieved a breakthrough," Anan said calmly. Then she squealed delightedly and danced around the gym with her fists above her head as if she'd been the one who had lifted the weight. "I knew it!" She crowed. "I knew your improvements had only stalled and not peaked. Lawd! I wonder how far we can push this?" Anan danced another jig before excitedly exclaiming, "We need Genet, Alban, Roque, and Envet. Tank, Julie, go to the dojo, and I'll meet you there shortly."

Alban, Roque and Envet were amongst the first volunteers to take Tenerife's mutagenic chemicals. They were embarrassed by how swiftly and efficiently Tank had dispatched them during their fight before the Providian Military's upper echelon and hoped the advantages given to them by the DNA-changing drugs would help level the playing field.

The trio were also in Tank's officer trainee group and had been roundly criticised by General Zaha for being captured when they didn't follow Tank away from the camp. In lesser men, being twice embarrassed by an 'inferior human Providian' would have made them angry and resentful. However, Alban, Roque and Envet were men cut from a better cloth than that, and they became fast friends with the actor. These three men were Tank's first Providian martial arts students, having recognised that Tank's skills were superior to theirs.

Genet, Alban, Roque and Envet followed the excitably chattering Anan into the dojo. Tank and Julie were moving through Tai Chi Katas, and the others quickly joined in. Anan impatiently waited until the four newcomers indicated they were warmed up.

"Genet, if you will, quickly conference with the others and plan an all-out attack on Lieutenant Zaffra. We have, ahem, he has, something remarkable to show you, I think. Umm, hope."

Genet turned to Tank. "What is this, Tank? What's up Anan's bottom?"

"I made some small improvements during testing," Tank underrepresented. "Anan seems a little excited about it."

"She's about to cum in her pants," Roque said dryly.

The four that Anan had brought gathered in a circle and quietly discussed how to attack Tank successfully. These four had attacked as individuals the previous time, which had been disastrous for all of them. The four officers devised what they hoped was a winning strategy, then moved to surround Tank and announced they were ready.

Genet, Alban, Roque, and Envet had boxed Tank, then moving from the diagonal corners, Genet and Roque attacked. However, theirs was feint, and Genet and Roque swung away as Alban and Envet attacked. This, too, was a feint, and Genet and Roque quickly changed directions to continue attacking.

To Tank, it was like everything happened in slow motion, and his opponents moved as slowly as flies through molasses. With his mind's eye seeing every detail, Tank knew the first two attacks were fake, and he didn't move. Then, when Genet and Roque launched their flying kicks, he leapt into the air. His two opponents crashed into each other, and in the confusion, Tank landed, grabbed their ankles and threw them at the wall.

Snarling, Alban and Envet threw themselves at Tank from opposite directions. Alban tried a flying kick similar to Genet's and Roque's. Tank stepped back, swivelled and kicked Alban in the rear. He hit the padded wall as hard as Genet and Roque had. Envet tried a slashing 'tiger claw' attack. He woke up on a stretcher being carried to the regen chambers, not ever having seen Tank's response.

"That was unbelievable," Roque said as he struggled painfully to his feet. "You moved so fast that all I saw was a blur. Then, I didn't even see the punch when you hit Envet; all I saw was Envet flying backward into the wall." Roque shook himself and muttered that he needed a regen chamber before adding, "I'm faster and stronger than when we first fought. Arvin, my researcher, says I'm better than twenty per cent improved than before receiving the treatments. The same goes for the others. How is it that you beat us even more comprehensively than the last time?"

"I trained you," Tank modestly explained. "I could read your attacks and how to respond before you made them because I taught you."

Roque turned to Captain Genet, "Summon four more improved soldiers that Lieutenant Tank hasn't fought. Let's see if they do any better than us."

"They won't," Anan denied. "Come here, you guys. You need to see this!"

Anan turned her computer screen so everyone could see it and played the queued clip. When Tank leapt into the air, all you could see was a smeared blur until he landed. The same smeared effect was there when he grabbed and flung Genet and Roque."

"The camera's faulty?" Captain Genet queried.

"No," Anan emphatically stated. "Watch this." She played the clip again at half speed, and Tank was seen in focus. However, at this playback rate, it appeared that Tank moved at an average speed while the others moved at half of that. "He's too fast for the camera to capture accurately," Anan explained in case the others had missed the significance.