Partings Pt. 02

Barking an order to stand and bend over, he forced my head against the table. Remarking that my juices should be sufficient lubrication, he inserted a gloved finger up my crack. Twirling his finger, Doc wormed his way inside first with one, then two and finally with three fingers as I pushed back hard to force him in deeper. I panted while Doc rotated his fingers around my insides until I came. When he withdrew, he patted my butt and simply yelled "Next."

The rest is a blur. We were herded into a shower to clean ourselves off. In our last shower together Jerry strummed the ballad of the first communal shower:

"Bodies bristling// into waters rippling// A new beginning// like a Christening."

After we showered off, some girls asked what were we going to get issued us to wear? Sergeant Meyer now in a two -- piece camouflaged bathing suit laughed, "You're undifferentiated inductees, not yet classified."

"Undifferentiated, unclassified and -- unclad," I whispered.

Sergeant Meyers chuckled, "Warbler, you're my push - up expert. Say, you give me 25, for starters."

As I struggled to keep my feet planted on the wet floor to do the push -- ups, Sergeant Meyer continued, "Ladies, Branch uniforms are issued upon classification. Until classed, you remain in the skin you're in."

Answering the complaints, Sergeant assured us. "After a while it will seem natural. By the way no one can be classified until I have at least eight inductees. Until then, I'll run you through the physical test Don't worry. Classification can wait. My enlistment isn't up for 4 more years so we have plenty of time together. With the mental tests, Good luck, you're on your own."

The blur continued: marched out of our cave for early morning showers, women and trans -- men behind a white line on the right, men behind a white line on the left. Usually Sergeant Meyer, in two -- piece cammies, positioned herself in no -- man's -- land, dab center in the middle. Every day, I paid the penalty, 25 push -- ups for peeking over the line looking for Jerry. "Warbler," she bellowed, "I'm gonna beat your horniness out of you. With only one additional voluntary entrant, I'm still under the minimum number."

What followed? Sergeant Meyer ran us through the tests in "our patch," our grassy training area behind the building, until we didn't need her to bark the orders; we went through the paces mechanically. Our patch for women and trans -- men was set off from the men by an eight foot cyclone fence topped by barbed wire. Out in the patch, I drew the punishment daily getting caught looking for Jerry.

The day ended with a cold meal wrapped in plastic. Issued scratchy blankets and marched to the cave, we slept on wooden benches. Some girls fought over the blankets. I nustled up to Ronnie's fleshy butt.

Jerry's jingle went, "When facing the devil// who in your demise// will revel// send your mind// to another level."

Late in the week, maybe Thursday night, I was roused from sleep by Sergeant Meyer hoovering over me in her olive uniform. Hushing me, she led me to the shower. "Inductee Warbler, first name Jerry will enter from the other side and take up position on the male white line. You have 20 minutes. Physical contact between Inductees is strictly prohibited. Understood, inductee?"

I nodded. An electric charge surged over my skin as Sergeant Meyers lifted the blanket over my bare shoulders. "No sex, Warbler, say good bye from the women's line—Cross -- me, I'll personally prepare you for Humanitarian Serves by pulling your pussy hairs out one -- by -- one."

When I entered the communal shower, Jerry was standing on the men's line. I took my place on the woman's line, trying to hold back tears. We both spoke at once, like two awkward teens. "Jerry," I broke the ensuing silence, "a couple a days ago, we stood together but apart in our shower to say good -- bye."

Some days ago, prior to reporting in, Jerry and I exchanged our good -- byes in the shower of our home. Jerry grasped his rocket in his fist powering the shaft with steady strokes as I deliberately teased him, "Oh, Jerry, don't you want to launch that rocket into my orbit." I turned to present my butt, bent over and jeered him, "Let me open the control tower." I taunted Jerry, "Let me pull my succulent pussy lips aside to draw you inside." I sighed. Rather than taking me, Jerry shot into a sperm collection cup.

"I guess," I remarked, "the last time we said good -- bye, you chose to respect me in the morning."

"Today, I must show you the same respect. Plus, we have an audience," Jerry quipped, "I hope they enjoy the show." With a sigh, Jerry informed me, "Today is decision day. Two other prior service are as fit as me. So, I don't know."

A look from Jerry told me to button my lips, not to question further. The news I read off his face was not good. Jerry had figured that if he applied for Police Services and I for Armed Services, chances were we'd stay together one way or the other. If he drew Police and I drew Support Services, we'd be assigned locally and simply go home. "If I only had more time," Jerry cried in the shower, "I'd have set us up for the exemption."

"We're wasting time," I quipped, "our audience awaits an exposition." I laughed, "for once, I'll upstage you without inhibition, stealing your line."

"You're in great shape," Jerry complimented me. "You might class for armed services."

Beforehand in the shower at home, Jerry explained I should request Armed Services even though my objective was Support Services. "It's too easy to get dropped from Support Services to Humanitarian Services. Nobody wants that—underpaid maintenance people, aides and orderlies in hospitals."

"Shh ... Let your mind wander," I purred, "Imagine. We're two pre -- teens alone at my home. It's boiling hot outside. We decide to take a shower together. Stripping off our sweat stained clothes, we hop into the shower. You lathered me in a sweet -- smelling soap." I ran my hands up and down my torso.

"When you tug at my boobs and toy with the tits, I upbraid you. I take your hand and guide it." As I spoke, I twisted my body in a seductive dance while I massaged my breasts. My gyrations became more intense as my massage worked up in a furious rhythm. With circular motions, I massaged my belly, reaching further down with each pass.

"Our eyes meet," I continue the narration, "I know what you want. I nod. Your fingers dared slide down my belly through my curly bush. You pause. I seize your hand and drag it lower." I introduced my right hand's fingers—one -- by -- one into my portal as my thumb worked my clit. Feeling the rising tide surge in my body, I ran the index finger of my left along the ridges of my labia and applied my finger to my tongue to taste my essence. The rushing tide overcame me like successive ripples of a tidal wave.

I fell to my knee, screaming then rolled on the floor until I passed out. A chill brought me to. I looked around; Jerry was gone. I sighed. Full of guilt, I regretted I had purposely satisfied myself, not Jerry.

Sergeant Meyers was standing over me. "Wash yourself up. I'll wait outside. Be quick."

In the corridor light by flickering low wattage electric light bulbs hanging from the wall in a wire cages, Sergeant Meyers returned my blanket. "Under the Privacy Act, I can't divulge another inductee's personnel file. But you need to see this."

Showing me her electronic notebook, she noted. "You're in love with Jerry, but is he in love with you? His preference is Police Services. If he gets it, he goes home to a quasi -- civilian job." Looking at me with a sensitivity I had not see in her dark eyes, Meyers asked, "Are you still interested in Armed Services?"

I sturdied myself. My reaction had to be perfect, a muted shock of betrayal. Jerry had a plan. One of us had to get out in order to get the other out after the mandatory term. I didn't yet know how I'd do that.

"Jerry," I stated frankly without emotion, though my heart was beating in my chest, "chose what's best for him; I chose what's best for me. May I return to the eh—cave?"

Asked if I were OK, I replied in a sarcastic tone. "Jerry's deal with me. If separated, I'll stick to women; he can BF girls. That way no Bastards."

"OK," Meyers paused with sigh. "I expect," Sergeant Meyer spoke softly, "an eighth, perhaps a ninth, inductee to report today. Assignments will be made by Monday. I'm off this weekend. I can come by visit you girls and," in a tougher voice, "drag your asses out in the patch and run you ragged."

"That'd be nice of you," I replied, "I'm looking forward."

Touching my cheek, Sergeant Meyer smiled. "No special privileges."

I laughed. "If you fail, Sergeant Meyers, to kick my ass out in the patch, I'll kick yours."

The rest was a whirlwind. Friday was my best day out in the patch. I only got dropped for push-ups twice. "Remarkable," Sergeant Meyers noted, "I didn't notice you gawking at guys getting shipped out. I'm slipping. Drop down for 25 more on general principle." Saturday flew by without extra push -- ups.

Early Monday after showers, Meyers took me aside while she sent the girls out into the patch. "You qualified for Armed Services. However, I can only recommend two candidates to the armed services and Support Services wants to send you back to school to complete your degree in Industrial Psychology. I too have been recommended for the programme. Would you be interested in going to school together? Maybe you could help me get a flop, off post apartment?"

When I impassively nodded agreement, Sergeant Meyers complained, "I had to send a police chief's daughter to Service Support when she belonged in at the very bottom of Humanitarian Services."

Shaking her head, Meyers said, "Go retrieve your property. You're assigned here, with me, pending beginning of academic term." Our eyes locked for a moment until she barked, "get moving before your head is shaved and your ass is shipped to Humanitarian Services." In a softer tone she added, "First gal has a decent chance of getting her own clothes or something better."

In a utility closet, women's clothing was strewn on a table. A clerk in the grey Support Services utility uniform told me to hunt for whatever fits me. I found my torn jeans and Jerry's T -- Shirt without difficulty. I couldn't find my own underwear. The clerk told me to pick whatever might fit.

I was handed an id cart with my picture. "Keep this safe," I was warned, "it may save you from a night in jail." My driver's license and keys were tossed across the counter to me along with a check for the change I had had in the pockets of my jeans.

Looking at the check, I exclaimed, "$4.67! Wow!" holding the check to my chest, I promised, "I won't spend it all in one place." The Clerk chuckled, snickering that I'd be fun to work with.

Ronnie Waxhams and that tall blond who wore a suit to her induction soon joined me.

Released from the NaSE (National Service Entrance) Facility together, I stood outside with Ronnie and the tall blond. Ronnie joked, "it feels good to get dressed, even if the clothes are someone else's. We giggled together. "Your clothes," Ronnie added still choking, laughing at her own joke, "fit, even if the jeans are holier than swiss cheese." I nodded stupidly. Jerry had told me to keep what I knew to myself.

I looked back at the plexiglass gateway. Ellipses were etched in the grey poured concrete around the grimy plexiglass door. I sighed. Ronnie, the shorter of the two co -- inductees chided me, "Missing that hole already?" We all laughed together.

"That entry looks like a vagina," I wondered aloud, "Vomited out of the belly of the beast, am I reborn?"

"Not so fast," Ronnie reminded me, "Amy, you and I still have to report in Friday -- weekend shift..."

The blond departing wished us luck, "Good luck, girls. I drew service support, but I'm attached temporary duty police services. Different from you two Donut Dollies, I'm off for a week."

I took a breath, as I watched the Blond in a merry mood swing her hips down the path. Ronnie stewed, "Oh, she's happy. Likely, she stays at home. She might even get upgraded to Police Officer."

I held my piece. I might have said, "It pays to be daughter of the police chief," but there was no reason to express an opinion. Why should I enlighten Ronnie? I was debating with myself over a more humanitarian question. Should I ask Ronnie if she needs a ride? Would that violate what Jerry taught:

"Wisdom conferred on but a few // Most of the world, without a clue, // Keep to yourself what you knew."

When reporting, Jerry and I parked our car blocks away. What did Jerry say? "If one of us gets out, we can pick up the car and drive home. If we're both taken then, the finance company will eventually find the car. I don't want any grey suited service support people stealing our car and riding it around."

Did Ronnie have any need to know that?

I turned to look at the obscene entrance. Only one week ago, I hugged and kissed Jerry, grabbed his arm and turned to march up the path to door. Jerry leaned over to whisper a short ditty and remind me to

"Remember." Now, I suddenly felt alone.