Stolen Savior Ch. 01

Copyright 2021 by Limnophile

-

It happened in Ramadi, Iraq. If I hadn't been shot fifty meters from the hospital's rear entrance, I wouldn't have made it this far. I had worn my body armor and helmet, as usual, but the enemy had used armor-piercing rounds.

Three doctors and a crowd of nurses were urgently trying to save me, but my body wasn't cooperating. The morphine mostly worked, but I could still feel my gunshot wounds. The two in the right side of my chest weren't bad, and I barely noticed the three in my abdomen. The bullet that had broken my left arm passed all the way through, but the wound still hurt quite a bit. The one that shattered my left kneecap and drove part of it into the cartilage between my upper and lower leg still hurt like a SONOFABITCH!

They were giving me saline in my left arm and O negative in my right, but it was leaking out faster than they could put it in. I knew the blood I was coughing out with every breath was a bad sign. Before I died, I had to know. I gathered the bit of energy I had left and forced my mouth to work. "Did I get 'em?"

Through the din of surgeons asking for tools, I heard a voice say, "You took out all four before they got to the hospital and set their bomb off! You're a hero ..."

The doctor in charge loudly instructed, "We're losing her! Put an IO in the left femur and large bore IV in the right ankle!" His order came too late. As my eyes closed for the last time, I saw my blood pressure was down to 50 over 20. The last thing I heard was a high-pitched whine from the monitor, as my heart stopped.

-

I wasn't a person anymore. I didn't have a body. I felt another formless something near me. I was at my funeral, watching it from above.

A deep voice said, "You deserve to see this." I knew it was Mars, the God of war.

I was amazed a US Army General was giving my eulogy, standing next to an Iraqi Regional Governor. "Corporal Alexandra Cortez was only in the Army a year and a half, but her bravery will live on in the hearts of all those she saved, and in the history of our great nations. By order of the Presidents of both our countries, and on behalf of all the people of the Republic of Iraq and the United States of America, we are proud to posthumously award her the Silver Star and the Medal of Valor, for her gallant acts of courage ..."

-

In what felt like a moment later, I was my civilian self again, wearing a nice beige dress. I was standing under a pear tree and saw a vineyard up the hill. Only a few steps away an apple fell from another tree. Across a wide field of grain, I could see a sandy beach and calm sea.

Mars said, "Welcome to Elysium. You're one of the few who deserve this. Existence here is comfortable and eternal. Many other great heroes will be happy to meet you. I will return shortly."

I looked around at the beautiful scenery of the ancient farm and orchard. I picked a pear and took a bite. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever tasted! I walked up the hill toward a small village. Somehow, I knew I would be staying in the third cottage on the left. It was simply built but looked homey and comfortable. A group of men smiled as I walked near them. All eight or nine were muscular and handsome. I heard one say to another, "I'll wrestle you for her." A felt a smile appear on my face as I asked, "How about you wrestle ME?"

He nodded and chuckled, then followed me to a grassy square in the middle of the village. Many people came out to watch. He moved left and right, trying to get on my side before I could turn, but I was quicker. I had no idea how they knew my name, but a few started chanting, "Al - ex! Al - ex! Al - ex!"

I didn't realize the significance of the name at the time, but heard a few people chant, "Spar - ti - cus! Spar - ti - cus!"

We circled a few times and he sprinted toward me, attempting to grab me in a bear hug. I ducked and rolled, gripping his ankle as he moved past. He fell to the ground as I finished my roll. He was quick too and rolled away before I could grab him again. We circled some more, and he lunged for my left leg. I jumped up and squeezed his head between my knees.

The sudden shift in weight made him fall to the dirt with me on his back. We wrestled on the ground for half a minute, and I managed to sit on his belly with his back to the ground. I reached to grab his wrists, but he was stronger than I thought. He rolled us over and grabbed my wrists instead, then slowly moved them above my head. I felt his groin pressing into my thigh. Several people clapped or whistled. I thought he was very sexy, so I reduced my resistance as he leaned down to kiss me.

The deep voice of Mars returned, "NO! She deserves it! MOTHER!"

An extremely powerful but kind female voice echoed off the hills. "Sorry, Alexandra. I need you to do something else first." As the exciting and sexy scene faded into a fond memory, I knew she was Minerva, queen of the gods.

-

My body was breathing and I could feel my heart beating! I was alive again!

The floor I sat on was cold and uncomfortably hard where my nude body touched it. My legs and everything between them ached, and I felt lesser pains in my jaw and both arms. I opened my eyes and couldn't see anything. Was I blind? I reached to check on the pain between my legs. I had long razor stubble instead of pubic hair and felt some sticky liquid. I moved my hand near my face and sniffed. The liquid was semen and blood.

I slowly investigated my surroundings by touch. I was in a small room about one meter by two, the size of a typical closet. I smelled something unpleasant, the latrine pail. Instead of collar-length like usual, my hair ran all the way down to my waist! The ten extra pounds I had been trying to lose were gone. I could feel most of my ribs and was very hungry. What happened to my breasts? Instead of an annoying pair of 36C's that got in my way, I was nearly flat as a boy!

I felt around and found a wooden door. I probably could have kicked my way through the thin cheap closet doors used in most houses these days, but this one was solid wood. I did kick something soft by accident and remembered it was a plastic jug of water.

I / we remembered that at a clinic a few months ago, we were 150cm and 47 kilos, but had lost about four kilos in the three weeks I / we had been a prisoner. I mostly understood the metric system, but was more comfortable with US units so I converted in my head. My new body was an inch short of five feet tall, and about 95 pounds. Before I died in Iraq, I had been 5 foot 9 and 145. I'd need some time to adjust.

Where was I? WHO was I? WHAT THE HELL!

I remembered that I was Katina Orlova, an 18-year-old student from Volgodonz, a small city in Rostov Oblast. She / I loved dogs, was good at math, and had planned to start medical college in the fall. I / we had assistant nurse training a few months ago and wanted to be a doctor. Katina had gone to her best friend Anya's birthday party with another friend Yulia. A group of men kidnapped Yulia and I /we on our way home. We had barely been sober enough to walk, let alone fight off four grown men.

I touched the cool metal doorknob and heard a voice in my head. "The door's locked, and he said if I try to run away he'll cut off my feet!" It was more of a frightened thought and memory than a voice. I saw a dim light through the crack at the base of the door as a distant switch made a 'click'. I heard rapid footsteps as somebody walked down a flight of stairs.

I was grateful I wasn't blind but had another thought, "NO! I need to be asleep or he'll hurt me again!" I couldn't control my body anymore. Something made me lay on the cold concrete floor and close my eyes. My breathing sped up, and my heart started pounding. My body was terrified!

I heard more footsteps and a much nearer 'click', then a key was inserted in the lock and the door opened. I felt my bladder about to let go and clenched to retain my urine. There were a few bright flashes, then I heard a man's voice quietly say something in Russian. I'd taken a year of Russian in high school and learned a little more in the Army, but only understood a few phrases; "mily malenkiy shlyukha" - "cute little whore", and "oh platite bolshi" - "he pay bigger".

Somehow, a moment later I knew he had a Serb accent and in Russian he had said, "No tits and tiny cunt. Rich jackass be happy for such cute little whore. Blonde, too. I make him pay more for this one."

He wasn't the man who had hurt me or threatened to cut off my feet. His voice sounded much older than the Monster's but I had smelled the Monster's smell; diesel exhaust, male body odor, and the odd chemical and orange peel scent of meth smoke. They had looked at me together as one of them took pictures. Before they left the Monster grumpily said, "She pissed again. I'll dump it." I heard the plastic pail scraping on the floor as he slid it and picked it up, then the door closed.

There were more footsteps and I heard a light switch turn off as the sound of footfalls faded away. I felt a thought again, as I stood and reached for the doorknob without trying to. "He forgot to bring back the bucket and lock the door. I'm scared to go out, but if I pee on the floor he'll be mad."

My body opened the door slowly and felt it's way along a wall in total darkness. Two other doors were open slightly. I knew were tiny rooms like mine, which had held our friend Yulia until the Monster killed her and a girl he sold the day we arrived. As I touched the bathroom door, I realized if the men heard a toilet flush they'd know I was awake. I thought to myself as hard as I could, "Pee in the toilet, but DON'T FLUSH! Then find the bucket in case we need it later!"

We found the toilet in the dark and urinated, then crawled around on hands and knees in the dark until we found the large plastic pail. I heard a pair of metallic thumps which sounded like the doors of a heavy vehicle closing, then a large diesel engine started. The engine noise faded and I presumed the Monster and the other man left. My memories knew that was the Monster's truck, and he often went places and left me / us locked in the basement.

I decided I should explore my surroundings while I had the chance. I navigated along a wall by touch and found a light switch. I 'heard' my memories and emotions say, "One of the Monster's friends lives close to here. If he sees light through the basement windows, I'll be in big trouble. I'll be able to see again when the sun comes up."

I decided to do what I could in the dark. I remembered that my small new self had seen wooden crates stacked on the other side of the room, at least 20 of them. I tried to remember what they held, but hadn't seen inside any.

I did remember seeing writing on a few. One said something in Russian, "DShK Tyazhely Poulemet 12.7" At the time I hadn't realized it might be important later. I translated in my mind - "12.7 millimeter Heavy Machine Gun". It was a notorious 'Dishka' !!!" I sadly realized that even if I could get it out of the crate and had some ammo, there was no way I could use it at my current size. From my Army training I knew the beast of a gun weighed 80 pounds, about the same as my new body. It was usually operated by a team of three or four. When Russians named something 'Heavy' it really was.

I tried to remember if there were other labels on the crates. I only recalled three others that wouldn't help either, "MIG-29 Landing Gear Bolt Kits x 8", "Emergency Life Raft", and "Snow Boots x12 pair size M".

I banged my toe on something metal and remembered it was a small toolbox. I searched through it, but didn't find anything that would be an effective weapon. Small wrenches could cause a minor injury, but nothing that would disable or kill an enemy quickly. Squeezing an ear or finger with pliers might be painful, but not even close to lethal. I might cut the Monster a little with the edge of a dull utility knife, but I knew within a second or two he'd grab me and break my neck with his huge arms, like he had done to my / Katina's friend Yulia when she tried to bite him.

I quietly put the tools back, then closed the lid. I felt my way around until I heard the vehicle return and its doors thumped closed. I crawled back in the closet and pretended to be asleep again. I heard more footsteps and the Monster complaining, "Why didn't you get more pictures the first time?"

"Face doesn't matter for the usual whores, but this one might be good enough to use himself." They opened my closet again. The Monster kicked my feet and demanded, "Up! Stand up and smile!"

I did and tried to force a smile to my face. I knew it was more of a pained grimace. The older man wore a gray and blue suit and held a cell phone near me to get close-ups of my face. The Monster wore his usual Russian Army fatigues. He had a wide scar going from the side of his chin, through his nose and right eye, up to the side of his forehead. Thankfully, he had an eye patch on, so I couldn't see the milky white ruin I knew it concealed. I was beyond terrified of him. He had raped, kicked, and beat me many times.

I thought of the other one as 'Suitman'. He was kind of handsome, but still very frightening. Instead of carrying a holstered pistol on his belt like the monster, he had a cattle prod!

He said, "Open mouth, I need picture of teeth." I did, and he took more pictures. "Bend over and spread legs." I did, and he took pictures of my butt and privates. He commented, "Not virgin anymore. Pity, virgin would get me twice the money."

They walked up the stairs and the lights clicked off. I could barely hear them as Suitman said, "I'll get her in three days. Feed her and don't damage her anymore. She's worthless dead or maimed."

The Monster replied, "Yes, sir".

Suitman said, "Actually, he'll want more pictures." The door at the top of the stairs closed, then opened again some time later. The lights came on and the two returned to the closet and opened the door.

Suitman handed me a bottle of milk with a clear straw in it. He said, "Drink slowly, very slowly." He took many more pictures. He held out a banana and said, "Put in pussy." My body froze in fear and I felt disgusted. "Do it or I will." I pushed myself to do it, knowing it would be much worse if he did. He took more pictures, then pulled the banana away. He opened the top and said, "Lick it, then eat. Slowly."

I understood the pictures were to arouse whoever he was going to sell me to, so he could get more money. I cooperated, since I knew he or the Monster would hurt me again if I didn't. It was difficult to take my time eating, since I was terribly hungry. I remembered the last time I had eaten, three days earlier. After a painful pubic shave and anal rape, the Monster had rewarded me / Katina with a tin of sardines. She didn't like fish but practically inhaled them, since her last meal had been a small bowl of porridge two days before.

Before they left again the Monster put a box of crackers and a bag of apples inside the closet door. Suitman tossed me a scratchy wool blanket. The Monster shook a finger at me and said, "Stay, or I cut feet off. No need feet to fuck." He slapped me to reinforce his point.

I smiled when Suitman asked and ordered, "Are you STUPID? No more damage and no more fucking!"

It felt like winning the lottery to know I wouldn't be raped or seriously hurt again, at least until Suitman returned. I sat on the old blanket and wrapped it around me as the door closed and locked, then devoured what felt like a banquet of apples and crackers in the dark.