The Institute Pt. 05 - Tits and Ass

At our forward base in River Bend, I paused in my reading of the background information to monitor Jane's role in assisting Mary. Predictably Jane's nonchalance melted away into vigilance when Mary announced the next step.

"Now, I need you place any jewellery, personal effects or money into the box Jane will hand you."

Elm sneered as she removed her costume jewellery, white pearly earrings, a zircon pendant, and turned the pockets of her jeans out to empty her pockets of change and cash. "It didn't pay to scarf up the best stuff on the table when we were preparing for departure."

"Before departure," Captain Tim announced to the crew, "there's one small ritual the Institute requires," Captain Tim reminded us, "of the elite grey uniformed private security setting off on a mission away from Home Base. Sergeant Jenny?"

"Alright," I barked, "time to shuck the starched uniforms in order to select our new wardrobe."

With the newbies nervously watching, my three old hands, Jane, Cliff, Mary and I, quickly stripped. Mary's slightly rounded belly bouncing, we cheered, slapped palms in a salute, and raced into the communal showers just in time to watch newly arrived naked detainees, sullen female indenturees, heads hanging, plucked from real life led away into servitude, reduced from personhood to mere figures on a balance sheet, sets of tits and ass..

How fragile "real life" can be, I mused. I was not apprehended like these girls. I was in nursing school when my father exercised his right to indenture a member of his household.

Lured to the Institute, under the pretext of an interview for a scholarship to pay for my final year, I met Dr Trystan Throop. "Jenny," Dr Throop told me in the presence of my father, "from this moment forward. You hear a command and obey it without question: Strip for inspection of your person and a medical exam."

"With a man present! No curtain, no hospital gown?" I objected. I was summarily reduced to a set of tits and ass.

Prior to leaving on the mission for River Bend, I, leading the crew out of the shower after a spirited frolic, presented my towels to a naked indenturee, on shower duty, before I strutted out into an auditorium. The Old Hands followed behind me.

Turning I saw old hand Mary whip the towel off Elm's body. Instinctively Elm covered herself with her hands. Pointing to the naked indenturee, Elm asked Mary, "Bare assed what makes us any different from her?"

Indeed, I thought to myself, aren't we bound in servitude with a tracker inserted in our right breast just like all other indenturees? Only the bar code burnt into the right buttocks over the iliac crest and under the right armpit distinguished us from other indenturees The Institute retains. Without the bar code, we were another figure on the ledger, another set of tits and ass. Yes, Dr Throop had it right when she said, "The Institute leaves an indelible imprint upon you."

"Oh," I exclaimed before Mary had the opportunity to answer, "But we're get to do something all free girls love to do. Let's shop for new clothes, girls!"

The crew rummaged through a long table where white uniformed laundry personnel had stacked and sorted clothing taken from indenturees. Before us were laid out neat piles of dungarees, skirts, tights, pants, dresses blouses and underclothes. "Look for your size," I reminded the crew, "Don't try anything on. Take three changes of clothing. This is freshly seized clothing. It hasn't been cleaned and deloused yet."

"But, we still have to clean out the trailers," Elm moaned.

Mary chuckled, "Saving the Institute money. There's no laundry bill for cleaning bare skin."

After selecting a business suit replete with black boots and lacy frilly black underthings, Elm held the outfit against her body admiring it. "Looks to be about my size. Don't you think?" Elm asked me.

"What do you think the businesswoman thought when she removed the suit, folded it carefully and turned it in?" I asked Elm. Receiving no response, I added, "She wasn't merely stripped of clothing, but of an illusion. Naked, she finally realized she was just another set of tits and ass."

My words did not dampen Elm's enthusiasm for the shopping spree. Attracted to the jewellery table, Elm selected a ring, earrings and a pendant, exclaiming, "I feel like a kid in a candy story."

Elm stared suspiciously at the reassuring hand I placed on her shoulder.

"Remember," I cautioned her, "whatever the Institute allows, however great or small, may be taken away. Each one of us is only a figure on a ledger, another set of tits and ass. Together we're a team. As a team, we belong to each other."

In the forward location at River Bend, Mary, nodding to Jane, asked Elm to turn around. Accepting surgical gloves from Jane, Mary thanked Elm for co-operation. "I'll be sure to favorably note your compliance in my report. So, Ms Elmont, I can verify your identity by scanning your bar code on your hip, I need you to take off your bottoms, fold them neatly and place them in the bin."

Mary pointed to a shoulder high circular container on wheels. "An indenturee's person and property," Mary announced, "belong to his/her master."

Elm puffed and pouted, but with a disgusted scowl dropped her jeans and panties.

Mary commented in an aside to the crew. "You're still watching her, but an obedient subject will feel more comfortable disrobing with her back turned on her captors. But make sure you follow her hands."

At Mary's nod, Jane picked up the discarded bottoms and roughly pulled them inside out, carefully examining the seams before dropping them in the bin. The tails of Elm's shirt, stretching down between her legs, exposed her outer thighs but covered the contours of her butt.

Tracing the hems of Elm's top, Mary tickled Elm's exposed thighs. "OK, Ms Elmont," Mary spoke softly as she unbuttoned Elm's blouse, pulled the shirt off Elm's shoulders, undid the cuff buttons and whipped the shirt off, "your top has to come off -- your bra too."

The request was routine. A runner who escaped from the terms of bondage would have a barcoded etched into her underarm and a chip inserted in her right breast. The Institute believed most women wouldn't risk losing a breast having the chip removed.

Left on the podium in her bra, Elm red-faced breathing heavily reached behind her. Her hands trembled but she managed to struggle to unhook one clasp of her bra, then another. The bra straps fell away from her shoulders. Mary grabbed at the frilly cotton band that connected the two cups and yanked the bra away from Elm's body. Instinctively Elm cupped her hands over her cupcake sized breasts. "Hands at your sides," Mary growled.

Mary's nod brought Jane over with the scanner. Looking at a screen above the height chart, Mary read, "Elm Elmont, no. 31 F 6989341, 21, 5 ft 1 in, 120lbs, Voluntary, bondswoman -- Institute security --PDY."

I expected Mary to compare the code hidden in Elm's underarm and check the chip, but instead, Mary turned to the crew in an aside. "A clothed body holds potential secrets. Wholly apart from searching for drugs, weapons or valuables, inspection of the unclothed body allows you to note for the indenturee's file, physical anomalies, scars, stitches, tattoos, varicose veins, on a female stretch marks, variance from the norm -- The subject we're inspecting, for example, has unusually long legs for her size." Elm's face turned red at the detailed description of her physique. "Fully disrobed, the exposed person has little left to conceal--except..."

I noticed an off-colored lighter patch of skin on Elm's right butt cheek. Hmm, I recalled, that's tinea versicolor, I used to see that in athletes in the Institute's Clinic during training to become a nurse. It's a recurring skin pigmentation disorder which becomes noticeable from exposure to the sun and fades in colder weather. Hmm, the crew splashed around bare assed cleaning the trailers before we took off on the mission. Maybe I should order the rest of the crew disrobe for inspection.

I returned to my dossier. What was being concealed in these pages from me I pondered.

On our way to our forward base, we stopped at a one-story white clapboard farmhouse, to exchange the double trailer truck for less noticeable vehicle for use in town. Meeting with Captain Tim and me in the site's control center, the Institute's wizened haired site manager, staring through bifocals, challenged us, "I guess you've come to the scene of the crime."

Words forming on Captain Tim's lips were stifled when I touched his bare forearm. "Crime? What crime?" I asked, "Our mission is routine, hauling in the usual suspects, repossessing college students who overspent their allowance, single mothers who didn't surrender when requested, overextended businesspeople, no one special we expect a fight from."

"Hmm, I thought the Bernie and Brigit story brought you in," the manager expressed surprise, "River Bend is such a small place. A capture team pulling double hitched trailers could dredge up more indentures in a major city. That Bernie and Brigit affair really shook up your organization."

"How so?" I asked in a tone that feigned disinterest.

"Brigit escaped from the dungeon, downstairs," the manager. "The previous mission was otherwise successful. I understand the Institute made quite a haul on the co-eds redeemed by their families. Bought the coed's notes for peanuts, the Institute recovered face of the note plus handling charges and of course kept the forfeited property. The girls not redeemed turned a profitable pound as Surrogates or at auction."

"Fertile hunting grounds here in River Bend!" I exclaimed, "The Institute had good reason for sending our mission here to recover some of the Institute's money."

"And no other reason?" the manager prodded. "After the crew pulled out to head for home base, minus its leader LT Bernie and Brigit, the crew was broken up. The Sergeant was busted to the ranks and put in Surrogacy and other females who declined surrogacy shipped out stripped naked, shaven heads to sale at market. The two guys, I'm not sure what happened to them."

The Institute had kept a veil of silence over that fiasco. Hmm, that could explain Mary's rounded belly. Security was almost never used as Surrogates, but how did the farm's site manager know so much and still escape the fallout?

Silence fell. The Manager was trying to ferret out some information. I looked at Captain Jim before I spoke. "Captain and I need to confer before we inspect eh--the taxis assigned to us and organize our crew for the move out to our forward position." I declined an offer of farm hands to drive the vehicles.

In our forward location, at Mary's nod, Jane positioned Elm in front of the height chart. "Now, Ms Elmont, let's begin your modelling career with a photo spread."

While Jane snapped a full frontal and a profile picture, Mary carefully examined the bra. "This cup A bra is a simple cotton sling; padded bras may have hidden surprises, money, notes, razor blades, even bugs and tracking devices. Cotton blouses," Mary turned the blouse inside out and felt along the seams, "usually contain nothing of interest."

"Thank you, Ms Elmont, for accommodating us," Mary expressed her thanks, "throughout this process. Now, Jane, will you complete the inspection?"

"Ms Elmont," Jane playfully introduced the next step, "you're going to give us an opportunity to show us what you think of this procedure. Please open your mouth and stick your tongue out at us, if you please." The exasperated expression on Elm's reddened face faded. With laugh, Elm stuck her tongue out and upon request twirled it around.

Jane turned to Mary for instruction. "With flat chested women," Mary taught, "There is no under-boob, breast tissue overhanging the abdominal surface. I don't ask small breasted women to lift their boobs. If you have nothing up top to brag about, the subject could conceal more with her hands than she reveals. Proceed, Jane."

"Ms Elmont," Jane ordered, "please, turn around, face the wall," Jane ordered, "now take a step toward the wall." Elm nervously looking behind her suspiciously, moved toward the wall, Jane continued, "Eyes forward, look straight ahead, if you please, Ms Elmont." Once Elm faced the wall, Jane ordered, "Palms on the wall, Ms Elmont, lean into it." Upon compliance, Jane directed, "Ms Elmont, spread your feet as far apart as you can."

Looking over her shoulder, Elm appealed to Mary, "Is this really necessary?"

At a nod from Mary, Jane answered, "Afraid, so, Ms Elmont, "We can't have drugs brought into the Institute. Your person and any money or valuables hidden on your body belong to the Institute and must be recovered." After a pause, Jane added, "Give us a good split. Push your legs further apart."

I noticed Elm gave her tiny muscular butt a wiggle as she re-aligned muscular legs. Muscles in her arms bulged as she, grunting dissatisfaction, pushed the palms of her hands against the wall. Despite Elm's small stature, a person of her strength could put up a good fight.

Watching Mary rub her rounding belly, I tried to figure how far was she along in her pregnancy. I had seen Mary naked yesterday during the crew's frolic in the shower prior to departure from home station. I knew nothing about her. Just beginning to show, was Mary two or three months?

I used Captain Tim's code to open Mary's personnel file. During our private discussion prior to setting out, Tim had been reluctant to provide the code. Rolling along setting out on our mission in a quiet cubbyhole in one of the trailers, I found Tim still willing to break the anti-fraternization rule when I whispered, "After my exhibition with Jane in the shower, I need to ride about six to eight inches of solid erectile tissue inside me."

He laughed. A good workout followed. Cuddling together, I fingered his deflated penis. "Let me work it back to full capacity for a successful infusion," I teased Tim using deliberately inflated bureaucratese. My other hand cupped his scrotum. "Perhaps, your derrick will rise if I stimulate the engine compartment."

Tim closed his eyes and leaned back. His breathing deepened. Resting against him, I could feel his heart beating. "You know," I was daring, "Tim, this important mission could bring a promotion or if you fail you could be stripped eh -- of rank and accoutrements and sold to serve as a eunuch in a eh--pleasure palace's security." I planted a kiss on his penis as I assured Tim, "I'll help you--keep your batteries and your joystick."

I opened Mary's personnel file. There were a series of casting photos taken over the years including fresh ones, with a daring seductive smile, placed recently when she was entered into the stud and mare directory, available for insemination as a surrogacy. An bodacious note declared she preferred "hot infusion of seminal fluid."

Our paths at The Institute crossed several times, but we never came into contact with each other and never worked together. Like me she went to nursing school. Different from me, she voluntarily indentured to pay a student loan, not then in default. The Institute regarded such an Indenture as a sign of responsibility. A Sergeant with glowing reviews for ability to take charge, right up until the previous operation in River Bend, Mary would have been officer material.

According to the file, busted for failure to secure the prisoner Brigit, Mary, consenting to compensate the Institute for the loss, was entered in the Surrogates' program. Elm and Logan, recent acquisitions by the Institute, had little of note in their files to hide.

In the exercise unfolding before me, in our forward base, Mary demonstrated her ability to take charge. Mary nodded to Jane to proceed. Dabbing some lubricant on the tips of her gloved fingers, Jane approached Elm. Elm's muscles tensed; she gritted her teeth.

Waiving Jane to stand back, Mary addressed Elm in a soft tones, "Elm in your training in security procedures, you naturally were taught how to perform body cavity searches. Right?" Upon Elm's perfunctory nod, Mary inquired how the subjects were picked.

"Usually, we plucked detained persons from intake," Elm choked through her reply, "or rousted indenturees on Institute grounds."

"When I become director of the security academy," Mary announced, "the Security indenturees will practice on each other. Proceed, Jane."

Listening carefully, I wondered. Could Mary be a intell officer planted on my team?

Placing a hand on Elm's shoulder, Jane whispered audibly, "Relax, Ms Elmont. It's almost over. The ointment goes on cold, but in a jiff I'll warm it when work my fingers in."

"I'm on my period," Elm cringed.

Period? Most women in Security had in Dr Throop's words, "The baby factory shut down. Implanting a device to suspend the period is optional, with the individual. It cuts down the risk of an oops pregnancy and saves the Institute money. It is recommended."

Frolicking in the shower after a surgical procedure, I was kneeling in front of Dr Throop carefully working soap into her inner thighs, vaginal lips and clit. Hands gripping my shoulders, Dr Throop swayed as she held her head back and closed her eyes. "I almost lost you to the auction in a reduction of nursing staff."

I needed to hear more. I decided to push her button, massaging her clit with the pad of my finger. "I'd have been called aside without warning, stripped, shorn and shipped out like another set of tits and ass naked on the back of a truck, friends looking away or even looking through me."

"You were teaching anatomy in the Security school," Dr Throop cooed as she recalled, "I had an excuse to transfer you to Security, but I'm glad you're still willing to help me with these routine in -- and -- out surgery."

"Do you really need me to ready indenturees for market with routine snip, slice, shuck, and stitch procedures?" I protested as I leaned forward to lick her soapy clit. Her grip tightened, her nails dug into my trapezius muscles..

Continuing to sway, Dr Throop thanked me for assisting her, "I appreciate your emotional support. It isn't enough to say that the procedure controls toxic masculinity, curbs machismo aggression and checks wanderlust."

"Sterilization ensures a safe coupling," I observed as I caressed her soft rounded underbelly.

"Not bad for three surrogacies and," Dr Throop boasted as she guided my kisses down her belly over her mound to her clit, a pair of free - born children in a second marriage."

"A demanding position, a second husband, and a family," I answered lifting my head up to watch her breasts dangle as she swayed, "Yet you find spare some precious moments with me,"

Dr Throop sighed, "Selecting which men will be unmanned drones takes a heavy toll. It's playing God. How does your police type work compare with that?"

Shifting to digital stimulation I took a breath. Throat cleared, I reflected, "dealing with people, asserting authority is similar. Finding answers?" I paused to think, "Oh that's the same. After you've considered all possibilities and whittled away as many as you can, whatever you're left with has to be the answer."

"Hmm, in medicine we call that process a differential diagnosis," Dr Throop noted.

"And I thought that line came from Sherlock Holmes and not Dr Watson," I quipped.

I raised my bunched my forefingers together holding them up. Positioning positioned her body over my extended fingers and descending upon it. She squatted and spread her legs to couple with my fingers. Raising herself she crashed down on my clenched fist. I squeezed my full fist inside her.

Lifting an arm aloft, she acclaimed with such a roar it echoed off the tiled walls of the physician's shower, "I haven't had someone plant a fist that far inside me since my last delivery."