|Nothing shocks him any more.|
by Dusty Miller
Private First Class Tom Brannigan was walking from his personal vehicle, way out in the lot, towards the gaping maw that was the front of Wal-Mart here in this creepy little northeastern town. He needed some toothpaste, and couldn’t get his favourite brand at the base Px.
She really was talking to him. It was a nice-looking young girl, with her head sticking out of the window of a big and shiny white cube van. She was waving and beckoning him over.
Looking behind him quickly, so as not to get knocked over by a car, he went up between the passenger side of the cube van and another big grey pickup truck with a topper on the box.
“I wonder if you could help me.”
She opened her door, and the van rocked a bit for some reason. In one corner of his consciousness, he heard the door at the back going up, but there was obviously someone else in there. She was in the passenger side after all.
“Yes? So, what seems to be the…” Tom literally yelped when about six young women came around the end of the van, and the girl got out of the passenger door, shoved him out of the way, quickly closed it partially, whipped through the gap and then held the door wide open against the cab of the grey pickup to his right.
“What! Whoa!” The girls grappled with him and pushed.
Now someone inside the cab of the cab was pulling at him, and it happened so fast Tom was halfway up on the passenger seat before he knew it. “Whoa! Hey, hold on!”
Six girls outside, plus the door girl for backup, ensured that the two girls struggling with Tom in the cab won the day. More hands inside the capacious back bay of the vehicle tugged and pulled and clasped as Tom struggled, cursing, babbling in shock, taken totally by surprise and stunned beyond reasoning.
“Oh, my God! No! What—”
The back door was already closed again. He heard the slam of one of the two front doors. He fought for breath as two or three young women sat on him, one of them right on his mouth, arguably to shut him up.
More young women popped in through the intervening hatch from the front end and the motor fired up.
Another door slammed. That’s all he knew.
Tom shut up and stopped struggling. The girl’s ass came up enough for him to catch a breath.
The bum came down again as the vehicle began backing out of the constricted space with a lurch.
They had Tom stripped down naked and duct-taped to a pine bench running long-ways in the back. From the brief glimpse he’d gotten, the bench looked like something out of a college changing room.
There were ten, twelve, fifteen of them, maybe more, bumping and swaying as the vehicle moved along, all standing there laughing and looking down at him.
He stared wildly up at them.
“Why are you doing this?” He shouted in vain even as the girls, all of them appearing to be between eighteen and maybe twenty-two years old, shouted and giggled right back. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Some of their remarks were awful. There was swift movement down at the end.
The first girl’s mouth latched onto his cock, erect and certainly beyond any rational control at this point.
Another girl came up beside his head and carefully pointed at a camera mounted up in the left front corner of the box.
“Smile, Baby, you’re on Candid Camera.”
Then she lifted a leg over his head and sat down on his face. She began to gasp and moan and gyrate. The sweet and not unfamiliar taste and smell of good clean pussy invaded all of this senses as the other girl did her best to polish his member to a new-car shine. He needed to breathe and his vision began to sparkle and twirl around the edges…
The rest shouted and screamed and shrieked and giggled as they passed a bottle. Then they got quiet. They were passing around some kind of glass pipe issuing wreaths of slightly acrid smoke. The only other noise was the whisper of wind and the whine of the tires going down the boulevard.
The only time he saw much was when they changed over.
A slender Asian girl mounted him, gazing deep into his face.
“Hi, lover.” She closed her eyes and started to slide up and down his member, then the view was blanked out again by yet another vagina ramming down on his face.
Tom had an orgasm inside the third one, this one a cuddly little blonde girl with pouty lips, silky, curling hair and firm, high breasts.
She managed to get her mouth up to Tom’s ear while his face was empty for a moment.
“I’m not on the pill.” She said that with shining eyes and the most serious intent on her face.
He had to say something. Anything.
“Nothing shocks me anymore.”
“You’re cute.” Then she sat up and went to work and another pussy homed in, this time he thought it was the Hispanic girl, tall, leggy and with straight black hair down to her ass.
The next one wanted him alone. She was kind of heavy, and he stared up at her. She seemed a little older.
This one was here for the sex, for God’s sakes, and her performance was something to watch. Finally she moaned, thrashed, and the girls, lining up on each side of the bench clapped and cheered as hot sweat dripped onto Tom. The woman collapsed on him, knocking what little breath he had out of him.
His ordeal was just beginning.
“So how is he?”
The doctor looked at the Captain.
“Well. He’s certainly disoriented, and physically drained.”
The Captain chewed his lip.
Finally he spoke.
“Do you believe him?”
“Well. I’ll put it to you this way. The patient has weals, welts,scrapes, marks, bruises, swellings…traces of drugs in his system. We have plenty of hair removed, forcibly…that’s when someone pulled the tape off of him. He certainly ejaculated, more than once. We have all kinds of unidentified DNA. Many, many, different samples. So I would say, yes, something happened to him.”
Private Brannigan had been found wandering around in the Wal-Mart parking lot, incoherent, drunk, stoned, reeking of drugs, lipstick all over his face, and his A-Dress uniform remarkably disheveled.
There were some shocked passers-by, but a former military man, thinking on his feet, collared Brannigan. He had called the MPs, and thank God for that.
“Do you think it really happened, Doctor? I mean, just the way he said?” Tom Brannigan was a good soldier, but this sort of thing could put a real crimp in a promising young man’s career.
The Army hated liars. If you went on a bender, own up to it and take your punishment like a man. It earned a lot more respect.
The Captain considered what he knew of Brannigan.
It was hard, but not impossible to believe…it could be true.
The doctor took the Captain over to his personal desk, as evidenced by pictures tacked up on the wall of his wife, his kids and his dog.
He pointed at a camera, already plugged into a port on the computer. He clicked on an icon, leaning over the desk, and then clicked on a folder. He clicked on the first image.
“There it is.” He shuttled through.
The doctor had taken a dozen pictures, making sure he got a good one.
“What in the hell is that?”
“That, Captain…is Alpha Beta Chi, written in lipstick on Private Brannigan’s chest.”
The Captain thought.
“That really doesn’t prove anything. Ah, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t, Captain. However, there is one point you might consider.”
The Captain looked up from the screen. There could be little doubt, that’s what it was. The Greek symbols were familiar enough from his own college days.
“It’s too good a story to make up.”
There was a long silence.
“Any recommendations, Doctor? Strictly off the record?”
“Who, me? Other than getting my own ass down to that Wal-Mart parking lot, why no, I haven’t got a clue. But my point is this, Captain—if it happened the way he said it happened, why, then, ah, maybe, maybe, it really could have happened. But if it happened in some other way, it seems so much less likely—all of those DNA samples, don’t you know.”
The Captain thought some more.
“Yeah—I hear you.”
He shook his head.
“Wow.” That was it—just wow.
“Anyway, we have Private Brannigan rehydrated, and we got some soup into him. He’s under light sedation—not that he needed much. He’s been all cleaned up. I’d like to keep him here for observation. A minimum of seventy-two hours. That’s mostly for psychological assessment. But, in my opinion, your boy is going to be just fine.”
“Ah. Yes. Good.”
The air was heavy with something unsaid.
The doctor sighed.
“It’s just…it’s just that…” The Captain was hesitant to put it into words.
The only school in the area that remotely qualified as a university was very exclusive.
It was a private school.
Students came from some of the most influential, the richest, and most powerful families in America. He thought the Vice-President’s daughter was enrolled there. He’d seen something about it on TV, or at least thought he had.
He had no idea of how they were going to keep Brannigan’s mouth shut.
The odds were that it couldn’t be done.
The doctor had no need to know any of this, of course.