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| Nothing shocks him any more. |
by Dusty Miller
“Hey, soldier.”
“Huh?”
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.
“Soldier?”
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.
“Yes?”
“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.
“Ladies…please…”
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.
“Oh, no!”
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.
***
“Oh, God.”
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.”
“I see.”
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.”
“Whew.”
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.
“Well?”
“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.
Shit.
The doctor had no need to know any of this, of
course.
END
