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Subject: {ASSM} 6409 01/03 {Libertine} (M+F+ force oral anal voy toys enema bd sm tort)
Date: Fri,  4 Apr 2003 23:10:08 -0500
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"6409"
    by Libertine


"Welcome to womanhood." The words and endorphins in her brain,
the fading effects of tortured tits and intense orgasms,
convinced her she would never be the same. It was not her
wedding night, the way she had supposed it would be. She was
strapped to a table in a dungeon, yet she felt strangely happy.
How had it come to this? She tried to remember. It was only
weeks ago. She had gone through a door and...

The dean was, perhaps, in her forties. She stood straight and
trim, and was dressed in a sort of uniform, a white,
short-sleeved blouse with some sort of insignia on the shoulders,
a black skirt, a belt with a brass buckle with the letters AMA. 
"Welcome to the American Military Academy," said the dean. "You
realize, of course, we are not in the United States, and the
academy has no connection with the American military."

"Yes, I know."

"Tell me why you decided to enroll here."

"It was that or prison."

"What was your crime?"

"It's all there on the forms. Giving alcohol to a minor, and
manslaughter."

"Tell me how it happened."

"My senior year in high school, after I turned 18, my father had
to go to Europe on a business trip, and he took my mother with
him. Since I was then an adult, they left me in charge of the
house. We had only recently moved, and I felt so left out at
school. I mean, all the popular girls already had their friends,
their cliques, and I didn't fit in. So, one Saturday, I invited
six of the most popular girls to our house, for a swimming party.
I thought, you know, that they might like me better then. 
Well, after a while, guys started showing up. I said that I
hadn't invited them, but, of course, they wouldn't go. Someone
got into my parents' liquor cabinet, and the party got pretty
rowdy. When I threatened to call the police, my 'girl friends'
tied me to my bed, with my own stockings."

"And?"

"They pretty much trashed the house, had a wild party. Of
course, I couldn't see what was going on."

"They just left you there, tied up?"

"Oh, they'd check on me from time to time, and some of the boys
came in and looked me over, teased me about how they were going
to...to have sex with me in my own bed."

"How did you feel about that?"

"I was frightened."

"Of what?"

"Frightened that they really would rape me."

"It didn't thrill you a bit to contemplate that? Don't you enjoy
sex?"

"I'm a virgin. I'm not ready for sex."

The dean wrinkled her brow, as if perplexed. "Weren't you even a
bit aroused?"

"No. I was scared. I couldn't help it. I wet the bed."

"So, who did you kill?"

"I didn't kill anyone!  After a while, when it was dark out,
things quieted down. One of the girls loosened the knots that
held my left hand. They had me stretched out, you see, with my
wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. It took me a while to
get loose, and by then everyone had left."

"What did you do first, after you got free?"

"I went to the bathroom. And then I took a shower."

"And then?"

"I got dressed in my sweats and tried to clean up the house. I
changed the sheets on my bed and got rid of as much of the mess
as I could."

"Where does the manslaughter charge come in?"

"In the morning, I saw a boy, naked, drowned in the pool. I
didn't even know his name. I called the police, of course, and
they took me to jail. My "friends" lied, said I'd got him drunk
and took him out to the pool, after dark, saying I wanted him
to...to have sex with me. The prosecutor said I could get
fifteen years in prison. My lawyer said my life would be ruined
if I went to prison, but that if I would plead no contest, he
might be able to arrange some kind of probation or something."

"Your lawyer was Mr. Solomon, who contacted us."

"Yes. The judge agreed to a 'rehabilitation plan.' He would
suspend the sentence if I enrolled in a college, outside the
country, and earned a four-year degree. Then I could apply to
have my record cleared. If I fail to adhere to the plan, I go to
prison. It was all arranged, even before my parents got home."

"You understand the terms of your enrollment? As a scholarship
student, if you accept the work-study conditions, you are
obligated to stay here for six years or until you earn your
degree, whichever comes first."

"Yes. Mr. Solomon explained that I have to earn my tuition. My
parents couldn't afford to pay. At least, I'd never ask them 
to pay all that money for my mistakes. I understand the terms of
my probation."

"As a member of the Corps of Cadets, you will be subject to
military training and discipline. We're strict here: no smoking,
no drugs, no slacking off. You understand? Once you sign the
papers, you can't change your mind. There's no court you can
appeal to, saying you didn't know what you were signing."

"Yes, I understand."

"In lieu of the academy fees, $27,000 a year, you will work to
pay for your tuition and keep. You will work at whatever job you
are assigned to, which could include military combat. At first,
it might be cleaning toilets, or waiting on tables, or almost
anything, but as you learn new skills, your working conditions
will improve. You want an education, to prepare yourself for a
career. We need you prepared to earn good money, or we couldn't
afford to keep you here. Both you and the academy benefit."

"Yes, I know college isn't free. But I will get a diploma, a
degree."

"Yes, as long as you work hard and do as you are told. You must
obey every order, without question. Should you fail to do what
you are told, you will be subject to military discipline, which
may include corporal punishment. Quite frankly, you are selling
yourself into slavery, but you will get out of here with a
college degree, instead of a prison record. Are you ready to sign
the forms?"

"Yes."

After the formalities, her enlistment witnessed and notarized,
Cadet 6409-F (for female) was led to the medical office, where a
nurse took her temperature and blood pressure. "Recruit," the
nurse said, raising a stethoscope, "take off your dress and bra,
so I can listen to your heart and lungs." She went through the
routines, then told the half naked recruit sit on a table to have
her reflexes checked and give three vials of blood for the lab
tests. "6409, remove your shoes and panties." 6409 hesitated just
a moment. It was so strange, to just take off all her clothes in
front of another person, even in a nurse's office. "Quickly, now.
You'll learn to hop to it when you are given an order!" 6409
hastened to get naked. The nurse made her stand with her feet
apart and press her chest against the padded examination table. 
6409 heard the snap of latex gloves and felt a cool gel being
applied to her labia. "No, please! I'm a virgin."

"Silence, recruit!" A slippery finger probed 6409's vulva,
making her grunt. "Yes, she likely is a virgin," said the nurse.
"Very tight." 6409 turned her head to confirm her suspicion; the
dean was there, peering at 6409's exposed crotch.  The nurse
forced her finger through 6409's anus and swept the tip around
inside the rectum. "No contraband that I can feel," she said,
matter-of-factly. "So often they think they can bring drugs in
with them. OK, 6409, this way." In the next room, 6409 was posed
on a rotating stand, while a camera recorded her from every
angle. They measured her height, weight, head size, bust, waist,
hips, wrists and ankles. Then she was issued 8 white cotton
T-shirts with AMA and 6409-F stenciled across the front. She was
given 8 pair of black nylon shorts, like running shorts, with
6409-F in white across the back.  The nurse had her try on
black, canvas, rubber-soled slip-on shoes, and, when she found a
pair that fit well, she marked the insoles, 6409, with an 
indelible felt-tip marker. They put a strange sort of bracelets
on her wrists, black and rubbery, with some sort of metal
latches. When the ends were pushed together, there was a click,
and the joint was practically invisible. Blackened metal rings
came out of the rubber. There were anklets, too, which also had
metal rings. Finally, they gave her a chain necklace, almost like
a dog collar, with 6409-F on it. "You may dress now."

"I have no underwear."

"Cadets do not wear underwear. For one thing, it is unhealthy in
this climate. You'll be sweaty enough without underwear. For
another thing, it's too easy to conceal things in underwear."

"How will I hold my Kotex in place, without panties?"

"When you need them, you will be issued tampons."

"I can't wear tampons."

"You'll learn."

"No, I can't. I tried. I'm too tight. It hurt when I tried to
put one in."

"Show her," said the dean softly.

"OK, 6409," commanded the nurse, "assume the position." When
6409 looked baffled, "Press your tits against the table and
spread your legs!"  When 6409 complied, the nurse put on another
glove and held a pink plastic applicator in front of 6409's face.
Then the nurse approached her from her rear, pulled her shorts
down, and spread 6409's labia again.

"OW!" cried 6409 as the plastic invaded her virginal vagina, and
there was some pushing. In a moment, the applicator was pulled
out, leaving something strange and foreign filling 6409's vagina.
She could feel the string, dangling against the inside of her
thigh. She felt as if she had been raped.

"When did you have your last period?"

"About two weeks ago."

"You address superiors as Ma'am."

"About two weeks ago, Ma'am."

The nurse noted that on a form. "Sit here."  Before 6409 even
realized what was happening, the nurse had run dog clippers right
across 6409's scalp. In moments, the recruit's long, blonde
hair tumbled to the floor, leaving her entirely bald! The nurse
handed her a black beret, tested the fit, and marked the inside
white label with a black 6409. "Now, get dressed. You may not
wear your shoes. Cadets do not wear shoes unless told to."

Dazed, 6409 stepped into a pair of shorts and pulled on a 
t-shirt. She didn't mourn the loss of her hair, for she was
pre-occupied with the strange sensation of a foreign object
inside her and that silly string hanging down, the tip visible
below her shorts. In a few minutes, it seemed, she had gone from
being a middle-class high-school senior to being a frightened and
confused nobody, simply a number, in some strange unfeeling 
"corps" of cadets. Still, she rationalized, it wouldn't be as
bad as prison. She had heard stories of torture with cattle
prods, and prisoners being raped by bull dykes and sadistic
prison guards. This wasn't a prison. It was a school. The
nurse handed her a toothbrush. "Pick up your uniforms and wait
for orders. You are a RAT, 6409, Recruit At Training.  A RAT
does not speak unless spoken to. She does not do anything unless
ordered to, and she obeys instantly and without question."

"Attention!" A girl, much like herself, but with dark hair about
an inch long, barked at her. "Stand straight, RAT!"

"Corporal, take this RAT to the Foxtrot RAT barracks and show her
what to do."

"Through that door, forward, march. Left foot, RAT! You step
off with the left foot."  She was marched along a sandy path,
hot from the sun, almost burning her bare feet. "Your feet will
toughen up," volunteered the corporal. "You never want to leave
the paths. First, because it's against the rules, second,
because there are thorns and poisonous weeds and scorpions, and
other things that will make you wish you hadn't. Even with shoes
on, you wouldn't get very far. We're on an island, and the
water is full of sharp corals and stinging cnidarians and spiny
fish and, a bit off shore, sharks. Escape, as they say, is
impossible. Any questions, RAT?"

"Do cadets want to escape?"

"Some. Some people just can't take discipline. Girls are smart
enough not to try. Sometimes a guy will, though. They never
make it, and they always regret it."

"There are men here?"

"Lots. Most of them are paying students. You probably won't
meet any, unless The Academy wants you to. Actually, nothing
around here happens unless The Academy wants it to. "

"So, if a person tries to escape, they are punished?"

"Oh, yes. A few days in the hot box, and sometimes worse, after
that."

"Hot box?"

"It's a little iron shed that gets really hot in the sun. No
food, nothing to drink, nothing to do but sweat, really
uncomfortable. They shove a hose up your ass and keep you
hydrated, so you don't die of thirst."  Seeing that 6409 was
frightened, the corporal added, "That's just for serious
offenses. Most the time, when you screw up, the punishment is
just enough to make you wish you hadn't. It could range from a
swat on the ass by a sergeant to maybe an extra work detail. I
hate it when they make you clean out the grease traps in the
kitchen. Sometimes, it's a period of restraint. They give you
'points', and if you get too many, too fast, then the punishment
is more severe, like a public whipping. Don't worry, they'll
find something to punish you for. You just have to learn to take
it. It's part of your training. Like having to walk barefoot on
hot sand, it toughens you up. This is a military academy. You're
supposed to learn to take anything that comes your way. That's
the secret of success. Never give up. Take whatever they give
you and live to graduate."

The Foxtrot (for female) RAT barracks, like so many buildings in
the academy complex, was a one-story, windowless, concrete block
building with a corrugated iron roof. Openings above the floor
and below the eaves let in light and air; there was no
mechanical heating or cooling, and no interior walls. There was
no one there when 6409 and the corporal arrived. "Welcome to
Foxtrot Company. Your bunk is there, number 6409." The corporal
indicated the first unmade bunk in two rows down the center of
the room. The mattress was covered with plastic. The bed had
folded sheets and a pillow, but no blanket. "The temperature
here averages more than 80 degrees, Fahrenheit, warm enough that
you can sleep in the nude. We all do. I'll show you how to make
the bed. You have to get the corners just right, and the sheets
tight.  It's easier to keep your bed ready for inspection if you
just sleep on top of the top sheet.  This shelf is for your
toothbrush and uniforms and shoes. The mesh bag is for your
laundry.  I'll show you how they must be arranged. If they are
not right, or your bed is not tight enough, you get points. Now
there is your study station." There was a metal chair, a computer
monitor and a keyboard. "Most your academic lessons are
conducted electronically; so you have no need for pencil or
paper, and RATs are not allowed to have them."

"Can't I write home, Ma'am?"

"No. If your parents or the court want to know, the company
commander will give them a progress report. You can't get any
mail, either, unless it's something really important, like from
your lawyer. As far as you are concerned, there is no world
outside the academy, and you have no friends or family except
us." The corporal laughed. "Now, log on with your cadet number
and study your RAT facts, the rules and regulations and commands.
Memorize them. You are not allowed up to use the toilet until a
break bell sounds. You get five minutes every hour. Don't goof
off, because the computers monitor your responses, and if you
take too long to respond, you get points. Remember, if anyone
comes in, you can't speak unless spoken to, but you should stand
at attention awaiting orders. Don't, whatever you do, leave the
building until you are ordered to." She pointed to a small
surveillance camera high up on an end wall. "Being AWOL, absent
from your post without leave, is a serious offense." The
corporal left 6409 sitting at her screen, reading and responding
to the programmed instruction.

6409 wanted to pee and to remove that awful tampon, but the bell
wouldn't ring.  The toilets, she could see, were out in the open
along the end wall of the building, along with a trough which
served for washing. Nowhere was there any privacy. At last, the
bell rang, and 6409 sprinted for the toilets. She was sitting
there, with her shorts around her ankles, when several RATs came
in, led by a woman who looked as if she lifted weights. 6409
recognized the sergeant's arm bands and baton, a length of bamboo
as long as her arm. Hurriedly, she stood at attention, her
shorts around her ankles.

"Ah,ha! I spy a RAT. Welcome to Foxtrot, RAT," said the
sergeant. "Carry on with your business." 6409 was just wiping
herself when the end of break bell sounded, and all the RATs
lined up at attention. The sergeant walked down the line
inspecting them and stopped at 6409 Suddenly, she grabbed 6409's
T-shirt and pulled it up over her head. "Initiation time!" A
dozen hands grabbed the helpless 6409, who couldn't see, pulled
down her shorts, and they held her bent at the waist. The bamboo
baton whistled in the air and smacked 6409's bare bottom. She
screamed.

"No, RAT. You mustn't scream. AMA girls are tough. If you
scream, we have to start over again." There was another loud
whack. 6409 jerked reflexively, but she gritted her teeth and
merely grunted as the searing sting of the cane was replaced by
the deep ache of the bruise. Each girl, it seemed, at least a
dozen, took her turn  Some gave only a token whack, like the
spanking at a birthday party, but enough put their muscle into it
that, when she was released, 6409 could hardly stand. She pulled
her shirt down over her breasts, so she could see, and she bent
to raise her shorts. It hurt as the elastic waist band slid
across her tortured ass.

When she was ordered to return to her keyboard, she chose to work
standing up. The initial lessons explained the organization of
the academy and the basic rules Cadets live by. Cadets do not
lie, cheat, or steal, nor do they tolerate those who do. Failure
to report wrongdoing makes one an accomplice in the misdeed. 
There were long lists of rules, things a cadet must not do. One
thing that was forbidden was for a female cadet to go near the
male barracks or to be seen in the company of a male cadet or
even to talk with a male about anything except academy business. 
There was a shorter list of things a cadet must do. 6409
mentally summed them up. The mission of AMA is to train cadets,
and that involves anything the Commandant wants it to. A cadet
is, in fact, a slave, and must obey promptly and without question
all orders from a higher ranking cadet. Any cadet with hat brass
outranks a RAT. All orders, however unpleasant, must be executed
correctly, with vigor and enthusiasm. There were instructions
about marching and saluting. The academy mainly trained male
cadets, who, upon graduation, might find employment with any of
several "third world" armies or with mercenaries. Those who
chose to return to civilian life would be well educated and
self-confident, with a strong character and leadership skills
suiting them for executive positions. Alpha, Bravo, Cocoa,
Delta, and Echo companies, all male, and Foxtrot company, the
females, plus a Battalion Staff, made up the Corps of Cadets. 
Each company had a training platoon, for RATs, and there was a
special retraining detachment, where cadets deficient in
character or discipline could receive special attention
(punishment). For certain training and military operations,
individuals from Foxtrot Co. might be attached to one of the
other companies. All non-commissioned officers, NCO, and
officers, the Company Commanders and Staff, were cadets who had
earned promotion. There were only a few permanent employees,
mature adults, such as the Dean, the Commandant and the
medical staff.

While she was studying, two new RATs arrived, and 6409 surprised
herself by participating in the initiations. She would never
have hit someone in her former life. Already she was learning to
conform without question.

There was a bugle call for the evening meal, and the cadets
formed up for a head count. The mess hall was a huge building,
like an aircraft hangar, and the RATs were marched in last. They
stood at attention at their tables until they were allowed to go
through the serving line. Sitting on her bruised butt wasn't
pleasant, and she had to sit at attention, looking straight
ahead, eating with only one hand, not talking. Provosts,
sergeants with special red badges, enforced discipline with
bamboo canes, applied where they would get the attention of the
errant cadet, sometimes right across the breasts. Dinner was
beans and rice and some sort of greens, with tepid tea to drink. 
Afterward, in the gloom of dusk, NCOs drilled the Foxtrot RATs,
marching them back and forth, punctuating the marching with
exercises, like push-ups and squat thrusts.  At bedtime, they
sang the AMA song, undressed, and lay on their bunks. 6409,
still embarrassed to be seen naked, wanted to leave her shirt and
shorts on, but it was made clear to her that such non-conformity
would not be tolerated. It was dark, so being naked wasn't so
bad. She lay there, silent, and heard whispers. "You're
masturbating, aren't you!" "Yeh. I'm horny. I miss my boy
friend." "No sex for a while, I'm afraid." "When we get our hat
brass, there'll be plenty." "Yeh? How's that?" "I heard..." 
"Don't tell!" "Well, you'll find out." "Hah, the sergeant's a
lesbian." "Shut up. What do you know?" "Well, I can't wait to
get my hat brass and find out." Even sore as she was, 6409 slept
soundly.

Before dawn, the RATs were wakened by whistles and turned out,
naked, for exercises and a mile run, four times around a sandy
oval. 6409 marveled that she was running, naked, in public more
or less, following other naked women, the dawn sun gleaming off
shaved scalps and untanned behinds. She would never have believed
it could be, yet it was so. Somehow, in this academy or prison
or whatever it was, things were very different than they were at
home. As girls tired and stopped to rest, a sergeant would get
them moving again with swats of the cane. 6401, a heavy
Kentuckian, couldn't make it and was assessed 10 punishment
points. 6409 was staggering the last lap with a pain in her
side, but she was determined to avoid punishment, if she could.
Panting and wet with sweat, the RATs of F Company filed back into
the barracks through a kind of corridor. The weight of the cadets
on the slatted wooden floor turned on sun-heated water, which
sprayed them from all directions, from head to foot, leaving them
reasonably clean. There were no towels. They dressed and marched
to breakfast. There, each cadet was given a few pills and made to
swallow them while a corporal watched. The food was oatmeal,
mostly. Afterwards, they were marched along a path through the
surrounding forest for their morning work detail. To 6409's
surprise, only a few hundred yards from the academy was a resort
hotel, and the cadets staffed it. She spent the morning cleaning
bathrooms and making beds in the hotel rooms, always watched and
directed by an older cadet. The cadets were marched back for
their noon meal, mostly soup, and their afternoon studies.

Some distant computer dictated 6409's curriculum. After some
programmed drill on the RAT facts, which she was quickly
mastering, there was a college-level course on World History,
complete with some colorful videos. Then, to her dismay, there
was a session labeled "Vocational Training" which dealt with the
techniques of sucking a man's penis! The instructor in the
graphic video was a girl, obviously a cadet, though she was out
of uniform. 6409 was dismayed; she couldn't look, and, of
course, she couldn't make the required keyboard inputs which all
the instructional programs demanded, to keep the student's
attention. In no time, it seemed, an NCO appeared and marched
6409 out of the barracks to a nearby office. It was there,
while standing braced at an exaggerated position of attention,
that she met her company commander, Captain 5997.

The cadet captain, in some respects a younger edition of the dean
of women but remarkably beautiful, walked in a circle around the
immobile 6409. She eyed the RAT up and down while toying with a
riding crop. 6409 stood rigid, her eyes fixed on the screen
which showed what the surveillance camera saw, her classmates at
work. At one point the captain trailed the tip of the whip down
6409's spine, and then, turning to face her, she gently poked
6409's left breast, staring at the nipple, which was visible
under the sweat dampened t-shirt. "I like to get to know my
girl's, 6409. You may sit down." She gestured with the riding
crop toward an upholstered chair. 6409 sat on the very edge,
sitting at attention. "I give you permission to speak freely,
6409, and I expect you to tell me the truth.  You know the cadet
code, truth and duty and all that."

"Yes, captain."

"What did you think of the vocational training program?"

"It upset me. I'm sorry. I know I should have been more
attentive, but... "

"Most girls find it interesting, even exciting. Are you a
lesbian or something?"

"No! No, captain."

"What disturbed you about it?"

"I, I couldn't imagine doing that. I was taught...I just
don't think I could. I mean, that's not my vocation."

"But it is, 6409. You need to earn your keep, the equivalent of
$27,000 a year. This is a poor country, with depressed wages. 
Even if you worked 80 hours a week as a hotel maid, not just
mornings, you couldn't earn that much here. No, your real work
is at night, entertaining the hotel guests." 6409 couldn't speak.
"My dear, you look as if you are ill. Is something the matter?"

6409 hesitated, shaken, yet trying to sit at attention. "Captain,
ma'am, I am not a whore."

The beautiful officer approached 6409 and, with the crop in her
left hand, she lifted 6409's chin, so that she could look down
into the RAT's eyes. With her right hand, she touched, caressed,
6409's left breast. For several seconds, they gazed silently at
each other. 6409 blinked first. "All right," the captain said,
"you are not a whore, yet. You are old enough, but you are not
yet a woman, not yet a whore. You will be. It is fundamental
psycho-biology. All women are whores. It is our role in life,
to find and please the men who will provide for us, who will care
for and protect us. A man is attractive in direct proportion to
the size of his bank account."  The captain let her right hand
fall. "Oh, yes, you will get a college degree here, but that
won't make you happy. You must learn to be a woman.  We will
teach you. You don't believe me, do you?  You are an ignorant
child. Your body does not respond as a woman's would.  Fear
not, we will train you. You will become, as they say in the
marines, a lean, mean, fighting machine. We will hone your
reflexes, train your body, mold your mind. You will thank us for
it.  I can see it in your eyes. You don't believe me." The
captain moved back to her desk chair and leaned back, crossing
her shapely legs. "Do you think I'm beautiful? No, I don't 
mean are you sexually attracted to me. I believe you when you
say you are not a lesbian. Do you think men think I'm
beautiful?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"When I came here, I was a mess, flabby and heavy and
unattractive. AMA made me what I am today. At 18, I had no
prospects; I was worthless shit, strung out on drugs, the whole
dreadful story. At 24, I am somebody, and when I leave here,
I'll have what it takes to go anywhere, do anything I want, never
having to worry about money. Why? Because AMA taught me how to
please a man, especially a rich man. You have the raw material. 
You are a natural blonde, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Well, kind of light brown, maybe, honey blonde."

"And they tell me you are a virgin."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I can believe that. Your nipples tell me that.  They are dead,
expressionless. When a woman is turned on, her pupils dilate and
her nipples harden."

"You don't expect me to be turned on by you, do you, captain?"
The older woman just smiled. "While I have you here, I have some
questions. When did you first start having periods?"

"About three years ago, when I was fifteen, ma'am. I was a late
bloomer, they say, captain."

"Yes, I can believe that. Your type, tall, long legs, often the
result of delayed puberty. Men like it, though.  Have you had
many boy friends?"

"Not many, captain."

"How many."

"Well, one, captain, only one that I went steady with. Howard,
before we moved."

"Did you love him?"

"I liked him. I don't think I was in love, captain."

"And you are still a virgin. How far did you go with him?"

"I'm not sure, captain, what you want to know. I told you, I'm a
virgin."

"Did he feel you up? Play with your breasts? Finger-fuck you? 
What did you do together?"

"Uh, nothing, I guess, captain. We used to go for walks, and go
to the movies, or bowling."

The captain shook her head, as if in disbelief. "You are going
to require a special training regimen. Like turning a flower into
a ripe fruit. Special nurturing. All right, 6409, go on back to
your barracks, and pay attention to your vocational training. 
There will be a quiz."  6409 stood and turned to go. "Stop!" 
The captain gently pulled 6409's shorts down. "I see they
initiated you."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You know they are not supposed to do that, corporal punishment
without good reason. You want to press charges?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Good. It's a tradition of sorts. Establishes the pecking
order. You are at the bottom. Don't stay there. Stand up for
yourself."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The next night, after lights out, the captain came and took 6409,
still naked, back to her office. She handed 6409 a rubber dildo.
6409 licked and caressed it and sucked it, as the girl did in
the training video, and the captain seemed pleased. Quietly, 6409
returned to her bed, but it was a long time before she fell
asleep. What was she becoming?


         -- Continues in part two here in this newsgroup --


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