This story is about a boy who is reluctantly conscripted into the Military Intelligence of a fictional futuristic army, nearly thirty years from now.
Emails may be sent to yodawgs.blnet@gmail.com
"Private Michael C. Brown!" The officer's crisp voice barked through the microphone. A five-foot two boy stepped out of the seemingly neverending line of conscripts for the Pan-Western Coalition, year 2030. Blonde-streaked brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, fear on his face, the private stepped forward, trembling slightly in his uniform; black trousers with white camouflaged stripes bearing the colour and insignia of the battalion. His mole-infused bare back was drenched in sweat due to the high temperature of the recruitment station. Grey pupils dilated with fear, he crept up to the officer at a snail's pace, unwilling to meet the inevitable. The officer's hand smacked the table.
The boy started.
"Get a move on! Come on!" the officer shook his head impatiently. A man of low disposability, the ruddy faced lieutenant was running short on his wits. As the boy raised his right hand to his brow in a salute, the officer did not bother to wait, and continued.
"Private Brown, you are assigned to the 21st Squadron of the Mechanised Infantry Regiment. You will also be assigned a partner, who is higher than you in rank. He will make sure that you follow the rules of this army, or pay for it! Do you understand me, private?!" The officer barked again.
"Y-yes..." a faint reply was audible from Private Brown.
"Yes SIR!" came the loud correction. "Now get out of my sight!"
"Sergeant Lewis, remove this scum in front of me." The Tennessean accent was crisp. The black eyes of the officer resembled an abyss, an unreadable rift in reality to Private Brown. He shivered despite the heat, and a cold sweat started to form on his white un-tanned chest, which was also decorated by brown moles the size of pin-pricks.
"Private Stuart F. Barton!" the officer shouted. With relief, Brown knew that he had been dismissed. A nervous black haired Caucasian glanced around the room fearfully before stepping forward.
"Private! If you would follow me, please." A pubescent voice, British accented, summoned him. He absent-mindedly followed the source of the voice; out a side-door.
As soon as the private stepped out of the office, he shivered in the air-conditioning of the adjacent room. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around himself in order to generate as much heat as possible. He realised that his dime sized, almost-invisible pink nipples were painfully erect as a result of the cold, losing their puffiness and making their shape significantly more evident. Embarrassed of this, he folded his arms on his chest, hiding them from view. Goosebumps began to form along his abdomen.
Standing in front of him was a fourteen-year old sandy-haired boy, whom he assumed to be his assigned companion. He looked at the boy's shoulder just to be certain. His suspicions were affirmed, when he noticed the four "V"s branded upon the shoulder of the five-foot four boy. The sergeant was staring down at him with what he assumed to be impunity. The older boy donned a military eyepiece, shaded in blue, which showed various tactical details through the translucent poly-fibrous plastic.
"Yes, I'm your assigned companion." Sergeant Lewis confirmed. "You look cold. Don't worry, though. You will be able to control your body temperature, once the hydrostatic gel is injected into your body, and once we get the Dynamic Infantry Life Support System set up."
The superior pointed to a metal contraption attached to his belt. Brown noticed a single wire running out of the machine, stretching to the back of Sergeant Lewis' muscular, developing body. He stepped around his superior, and realised that the wire was "plugged" into the spinal cord of Lewis' body, at the point there the two kidneys were opposite one another. He gasped.
"Am I gonna be like that as well?" he asked, a feeling of dread entering him. "Sir?" he quickly added.
"Of course you are, private. Everybody here has to go through it one time or another."
"Will it hurt, sir?"
"No pain, no gain, private. Obviously you must endure some discomfort, or life wouldn't be good, would it?"
"Oh." Private Brown looked positively faint, entire body turning white. He started to tremble, both because of the cold, and the impending pain that he would be facing. Private Lewis looked down at him, piercing blue eyes reading his every emotion.
"We're running late. You're the last recruit of this batch, so, off we go." He gestured to a door, and Brown hesitantly walked through it.
"What's gonna happen?" he dared to ask Lewis, as they were walking down the corridor that lay behind the door.
"You are going to get your rank implanted onto you. This, like many of the programs that you will have to undergo here, will be painful, but not excruciating."
"What is?" Brown continued, a feeling of panic rising up in his chest. Lewis was just about to answer, when they stopped at a metal door, sealed by a eccentric-looking security system.
"Hold on." Lewis inhaled deeply, stepped up to the clearance system, and raised both hands high above his head, gripping the handlebars that hung from the top of the machine. Brown admired the body of his superior in front of him. He admired the stretching of the deltoids of the teenager, along with the sudden exposure of the ribs. He desperately wanted to see the front torso, but could not, as the machine shielded him from doing so.
"Sergeant Cayden Llewellyn Lewis." He said clearly into the microphone. He then held his breath and waited, eyes screwed shut. Private Brown wondered what was going on.
"Voice identified." The voice recognition system stated. "Standby for hydrostatic verification."
In a nano-second, three needles pierced Sergeant Lewis' cherry sized pink nipples and protruding navel. There was a sucking noise, and Brown saw the transparent pipes adjoined to the needles currently embedded in his companion's body slowly fill with green viscous fluid.
"Uh!" Lewis cried out with pain. "God!" he trembled involuntarily as intense pain overcame him. He breathed in and out heavily, while his knuckles went white as his hands clutched the handlebars in a vicelike grip. Brown was horrified at the procedure. He was oblivious to this type of action from where he came; Seattle, USA.
"Hydrostatic gel verified. Welcome, Sergeant Lewis." The needles re-inserted the fluid back into Lewis' body, and retracted back into the machine.
"Ahh!" the fourteen year old sergeant screamed, as the sensitive flesh of his nipples was disrupted by the two-millimetre in diameter needles. He stepped down from the machine and massaged the areas, paying more attention to his nipples rather than his navel. All three areas were bleeding the green substance. For some reason, Private Brown found the Lewis' action of rubbing his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, along with eyes screwed shut in pain and ecstasy strangely erotic. Lewis finally opened his blue eyes and stared at Brown, pain still etched on his freckled face. He staggered off the machine, clutching his stomach.
"Come on, then. It's because of you that I had to undergo that. Being so late and all." He ushered Brown into the room, voice cracking.
Inside the room were ten other boys, clad in the trousers of the Coalition. Five of the boys were seated in uncomfortable metal chairs, while the other five were about the same age as Sergeant Lewis, and had their ranks implanted onto them. He wondered how the "V"s and the stripes were inserted. They had colour, but they did not look like they were attached to the skin of the boys. They looked as if they had GROWN out of the skin on the shoulders and breast. He also noticed that some of the ranks were imbued onto the soldiers' left breast, above the nipple, while some, like Sergeant Lewis' were implanted on the left shoulder.
"Take a seat, private." Lewis pushed him onto the last remaining metal chair. He yelped as his bare back touched the freezing metal of the chair. Again, he was aware of his erect nipples, and attempted to hide them by folding his arms.
"Don't be so uptight, private. Let loose a little." Lewis tugged his arms loose, and placed them on his abdomen, where they now covered his deep navel. The sergeant then proceeded to adjust some dials on the machine at his pouch. When he pressed the "Confirm." Button, he went rigid for a few seconds, eyes closed, while the skin on his body stretched, revealing his form. Then, it passed, and Sergeant Lewis was no longer trembling with pain, nor shivering with cold. The other boys on the chairs seemed as intrigued as Private Brown, and stared at Sergeant Lewis with wide-open eyes.
"I was cold." Lewis grinned.
A metal door opened, and an attractive brown haired lady dressed in a white medical lab coat strode across the room. She gazed upon all the stricken faces, the shivering half-naked bodies, and the companions standing over their wards.
"Who shall we start with first?" she asked no one in particular. Then, suddenly, with a jolt of panic, Brown made eye contact with her.
"How about this fellow here? He's got the same hair as I do." She trilled. "Well, almost." She added, after seeing the blonde and white streaks of Brown's hair.
"Private... err..." she glanced down at the nameplate by his empty utility belt. "Brown." She completed.
"Where would you like your rank to be etched upon?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" he replied timidly.
"Oh." She laughed. "You can choose to have your rank displayed on your shoulder..." she tapped his bare left shoulder, which grew goose bumps as a result, "or on that cute little chest of yours." She pressed her thumb onto Brown's left breast, flicking his light pink nipple.
"Nghh." He let out a soft moan, arching his body towards her fingers, unable to take the sensation. He went red with shame as he corrected himself.
"Lieutenant Ward." Lewis' voice echoed in the room. The girl started.
"Oh right. So where would you like it, soldier?"
Brown hesitated. He glanced around the room, trying to find something to influence his decision. Then, suddenly, he thought of Sergeant Lewis. He wanted to be as cool and forward as his companion. And that was more than enough as an influencing factor.
"Shoulder, please." He replied.
"Okay!" she acknowledged. "Standby."
She drew out a sealed needle from within her breast pocket and tore open the plastic covering. She flicked the needle and slowly approached Private Brown.
"This will hurt, private. A lot." She jammed the needle onto his shoulder, depressing the butt of the syringe. Intense pain shot through Brown's shoulder, and he whimpered with agony, screwing up his eyes and pushing up his face to heaven. He held his breath at first, but remembered what Lewis had done, and started breathing in and out, controlling the breaths, although they were loud and deep. His free hand gripped the handlebar of the chair, steaming up the area around it.
"Ahh..." his chest expanded in and out as he tried to cope with the pain. The other four boys who were seated stared at him, horror etched in their faces. One private, a tanned dirty blonde boy on the verge of crying, tried to rise to escape from the impending torment, but was pushed back in the metal chair with a stern warning by his partner, a lanky red-headed warrant officer.
Brown felt the needle extricate itself from his skin with a sting. He let out a cry of pain and began to frantically nurse the afflicted area. Although the needle prick was shallow, it seemed to have altered the cell structure of his shoulder by a significant amount. He rubbed his shoulder, gazing reproachfully at Lieutenant Ward. The skin now looked red and inflamed, although a yellow tinge was now visible. He looked up at Sergeant Lewis for further explanation. Lewis raised an eyebrow and put a finger to his lips, signifying silence.
"Now, what do we have here?" he heard Ward comment, as she moved on to a dark-haired boy who looked no older than eleven years. The boy gazed tearfully up at her with green eyes, pupils dilated with fear. Further mutterings were immaterial to Brown, so he leant back against the metal chair, sucking in his breath as his back made contact with the cold stainless steel. Behind him, Lewis stepped forward and leant on his chair, placing both hands on the back of the chair, while sighing.
Brown felt Sergeant Lewis' fingers on his raw shoulder and gave a hiss of pain, glaring up at him. Lewis' unreadable face stared down at him, and the pressure on his throbbing skin was relieved considerably when Lewis' finally withdrew his hand after a few seconds. Brown was surprised. What exactly had Lewis' done? He half-turned in his seat as another member of his squadron cried out in pain and looked curiously at the sergeant. Lewis maintained a stoic expression, staring ahead. Brown looked around at the other personnel in the room. He realised with a jolt that none of them sported the same rank as Lewis, the highest being a Lance Corporal. He knew enough about the insignia of the Coalition to figure out that Sergeant Lewis was the highest in command, and probably the leader of the squad. He stared hard at the four Vs with a circle at the bottom embedded into Lewis' shoulder that signified that he was a staff sergeant.
"Wow." He thought to himself. He had just been enlisted and assigned to the squad leader. He realised with shock at the treatment and disrespect that he had given Lewis. Here was a staff sergeant, with probably more years of experience that he, Brown, had even lived for. He wondered about the ingredients of the hydrostatic gel that was to be injected into him. With a shudder, a suspicion that it may have life-prolonging and maintaining properties came to him. Sergeant Lewis was probably many more years older than him in maturity, but his body certainly did not look the worse for wear and tear.
He checked his shoulder again. With surprise, he noticed that the swelling had gone down, and had been replaced by a very faint upside-down "V" with a blue tinge, signifying the colour of the squad. Lewis' yellow insignia simply meant that he was the squad leader. Brown composed his thoughts amidst the loud yells and whimpering of pain. Five minutes later, the female officer stood her full height, massaging her calves on the way up. The whole room was filled by the sound of pained breathing and faint "Uh..."s of pain, as the privates struggled to take away the pain. He rejoiced that he had chosen the shoulder for his rank to be imbued, for privates that had chosen the chest were bent over with agony, clutching their breasts, while moaning in pain. "To your feet, squad!" Lewis' voiced barked with a ferocity that Brown had not heard before. He got to his feet, eager to leave the freezing room. He turned and faced Lewis, who was already standing by another metal door, leading presumably to a personnel carrier that would eventually transport them to their home base. A few moans were heard as the privates got into line behind him. Lewis pressed a button which caused the doors to hiss open, and motioned for the higher ranked personnel to exit the room. After a few seconds of clattering feet as the higher ranked marines filed out of the room, unusually silent for thirteen-year old boys, Lewis beckoned to Brown and Brown followed the staff sergeant into the corridor.
Brown could feel the hot torso of the brown haired boy from before pressing onto his back, the chest and the abdomen slightly bulging out and making their presence known. He guessed that the boy had chosen his chest for the rank implant. He pitied his squad mate, and allowed the boy to lean against him all the way out into the hot, thirty-six degree Nevada desert. He concentrated on the half-developed back of the sergeant, paying attention to the elaborate pattern of the spine as he marched behind him. An armoured personnel carrier and a Hum-vee with dual-mounted chain-guns were throbbing in the background. The higher-ranked members of the squad were already seated in the Hum-vee, and were sweating in the heat.
Brown's shoulder prickled. His implant was adjusting to the sudden change of temperature. While it did not hurt in the least, it caused a strange pleasant sensation to his shoulder, as if someone were gently caressing it. The private behind him gave a small groan of relief, and leant even more onto his back, transferring sweat to his body. Lewis motioned to the APC, and Brown patted the private on the shoulder before walking briskly to the transport, boy-soldiers in tow.
In a matter of moments, the APC was filled with the sweat and the smell of mid-pubescent boys. The engine of the machine thrummed softly in the background for a few seconds, and then Lewis stepped in, and took a seat at the head of the vehicle.
"Right, then. We're heading off to Germany, where our regiment's headquarters are. You shall receive the hydrostatic augmentation at our home base. This gel..." he depressed a few buttons on the contraption attached to his utility belt, sending a dribble of green fluid out of his navel, which he duly collected, "enhances your natural resistance to diseases."
He took Brown's hand and applied some gel to it. Brown's immediate thought was that the gel seemed extra light; as though it was not there at all. He lifted it to his face, and smelt it. The familiar aroma he smelt when he was around Lewis immediately made its presence known in his mind, along with a faint synthetic smell. He put some gel onto the dark haired private beside him, who immediately did the same thing, sniffing it and applying it onto the palm of a flushed-bodied blonde.
"It also heightens your threshold to pain, and acts as a substitute to the heavy Kevlar body armour that's practically useless for the ammunition that the enemy is using." Lewis continued. Brown wondered exactly what enemy they were going to be fighting. He knew nought of the invisible war that was being waged between the Coalition and the Liberal Freedom Fighters, terrorists that threatened to overcome the world with toxic gas and pain submission.
"This additional implant will have to be earned, when the Coalition sees you as fit enough, and when you have developed enough. We don't want kids on our team, do we?" he asked rhetorically. "It will be a three hour long ride to the airfield, and another four hour flight in an A-10 Thunderbolt to Munich International Airport. The use of such a heavily armoured transport is necessary because of the flak emplacements of the enemy in the Atlantic Ocean. Enjoy the ride, comrades." He looked pleased at success of the use of the Russian synonym.
At that point, he felt a sudden pressure on his right shoulder, and realised that the dark-haired boy was once again looking for an outlet for the discomfort in his chest, without obviously letting Brown know his intentions. The boy was subtly placing his chest in such a way that it looked like occasional bump caused by the APC would cause his chest to press onto Brown's shoulder.
Brown grinned, and reached over to pat the private's shoulder again. He glanced at the nameplate beside the private's belt. Fritz Fuchs, he read. This person had to be of German or European descent. The private had high cheekbones, along with stunning green eyes.
"Fritz, it's alright. You can lean on me if you want to. I don't mind." He told the shocked private. He turned his body to face Lewis, intending to ask him more questions.
"Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me. I haven't had sleep for over a day, and my chest hurts like crazy." Fuchs replied gratefully, with an American accent and proceeded to rest his sweaty, tired torso on Brown's back. Brown was surprised at the lack of foreignism in his speech, but decided to give Fuchs a break. Fuchs gave a sigh of relief, "Ohhh..." and snaked his arms around Brown's shirtless body, gripping it by the kidneys. Brown enjoyed the sensation of another body against his, and attempted to make eye contact with Lewis, who was apparently reading some information off his eyepiece.
Eventually Lewis finished, and faced him.
"Looks like you've got yourself a new friend there, private." Lewis commented.
"Naawww, I think he's just tired. He shouldn't have chosen the rank to be implanted on his chest."
"Really? And how would you know?" Brown blushed.
"I used you for an example."
"Oh." Came the reply. Brown could feel Fritz' soft, shallow breaths on his shoulder, along with the expansion of the chest and abdomen of the private behind him, and assumed that he had fallen asleep. The grip on his kidneys was not as tight.
"Sir?" he said softly.
"Just call me Cayden, private... I mean, Michael." Lewis stuttered. "We're partners now, mate, and I'd be knackered if I were to keep calling you private for the whole of our assigned time together."
"Okay... Cayden, how will we get the hydrostatic gel into us?"
Lewis chuckled.
"Didn't you see me outside that room just now? It's the same thing, only that the machine will inject a load more, and it'll hurt a lot more than that."
With a chill, Brown remembered the agony that Lewis had suffered, and quailed to think of the pain that he would have to endure in less than a day.
"Your tits and your belly button are going to be much more sensitive after that." Lewis continued. "It will hurt for a while, but only until your body gets used to the foreign substance. After that, you'll feel much more... excited, when these things are touched." He reached over and stroked Brown's nipples, lightly pinching them in the middle, causing Brown to swoon slightly and arch his back toward Lewis, moaning softly with ecstasy. The other privates in the APC were staring at both of them, Brown with his eyes squeezed shut in that moment of ecstasy, with another boy latched onto him and Lewis, with an amazingly stern and straight face, hands on Brown's torso. They began chattering after a few seconds, breaking the ice.
"So why does the Coalition recruit people like us for soldiers? Wouldn't adults be better suited to do the job?" Brown inquired.
"Well, it takes much less effort and money to train younger people, especially adolescents, in anything. I suppose someone took that idea and transformed it into warfare." Lewis shrugged. "Can't say I blame him, though. War statistics have shown that we have an increased efficiency of about twenty-three percent in the battlefield. Guess the theory works."
"How old are you, Michael?" Lewis asked.
"I'm thirteen. Just turned last month." Brown replied.
"Oh."
"Why?"
"I was just wondering whether you would like to stay like this for many years to come." Lewis admitted. "You see, the hydrostatic gel prolongs your life, and in doing so, sort of freezes your body in a static... err... position, I guess. You'll remain like this for a long time. But of course, you'll feel much younger and suppler than most adults." He rambled on.
"Oh right..." Brown struggled to comprehend the fact that his features would not change for a long time. "How long have you been in the coalition?" he asked Lewis.
"About five years." Was the reply. Brown gasped. Lewis had been alive much longer than he did, but did not look much older than him in years. He kept the comment to himself, however.
"Is there a certain criteria for being a soldier of the Coalition?" he asked.
"Sure there is. Why else did you think you were drafted in the first place?" The answer shocked Brown.
"Umm..." he struggled to recall exactly how and why he had been enlisted.
"All of you have been enlisted because of three factors; your physical appearance, durability, and finally, your superior intelligence." Lewis answered his own question. "The coalition has been keeping an eye out for all of you ever since you were born, as they did with me."
Brown was about to interrupt, with the notion of denying his intelligence to the point that Lewis had described. He was the average person in his classroom, never shining, never fading as well. He did not stand out at all, or so he thought. Lewis cut him off.
"Not THAT type of intelligence. What I'm talking about is the ability to adapt to circumstances, and use things to your own benefit. Now, I don't know when and where you were in a spot of trouble throughout your life, but something must have happened in order for the Coalition to take an interest in you." With a jolt, Brown recalled the time when he had skived Mathematics class by hiding in the boys' toilet. He spotted a duty officer approaching from one of the windows, and fell into a state of panic. He had not a hall pass, so he was due in for some trouble. What he had done was to simply stand behind the door as the officer opened it, and when the officer stepped further in the toilet, sneak past him, and pretend as though he was merely looking into the toilet. The duty officer glared at him, and told him to clear off, which he did, gratefully.
He smiled, as Fuchs let out a little sigh onto the back of his ear, and shifted slightly, allowing Brown to feel more of the bumps and humps of his teenage torso as he wriggled into a more comfortable position. Lewis grinned.
"What's your friend's name?" Brown admired the way Lewis pronounced "What", making it "Wot", in the orthodox British style.
"Oh, I don't even know him. His name's Fritz." Brown replied.
"It's nice to see that you're helping out your squad mates. Most of you here aren't aware of the fact that we're going to be together for quite a long time, unless one of us is unfortunately killed in action, or if I'm promoted." He joked. "So it's prudent that you get to know each other as well as possible. It's essential, if you hope to survive in the battlefield. There will be an icebreaking session when we get to our location, before you get the gel injected into you and your combat systems connected."
The mention of the gel again brought chills up Brown's spine. He hated pain, but he knew that he was going to feel much more of it in the coming day. Lewis noticed his white face, and patted him in the middle of the chest, making a hollow thumping noise.
"Don't worry, it will only be for a few days, that the pain will last." He paused, savouring the look of horror on Brown's face.
"Only joking. It will hurt for a few minutes, and ache for the next week. Your entire front, I mean." He stroked Brown's chest and stomach. "But don't worry, Michael. I found out how to alleviate the pain by my own squad mate some time ago. Don't ask me now, I'll show it to you."
Brown nodded, and tried to calm the raging emotions in his pubescent body. He began to feel slightly drowsy and instinctively glanced at his right hand, which usually had his watch strapped on, but noticed with dismay that everything had been stripped off him before he came to the recruitment office. The sergeant noticed the gesture, and glanced at the time in his blue heads-up-display.
"4.06 pm, private. We have two and a quarter hours to go. Feel free to take a rest." He motioned to the rest of the boys, who had fallen into various states of semi and unconsciousness. Two boys were sitting up straight, nodding their heads with sleepiness, and blonde boy with the flushed face had rested his face on the adjacent private's shoulders. The private, who had extremely pale blonde hair, to the point where Brown had thought it white initially, had made room to accommodate the heavy head of the red-bodied private, slumping down slightly in his seat, and allowing the head to rest on his left breast instead of the shoulder, which had the rank implanted on.
Brown slowly eased himself into a lying position, his back on the long leather seat of the APC, but feet still on the ground. He had to twist his body sideways, in order for him to lie totally on his back. He supported Fuchs with a hand, while he corrected himself, and slowly eased Fuchs' head onto his abdomen. Fuchs had not awakened in the least, but rather let out a little grunt, as he snuggled his face onto Brown's soft abdomen, making him chuckle as the dark brown hair tickled his navel. Lewis seemed to be in a state of semi-consciousness, as he sleepily rested his chin on his right hand, and closed his eyes.
Private Brown then fell asleep, exhausted with the new information he had received, and the journey that he had just undertaken.