Majorette
- 2 years ago
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Nothing Major free porn video
This is my first posted story and all feedback is welcome. Though rated G, it
deals with situations outside the normal rubric of our society, and I ask all
who are under 21 years of age to move on. This story is dedicated to my
master, X, for bringing further out my girly side. This tale should be
considered as copyrighted 1999. I can be reached at [email protected]
--------------------------------------
Nothing Major
by Bridgette
The major frowned, staring at his watch. General Halftrack was turning
what should have been a minor policy change into a huge deal. "As I was
saying," pontificated the good general, "seeing that all of America's enemies
have been defeated and now pester us only for money, none of these 'special
weapons' projects shall be funded by the army. We can't cut certain projects
due to political pressure, but your is certainly available. So, your pet, project
GC-161, will be the first to go, so I suggest that you prepare to dispose of
those samples you had created."
"But general, you've slashed our budget?how are we to?"
"Now, now, Major. You'll find a way, I am sure?you always do. You
only have some fifty gallons of the stuff, I know. Besides," and here the
general shared a knowing look, "if the project was secret, who'll complain if
we don't obey every little rule in the book?"
Well, few people get too far in the army by virtue of obeying every rule that
society sees fit, and Major Fullbright was not one of those few. He did
know, however, that even fewer get ahead by butting heads with their
commanders, especially those like the General?so, with a scowl on his face,
the good Major placed a phone call. "Clancy?"
Clancy smiled, staring at his watch. "Uh-huh?disposal?GC-161?got it
chief." Clancy hung up the phone, miles away from where his commanding
officer was grimacing at being called "chief." The would-be corporal was
more interested in the double-overtime he'd get for dangerous after-hours
work, free of all the regulations this man's army loved to drown its subjects
in. You see, Clancy was one of those men who cause others to wonder just
who they bribed, (or who they knew) to get where they are today. He and
his buddy Vern, a man of like temperament handled most of their menial
tasks in a good-natured manner, cheerfully oblivious to the environment
around them. It may be that they really believed, as did all the local residents,
that their workplace was a simple cookie factory, nestled in the heart of a
nondescript suburb.
So Troy fished for his keys, first in the left pocket of his chinos, then the
right, to save himself the indignity of being a "sleeper sweeper," preferring to
end the night now than convince himself that the evening's leftovers were
anything but undesirable. Accordingly, our hero marched outside to the edge
of the parking lot, by now empty save for the cars of the hardest-luck cases
inside.
Troy sighed, staring at his watch. It was one-thirty, half and hour until
closing time, and no "meat" was forthcoming. Having been told around the
water cooler that the "Spiral Staircase" was the new place to meet babes, Troy
had spent three night in a row here, watching what few babes who dared
enter this pool of testosterone swept away by neckless grunts who likely
couldn't spell "gym," though they lived half their life there. On top of that,
he had spilled some microbrew on his new Armani tie, and that would be a
pain to clean out. At 27, Troy still considered himself young and eligible, but
as every day passed, he seemed to be getting less eligible.
Clancy and Vern were hard-luck cases themselves in all aspects of life, but
shielded themselves from most of the world by a screen of stupidity. Thus,
while they hauled out the tubs marked "dangerous" and "caution," out of the
squat metal building proclaiming itself as the home of "Uncle Sam's
Cookies," the conversation was not centered on precautions in transporting
hazardous waste, but rather the Jets Game next Sunday. "No, no, no,
Vern?Parcells has taken them as far as they're gonna go, I'm telling
ya?damn but this stuff is heavy." Clancy and Vern continued to chat as they
did their dirty work?and by the end of the evening the debate over the Jets'
secondary almost came to blows. Though their disagreement didn't come to
open fighting, it did keep them from noticing a slight spill from one of the
drums?.
That ran down a hill?.
Under the fence?
And collecting in a puddle?such as what one would see under a leaky car on
a hot day, in a parking lot.
"Crap."
"Crap," he said again, kicking his 1983 Chevy Impala. "Damn thing's
leaking again. Can't even tell what it is?not motor oil?" Remembering
what he saw on a car show broadcast one Sunday afternoon, Troy bent
down, and wiped his finger in the liquid. First he smelled, then hesitantly
tasted the liquid. "Shit, I don't even know what I'm looking for?but
nothing from my car could taste that good."
The phone by Major Fullbright's bed rang. The clock said 1:20 am. The
general obviously didn't care. "Major, did you ensure that all that GC-161
was destroyed?"
"Yes general." Stifling a yawn, the major entertained himself with fantasies
of another Tailhook scandal, this time in the army, bringing down all the
higher officers.
"You didn't let those clowns Clancy and Vern do it, did you? I mean, my
cousin's a great guy, but he shouldn't really be handling waste materials you
know."
"Umm, no. Of course not." He'd gladly have testified against the General.
"You realize the disaster we could be risking were it to get out to the public."
"General, the victim has to consume the liquid ?" Squealed like a pig.
"I know, you fool! I approved the project! But YOU should know that if
anybody ever did consume it, and the media found out about this accident,
my ass would be in a shredder, and damned if yours wouldn't be next!"
"Yes, general."
"Damn car! First it's leaking, and now it won't start." Troy's night was
pretty bad, and not getting better. Looking in an empty wallet, Troy saw his
expired AAA membership...no help there? Troy swung his legs out the
door of the Impala, and landed squarely on his knees. "I am pitiful?three
beers and I'm already nauseous...and seeing things!" Shadowed from the
streetlight, in an otherwise empty parking lot, Troy's skin was beginning to
glow. It was unnoticeable to anyone but a rather alarmed Troy, but it was
indeed bestowing a slight aura of light green upon the night.
3:30 am. "Major Fullbright"
"Major, you got me right worried. Here is what I want you to do. Go down
to the lab, and make sure those containers were disposed of properly."
The dead car no longer held Troy's interest, as his skin seemed very much
alive?and the same fluid that Troy had consumed now covered his skin?a
slight viscosity, a slight sheen on the surface. Troy swore he'd never try one
of Uncle Sam's cookies, if this goo was what came out of their factory. The
gloss wasn't particularly notable, but Troy soon found it too slippery to really
have any hope of remaining upright, and so contented himself with laying on
the pavement, horrified at his glistening skin. When the lights of the parking
lot where shut down, he barely noticed. The dead car was hardly worth his
attention.
"General, are you sure that?"
"Yes, son, I am sure. Now go" The general hang up.
Just my damn luck ? I work for a guy who doesn't sleep.
The nausea increased, as did the glow. By now, he couldn't really make out
his own skin, blinded by whatever phosphorous substance had taken its
place. Closing his eyes to the glow, warped of energy, with a belly full of
beer and a bloodstream full of biotoxins, Troy slipped off to sleep.
Scant hours later, a passing police car woke Troy out of his troubled
slumber. At first annoyed at the piercing siren, Troy's disgust gave way to
delight. His nausea had all but passed, and lo, his skin had started to lighten.
And, oh happiness, he found himself able to gain a little purchase on the
ground around him, more or less?the oily slick that was on the outer layer
of his skin had subsided, but still seemed soft to the touch, and smoother
than he remembered. Nonetheless, Troy felt ready to bring himself to a
sitting position. He pulled himself up by the door handle?
"What the hell?" Something, two somethings, were sitting on his chest.
Troy grasped his hands to his chest. And screamed.
"Vern!" Vern's chair tipped dangerously low to the floor. "Wha'?
Shaddup, Clancy, I'm trying to sleep."
"No I heard something?like an angry guy...or girl?or something."
"Uh-huh. Bet it was just an alley cat...you could use some sleep too,
Clancy."
"I'm going out to see what it is?you coming?" Clancy stood up, grabbed a
flashlight, looked at the gun. It would come in handy, if only he'd ever
bothered to learn how to use it?
"Good night, Clancy."
Actually, it was more of a scream than a shout. And a short one at that, as
Troy cut short his anguish, shocked at the high pitched caterwaul now
coming from his enlarged chest. Groping in the faint glow of distant lights,
Troy pulled himself up against the car to do a more thorough survey. His
skin was no longer green, but no longer hairy. After a surprising titillation
after his hand ran over his breasts, Troy continued south, only to
find?nothing. Well, something a lot smaller than the former occupant of the
space between his legs. But not unfamiliar. Though Troy gave a shudder of
pleasure, his feeling was one of dismay. From the vague shape in the mirror,
he seemed to have the same general dimensions?only things were changed
now. His nose was shorter, cheeks seemed higher. Troy had apparently
picked up a pretty hot babe after all. And that warm feeling from between his
legs?worth another try?his hand snuck down his pants?
"Are you all right lady?" Troy froze at the sight of a sweaty, somewhat
rotund man jouncing down the hillside toward the fence. "I said are you all
right?"
A flash of red hair as she whipped around. "Yes, sir. My car is just broken
down here?do you have a phone with you?"
"Sure, up here in the secret mili?I mean, cookie factory. The only entrance
is around the fence, unless you sneak under this hole." Clancy held up a bent
section of the chain link, about two feet off the ground. Military violations
didn't extend to hot babes like this, he knew.
"Oh, all right." Troy dropped to his hands and knees, much to Clancy's
amusement. She crawled through, unaware of the show Clancy was
currently enjoying, and stood up, brushing her clothes off. "Now where is
that phone?"
"Right this way, ma'am."
"On your feet soldier!" If the major was going to have to be awake for this
godawful task, then all be damned if he was going to be the only one.
"Wha, yes, yes sir."
"Corporal, what's your name soldier?"
"Vern, sir"
"I mean your last name"
"Umm?Gaffney."
"Corporal Gaffney, did you dispose of those biotoxins as I ordered?"
"What biotoxins?"
"The drums?the metal drums, damn it!"
"Oh, the spoiled milk?sure, no problem sir?right over there."
"So help me God, if your friend's cousin wasn't the General, I'd?" Words
ceased as the door opened and Troy walked in.
"I'd, um, I'd be pleased to help you in any way I can, young lady"
Swallowed the major.
"Oh, I just need to use the phone, thank you." Troy walked over to the
phone, picked up the headpiece, and placed it against his head?and dropped
to the floor, shuddering.
"Mr. Forrest. Mr. Forrest? Are you awake?" Hazy ghosts interrupted
Troy's dreams of lazy nights by an unidentified river with an unidentified
woman. A sharp poke, and Troy's eyes shot open. Barely a foot away,
Troy saw the visage of some twisted cross between Sgt. Schulz from
Hogan's Heroes and Santa Claus?the face of General Halftrack.
Troy moved to push himself upright, but he didn't really move. His arms
stayed?somewhere above his head and his legs remained spread out.
Experimenting a little, soft but unyielding bonds told him he'd be in this
position for awhile. Lifting his head slightly, Troy could see he'd been
loosely covered in a sheet, his clothes removed. "What is going on here?"
General Halftrack pursed his lips. "Well, I must first apologize on my own
behalf..."
"What happened?"
"?and that of Major Fullbright and Colonels Gaffney and Horowitz?"
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"
"?and of course, the army and government of the United States of
America." Happy to have fulfilled the formula, Halftrack paused, and began
anew. "You see?umm?my friend, you've sadly come across one of the
legacies of the Cold War. A great deal of money was spent developing exotic
weaponry in case a war ever happened, and you've, uh seen your tax dollars
in action." A slight laugh. "This particular compound, GC-161, was
inspired by an Israeli Mossad trick. They killed a PLO terrorist by activating
a bomb planted in his phone at the push of a button. Well, we thought,
wouldn't it be great if we could do that to a whole nation? Poison their
system so the right tone played over their airwaves would kill them all off?"
"We were well into the development of this compound when the world
changed. The end of the Cold War hurt our funding. And these side effects
? radical changes to the body, up to and including the elimination of all male
physical characteristics is rare cases ? effectively killed it?some nonsense
about the Genevieve convention?"
One of the soldiers framing the door started "the Geneva Convention, sir."
"Whatever?so we decided to bury this little project in the backyard, as it
were, then you came along. Your ID, and genetic tests labeled you as a male,
so we can be fairly certain you ingested some leaked GC-161?"
"Are you going to kill me, sir?" Troy whispered.
"Kill you? After what we did to you? Oh no, sweetheart, you deserve better
than that. In fact, the government has taken care of all your
problems?you'll have no want for money or comfort."
Troy smiled?he had indeed hit the jackpot. "So when can you let me go?"
"Oh, not for awhile. See, it would just hurt so many people were they to find
out about what happened, important people. So we're going to have to see to
it that you didn't go about blabbing your story. And while we're at it, we've
prepared a little program to help you adjust to your new life. Gentlemen?"
The gentlemen ? so named because they wore uniforms and were no ordinary
thugs, wheeled forward a large screen, and set up two speakers on either side
of Troy's head. One pierced Troy's hand, inserting an i. v. That fluid
should keep you conscious and nourished for the next week?as well as do
some other things. Good luck, missy, we'll be back in a few days."
The general strode out the door, ignoring the screams behind him.
That week was a lost memory in Trina's head. Not that there was that much
in there, she mused. Vague recollections of a half-conscious state, a
booming voice, and repeated images of make-up and teddy bears and all
those other things?but for the life of her, she couldn't quite place it.
"Trina? Take a dictation?" Trina snapped out of her reverie and stood up.
The four-inch black heels never gave her a problem since she had came out of
that?dream. Her tight black skirt revealed quite a bit of leg (and I know they
like it), and Trina's white blouse opened quite a bit, due to a mysteriously
lost button that kept her from keeping it decently closed. Each of her blouses
seemed to be missing that button. Snapping a bubble, Trina minced over to
the Major's desk. "Of course, major. I promise I won't mess it up this
time."
"It's quite all right, Trina, your many skills make you invaluable around
here?I'll never know why I was assigned to an all-male military outpost."
Red lipstick today?hmm? "?Anyway, this letter is addressed to General
Halftrack. 'General, my sincere thanks in bringing to me the result of your
latest project,"
Trina scribbled the letter on the pad, taking little notice of what the major was
actually saying. More disturbing was a run she had noticed on her
pantyhose, running down the back of the leg. This was her last pair, and no
more were likely to be found on this isolated outpost. If only she could
arrange some deal ?
"Trina, dear, why are you frowning so?"
(the end)
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