Boot Camp Blues free porn video

Boot Camp Blues

By

Deputy Duffy

In northern Vermont there's an old school building that was used once asthe State Police Training Facility. Some vandals had trashed the place recently,and Deputy Johns and I were sent up there to play janitor. And I certainlywasn't happy about it. But then, in the debris of some vandalized wooden lockers,I found these papers -- letters from a girl to her sister.

It was kind of strange at first to read them, but it was also kind of titillating,too. It took some work and some research to reconstruct the whole story.

I found out that we had used the old school building for more than just atraining facility. Seems that in the 80s (when I was still in school), theCorrections Department had used it, too. They had "Boot Camps" inthe summer, back before they were all the rage and the celebrities even gotinto the act.

The camps had many detractors and they lasted only a couple of years. Somepeople apparently would rather have convicts rotting in jail cells, than outdoing roadwork or cleaning up parks, which is what the boot campers did. Eachsession lasted two weeks and was segregated by sex, one session for males andone for females. The "campers" were mostly first time offenders andusually in the 18-20 age range. If you finished the two weeks, then your recordwas wiped clean. Or, you could quit at any time and just serve out your sentence.

The first of the letters was written shortly after the girl had arrived incamp.

(I took the liberty to do some reader friendly editing.)

*****

Hi Sis,

I"m writing like you asked. They give us an hour at night to read andwrite. But I don't think they want us writing the truth, like I plan to do.So I found a little hiding place for this, but I'm still nervous. Anyways heregoes. Oh, thanks for dropping me off. At least YOU were there for me. Wendyshowed up a couple of minutes after you left. Can you believe it? She is stillwith that creep, Billy. I mean it was his stupid idea that got us into thismess in the first place. Anyways, Wendy joined me on the bus, and I had tofake a smile, as this wasn't the time to tell her how I really felt.

The bus slowly filled with women, most of whom looked like trouble -- andsmelled like it, too. Then this pretty blonde walked onto the bus. She wasdressed in a sexy red dress and red high heeled shoes. I almost laughed athow out of place she looked, while I also wondered what she did to get senthere.

Looking around, I counted twelve of us. The bus ride was long and quiet,with no talking, of course. I guess we were all thinking about just what wasin store for us. The pretty blonde, meanwhile, used the trip to make sure hermakeup and hair was just perfect.

I tell you sis, I wasn't looking forward to two weeks of people yelling andscreaming at me. And two weeks of wearing those uniforms! I wondered if theblonde knew that for the next two weeks she would be wearing pink shorts anda small white T-shirt, instead of sexy dresses?

Finally the bus pulled up to this old brick building. Our new home. We allwalked up the front way single file, through the front door, down a corridor,and into what must have been the gym at one time (judging by the old basketballnets that were raised up to the ceiling). The sun was shining through somewindows in the roof. It made the gym sweltering in no time.

Once inside, we were met by two guards, a male and a female, and they bothstarted to bark out orders. We each had to find the plastic basket with ourname on it. It was kind of chaotic, especially with all the yelling and screaming.I just knew it!

Finally we were all standing behind our baskets. We were in two rows of six,facing each other, a couple feet apart. I was kind of surprised (what werethe odds) that Wendy was standing next to me, looking petrified. We were onthe end of one line. Two guards were standing by the door we had came in through,and I noticed the back doors were chained shut. I felt trapped. Even thoughnone of them carried guns, I was sure that their flashlights and nightsticksshould be considered weapons, so they still had "power" behind theirbadges.

The two new guards were walking back and forth, snapping at us here and thereabout our stances -- hands by our sides, palms out, shoulders back, chest out,feet well apart. Basically they were doing a bad Louis Gossett Jr. impressionfrom that Richard Gere movie that you're always watching. (Except they werewhite.)

I have to say, though, that they were pretty intimating, if only by theirappearance. He was bald, shaved clean, with a few scars. Also, tall and reallybuilt, which he showed off in a white muscle shirt and tight black pants. Basically,he was mean looking.

She was also tall, had to be a six footer herself. She wore a tight whiteT-shirt tucked into her black pants. It showed that she was in shape. It alsoshowed the outline of her nipples, which made me cringe, 'cause if I couldsee hers, then when we wore ours.... I didn't want to think about it! Her too-shortblack hair was wet or slicked back. When she got in my face, I was surprisedto smell perfume, as I was starting to wonder about her sexual preference.

She stepped back and told us to drop our handbags into our baskets. My heartbegan to race, as I had a bad feeling.

"Ok, you six on this side," she said, as she looked our way. "Removeall of your clothing and put it in the basket."

Gasps and moans quickly followed the order. I couldn't believe my ears, eventhough that's what I thought she might say. I knew we were going to relinquishour personal belongings after arrival -- that was spelled out in the formsthat I had to sign at the courthouse. But never, sis, did I dream it wouldhappen like this. I was looking around, dumbfounded, for a moment, and I guessmost of the other girls were, too.

"I said, 'STRIP'!" She snatched her nightstick off her belt. Thebald guard also pulled out his weapon. It was like a whip that a jockey woulduse. It also reminded me that HE was there.

"In front of him?" One of the girls on the far end moaned out,seemingly for me, or all of us.

"What! you don't think I've seen a pair of tits before?" He snarled,as he raced over in front of her. He punctuated his question with a whack onher thigh from his whip. She cried out, probably more from shock, than pain.I noticed the girl next to me was already down to her panties. She slid themoff too, and I gasped, realizing just HOW naked they wanted us.

"At least we have one camper that knows how to follow orders," thefemale guard said, standing in front of the naked girl. She slid over to me. "Whatthe fuck is your problem, are you deaf?"

"No ma'am," I managed.

"Then why ain't you naked?" Her face was inches from mine. "Youtoo, honey pants," she said, glancing over to Wendy. We shared a rollof the eyes, before I kicked off my shoes and started disrobing. I'd dressedsimply, because I knew I would be taking them off in front of someone. (Ofcourse, not a gym full of people.) First my sweatshirt (I left my bra at home'cause I knew from the forms, they weren't allowed inside, anyways), then myjeans. I had the bad luck of being down to my panties when the bald guard movedover in front of me. He didn't even hide the fact that he watched as I peeledthem down. Maybe he didn't have to. When I placed my panties in the basket,the male guard slid behind me for a better view.

With all my clothes in the basket, I was standing buck naked along with 5other girls. I was using my hands to cover my body, and the others were doingthe same. The guards seemed amused at our timid postures. With a bark, theyordered us to assume the stances that we had learned a couple minutes earlier.I'll tell you, sis, this stance was not meant to be done naked. I've neverfelt so exposed.

I was left looking at the blonde, standing across from me. She wore a lookof dread on her face. She had to know that her line would be next. Before thathappened, though, the guards moved in front of the first girl in my line. Thefemale fished her shoes out of her basket, and examined them, and told herto put them on, saying something about the cold floor, which was strange, becauseit wasn't at all cold.

After she put on her shoes, they read her name off the basket and asked herwhy she was here. The female guard then put a metal dog-tag, like soldierswear, around the girl's neck. Then they ordered her to turn around and puther hands on her knees. The female guard, meanwhile, changed her nightstickfor a flashlight. I was listening to the instructions, but I didn't want towatch anymore, because I knew I was in line for the same humiliating treatment.

The next order, "Spread your cheeks," caused some gasps. Out ofthe corner of my eye, I found out what the flashlight was for, before theymoved on to the next girl. My heart was pounding, as they dealt with the girlnext to me. And then it would be my turn!

"Stay strong!" I kept telling myself, as I didn't want to loseit, before they even got to me. I wasn't really surprised to learn that thegirl next to me was in for prostitution. Maybe that's why she knew the drill-- and didn't seem to mind stripping in front of strangers.

They moved over in front of me. It felt like my face was on fire. She pulledmy shoes out of the basket, and I was thankful that I'd worn simple, open toedshoes that I could just step into. As she looked for my tag, she asked me aboutmy crime. I had no simple way of saying it, so I just told her the truth --about us stealing Davenport High's mascot for our senior week prank.

"No shit!" she gushed, finding my tag. "I read that in thepaper. Didn't the thing die on yah?"

I just nodded my head, still embarrassed about it. "Man, isn't lifea bitch?" she teased, as she applied my tag. It was now my turn to turnaround and face the light. I cursed myself for letting Eddie talk me into shavingdown there now, because I knew when I pulled my cheeks apart.... Well, at leastit sped up the process, but it was still the most humiliating thing I've everhad to do.

It was Wendy's turn next. I know you know how shy Wendy is. She had to bejust dying. She always complained about the size of her breasts. I tried notto look, but I was burning with curiosity, since, as long as we'd been friends,I'd never seen her naked.

Well, she's right, sis. Her breasts are unusually huge, and they hung reallow. They're also capped with really big brown nipples. She even had to gothrough the extra step of holding her breasts up, by just the nipples, so theycould check underneath them. I know I shouldn't have, but I felt a small twingeof delight come over me, when it was her turn to spread'em, because if shehadn't talked me into stealing that damn mascot....

Finally they were finished with our row, and we had to pick up our basketsand pass them through a window, to the other female guard. She was on the otherside, in some sort of storage room. And when I returned to my spot, I felteven more naked now, without my basket.

With the six of us back in our lewd positions, the guards turned their attentionto the other six women. I don't know what they must have felt, watching usgo through our strip-search, but I was about to find out, as it was now ourturn to do the watching. The male guard only seemed interested in the prettyblonde (which didn't really surprise me), as she slid off her sexy red dress.She wore a small red strapless bra and matching panties. She glanced up andgave him a dirty look, which pissed him off.

He slid really close to her. "You eye-balling me?"

"No, sir," she managed, her voice cracking.

"You got a problem with me in here?"

"It just doesn't seem right, sir, that you get to see us stripping naked," shesaid, probably for all of us.

"You questioning my authority?" He barked.

"No, sir."

"Liar! Drop and give me twenty."

"But...I'm in my bra and panties," she complained, before the baldman's whip came smacking down on her ass. From the distinctive sound, I figuredshe must have worn a thong. She let out a yelp, before she assumed the pushupposition, and my assumption was confirmed. He made her count them off. Shestruggled to do ten. (The guard's foot on her back didn't help.)

"Get your ass up, and get your ass naked, and don't ever question me!"

So much for all that time on the makeup. Her mascara was already runningdown her cheeks, as her bra and panties made their way into the basket, leavingus all naked. I felt a twinge of envy, as I have to say that she had the bestbody here (and that includes me). But she still looked self-conscious. So therewere a few girls who had to have been really mortified, to be in the shapethey were in, and to be naked in a group setting like this. (I owe coach Debbiea big hug.)

We watched as each of them went through the same process we'd been through.Only the blonde had shaved herself like me. (So at least I wasn't the onlyone.) When asked, she said she was in for traffic violations. (Huh, she hadto go through all this 'cause she couldn't drive?) After they deposited theirbaskets in storage and got back into line, I was wondering what could possiblybe next.

The male guard suddenly pulled the blonde to the center, and then he toldthis tall redhead to stand behind her. He turned to our line and told me tostand behind the redhead. The prostitute was next, and then another, and thenfinally Wendy. He ordered the rest of the girls to take seats on the woodenbleachers and wait there. It was so totally weird, sis! It was like he hadjust put us in order of how we looked in the nude. It had to be more than acoincidence. (At least he picked me ahead of Wendy.)

The female guard stood in front of the blonde and told us to follow her.The male guard followed Wendy. (She had to just love that!) We were led backout of the gym and into a small locker room. It smelled awful. At the far endof the room was an open doorway. When I left the house this morning, it wasthe part I was dreading the most -- THE SHOWERS.

She had us file in as she turned on the spray. The floor was dirty, so Ikept my shoes on. I noticed the others did too. The water came from a pipeoverhead and not from the wall. There were three heads where water came outof, with a soap-on-a-rope hanging from each one, so we had to share. Get this...Iwas now showering side by side with a real life prostitute. We even had toface the female officer, who was a little bolder than coach Debbie. She wasn'thiding the fact that she was watching our every move, while pacing back andforth just inside the shower area, reminding us that we weren't allowed toturn our backs on an officer. And the water was freezing -- or maybe it wasthat the gym had been so hot.

I don't know if the male was allowed in the shower area or not, but I noticedhe was leaning against the doorway, smoking a cigarette. I guess we were hisbreak-time entertainment, since we were still giving him an eye full. I betWendy wished she'd showered with the rest of the cheerleaders after practicenow, because it was good experience for when we were called out of the showersand had to stand on some rubber mats and drip dry. The female guard only laughedwhen the blonde wisely asked for a towel. The question resulted in more pushupsfor Blondie, only this time without the bra and panties. She had to do twentynaked pushups on the mat. When she got up, her pretty pink nipples were alldirty, poor thing, but the female guard moved over and brushed them clean andthen it seemed like she was just tweaking them until the male guard calledher over, with a cough.

I don't even know why some of the girls were trying to hide their breastsat this point. Maybe it was the cold water. (I know my nipples were certainlystanding erect.) Wendy was cowering in the back. (What a pussy!)

It was slowly coming to me that (even though this was the USA) they weredoing what conquerors have done for centuries: strip their captives of theirclothes and strip them of their pride. Well, I was already naked, but I wasdetermined to keep my pride.

Little did I know that they were just getting started.

It was time to line up again. I was behind the redhead again. I found outher name was Felicia. It fit her. (A pretty name, for a pretty girl.) Theymade us line up so close that her wet hair was dripping onto my breasts andoff my nipples.

Finally it was time to walk again. We went down the hall and into a smallroom that was probably used as a classroom at one time. We had to line up againstthe wall, our right shoulder pressed to it. Looking around, all the chairswere pushed together into a pile in the back. Just a big wooden table stoodin the center.

I suddenly heard a couple of girls, gasp. Looking to my left I saw why. Therewere windows that looked out onto the playing field and there was no curtainsor blinds. It reminded me that I was still naked. Anyone walking by could see...everything.I didn't want to think about it.

The male guard pulled on a cord, and a big white sheet fell over the blackboard.The female guard pulled something from a closet and set it up -- a fuckingcamera, on a tripod. The redhead looked over her shoulder in disbelief. I sharedher feelings.

The blonde went first of course. The male guard, who I'll call Baldie fromnow on, wrote her name and number on a little blackboard, while making a lamejoke that some of us probably couldn't read or write. The blonde held the blackboardunder her chin for the first shot, and then Baldie grabbed it away. Then thefemale took another front shot of her. Then a side shot, a back shot and thenthe other side.

I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!

They were going to be taking nude pictures of all of us, yet no one saida word. Watching the redhead go, I knew I was next. What could I say, sis?I really didn't want to pose for nude photos, but I didn't want to do nudepushups, either.

I was shaking when I shuffled my way up front. Then something happened thatmade me laugh. Baldie handed me the little blackboard, but he spelled my namewrong.

"Now, who can't write?" I said, and the girls all enjoyed a laugh.He got real red-faced and he changed it. After my photos, I was about to getback into line, but Baldie grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me over to thewooden table. Was he was mad! The veins in his forehead seemed to pulsate.He told me to reach over the table and grab the other side. At first I justlooked at him like he was crazy. And then I thought maybe he was, so I gotinto position. It was a reach. My heels even came out of my shoes. Lookingto my left, I saw that the photos had been put on hold. Some of the girls werewatching, some not.

I knew what this position was for, but the first blow from his whip stillstartled me. (This also wasn't in the forms I filled out.) I tried not to makeany noises, but it was hard, 'cause it stung like hell. This wasn't like oneof mom's spankings. Blow after blow they came, until I finally screamed out.Thank god he stopped. I felt his hand resting on my ass. I snapped my headaround. He just sneered, while he rubbed my sore ass cheek. As wrong as I feltabout, it did help with the sting.

"Let that be a lesson to all of you," he growled, as he pulledme off the table and pushed me towards the other girls. They finished up thephotos as I tried to clear my eyes. Then all six of us were back against thewall. I was wondering what could possibly be next.

The female made a phone call, from this red phone on the wall. I couldn'thear her, but I knew she wasn't ordering a pizza. A couple of minute of nervousanticipation, where interrupted by two men in white coats and two women inwhite dresses walking into the room. I was a little puzzled. I was thinkingthat they certainly looked like doctors and nurses. But why were they here?This was a classroom after all. I also remembered the whole naked thing again.

"Ok ladies," the female guard said, getting our attention, beforeshe introduced (I was right) the doctors and nurses -- but I was too nervousto remember their names. I'm like most, I hate doctors. Also my first "biggirl" exam was still fresh in my mind. "They're here to give youan exam, to make sure you're physically fit enough to take the two weeks here,and to document your health and appearance. Then after the two weeks, theywill exam you again to document your condition, just to make sure that no harmhas come to you in our care.... Like that would ever happen."

Now, I figured that's what the photo's were for, and probably why Baldiewaited until after the photo's to give me the spanking. I also figured it waslike my school exam for cheerleading. Only with one big difference -- thistime in the nude.

I really didn't have time to think about it, because a nurse called me overto take my blood pressure. I was surprised to go first, this time. She satme down on this chair that was like built for a third grader. I was not atall surprised that my BP was a little high. She gave me a manila folder (thatI guessed had my records inside) and told me to go over to the next nurse.I noticed that Baldie was talking to the two doctors, next to the table, havinga good ol' time.

The next nurse took my envelope and told me to step on this bathroom scale.I could have told her I was 105 pounds. Then I had to stand against this partof the wall that was marked off. Yep 5'4" tall. She wrote down her amazingfindings and pointed me to the doctors. Even though it was only a couple offeet away, it seemed like the longest walk ever. Nurses were one thing but....

Baldie stepped back, and one of the doctors took my folder. He was a grayhaired, near-sighted, pocket-protector-wearing, stethoscope-around his-neck,living, breathing stereotype. He took my folder and told me to lean againstthe desk. I could see the other girls following behind.

"Ah, blood pressures a little high," he said, before he followedwith, "probably nerves." I tell yah sis, this guy wasn't just a doctor-- he was also a rocket scientist!

"Ok, any tattoos?" He asked, looking up from the folder. I toldhim no, but I don't think it was a question. He told me to drop my arms. (I had been trying shield my nudity.) I took a deep breath and did it. It wasso weird. I mean, I know he's a doctor, but I just met him a minute ago andnow his eyes were roaming over my naked body. The redhead was soon by my sideand the other doctor (who was a fatty) was doing the same. I had to turn around,too. The whole tattoo search was pretty embarrassing.

He tapped me on the shoulder and told me to take a seat. I hopped onto thewooden teacher's table. It was a little strange. But the whole day was fallinginto that category. I was now facing the blonde who seemed in line to followme. Baldie was standing by her side whispering into her ears, and, whateverhe was saying, she didn't like it. The doctor used his stethoscope on me. Itfelt like my heart was racing, but he didn't say anything. He told me to liedown on my back. I did so dumbly. He must have read my face.

"I'm going to test your joints," he said, before he lifted my leftknee up and the right followed in turn. He returned to the left only this timehe raised my whole leg, straight up into the air. A cool rush of air let meknow just how this exposed me. The right leg followed. He told me to flip overand did some more lifting of my legs. It was so embarrassing to do these "tests" naked.

My arms were next. Still face down he had me do these swimming motions. Thenhe told me to flip over. I had to do more arm exercises, This was much worse,'cause I knew what they were doing to my breasts. Finally he had me sit upon the edge of the table. I let out a gasp, when I saw the fat doctor feelingthe redhead's breast next to me. I didn't have much time to think about it,though, as I felt the doctor lifting my arm behind my head. When his hand startedpressing my flesh, I knew that this wasn't going to be like my school examas I'd hoped. He used his fingers and pressed this way and that way, but atleast he stayed away from my nipples.

He had me lie back and fold my hands under my head. I thought the breastexam was over, but his hand came down on my breast again. This time he pressedharder and finished by pulling on my nipple. I winced. He asked me why.

(I wanted to kick him in the balls and then ask him why it hurt!)

He did the same thing to the other breast. He seemed to pull on my nippleextra hard this time, but I couldn't say anything, because Baldie was staringover his shoulder, idly snapping that whip.

The doctor worked his way down my stomach, poking and prodding, but stoppingat my pubic mound. He told me to bring my feet up and put my heels together.I didn't understand, until I saw the redhead. I wanted to jump up and run,right there. But the doctor moved me into position. Heels together, knees spreadapart and pressed down to the table. God, I wouldn't even let a lover put meinto this frigging position.

He was standing by my side with his back towards me, when he cleared histhroat and said he was going to do a manual exam. I didn't know what that meant,but basically he spread my pussy open with his fingers, and then he slid hisfinger inside of me and pressed on my stomach. Baldie moved to my side andgot a good look for himself at the doctor's fingering. When he said he wasdone (I know I made it sound like it was quick and easy, but it was far fromit), I sighed.

That was a little premature.

I had to flip over onto my hands and knees. I found out why when I felt coollotion on my asshole. I noticed a tear drop splash on the table, just as thedoctor slid his finger into me, as hard as I tried not to. (I think I evencried when mom's doctor did it, only her finger wasn't as fat or neither didit plunge as deep.)

I felt something larger than a finger being pushed into me next, and I letout a squeal. The doctor laughed and told me it was only a thermometer. Itwas like a final insult. The redhead and I had to remain in this sexual positionfor four minutes with a thermometer sticking out of our butts and with everyonebehind us watching. It was the longest four minutes of my life.

The doctor used a damp wipe to clean me off and then told me to hop off thetable and stand with my hands by my side and wait quietly. He finished hisstatement by slapping my ass. When he did, it dawned on me that he never saida word about the condition of my ass. I mean it had to still be a little red.

When I got off the table and turned around, I noticed something kind of strangewas going on between the two doctors. Then it hit me -- they were fightingover who was going to get the honor of examining the blonde. I'm not lyingsis. They even threw fingers, and my guy won. The fat guy was pissed, 'causehe had to settle for the prostitute. I laughed inwardly. It was so patheticand unprofessional. And, speaking of unprofessional, the two nurses were sittingon their asses, chatting away with the female guard. The trio weren't evenwatching the doctors.

The blonde took her place on the table, of course Baldie was by her side.I was standing by her head when it was her turn to lay back. Her wet long blondehair tickled my skin, as it brushed by. Since she had watched me, she seemedto know what was coming and the exam moved along swiftly, that was, until thedoctor got to her pussy. Her exam seemed much longer than mine was, so longthat the other doctor already had the thermometer in the prostitute's bum.He joined the other doctor when the blonde turned over on her hands and knees.I knew she was embarrassed with all the attention and I was also embarrassedbecause I was standing by her head. Her face on a couple feet from my p....I wondered if she could, you know, smell my scent, 'cause I know I could.

When it was time for her thermometer, Baldie made a few crude jokes aboutit. I started to wonder if these were even real doctors or not, because I'mnot sure they should have been laughing at them. They also had lust in theireyes.

A slap of the ass sent her jumping off the table and she quickly ducked behindme. I could hear her sniffling behind me when Wendy sat on the table. Eventhough I was mad at her, I still felt for her when it was time for her breastexam, because it seemed to take forever, and of course Baldie had some morecrude jokes.

A sudden ear-piercing shriek shook my bones. It came from the girl, on thetable, next to Wendy. She was pointing towards the window. It took me a coupleof seconds to spot it, but there was a face pressed up against the window.The room filled with chaotic action. The female guard raced over to the phoneagain. The nurses rushed to the windows. Both girls jumped off the table. Allthe girls on my right side seemed to pile in behind me, while I was duckingbehind the table.

Baldie just shook his head. "It's only Homeless Freddie," he said,with a chuckle.

I saw the face disappear from my view, and then I saw him racing away ona old bicycle, a guard chasing behind. For an older man, he was winning thechase. I also figured he must have been standing on the bike's seat to lookin, but what I didn't know was how long he had been there. I shivered, as Iwondered if he saw my exam.

Just when I didn't think it could get any worse...I mean, being seen nudeby medical and prison personnel was one thing, but by an old homeless guy!

It took a couple of minutes for order to be restored. Wendy and the othergirl were ordered to climb on the table, again. Then Wendy caught a huge breakwhen her doctor seemed to forget where he left off and ordered her to her handsand knees. (Probably because that's where the other doctor had left off. But,because this one had spent so much time on her breasts, he was behind, again.)

I wanted to tell him that he missed a step, a very embarrassing step. I alsowould have loved to seen her face when he fingered her pussy, but, even so,the look on her face when he slid his finger up her ass was priceless.

Wendy's luck turned sour, however, when the doctor took her rectal temperature.He seemed to have trouble sliding it in, and keeping it in. It was also prettygross, when he pulled it out. It also hit me, why this was so wrong that weall got to watch each other's exams. I think you can guess what was wrong,sis. The doctor called over a nurse and told her to prepare an enema. Wendycrashed down on the table, sobbing.

And that's where we left her.

While Baldie stayed behind with Wendy, the female led us down the hall intoa small room that she teasingly said was our new home for the next two weeks.It was really nothing more than six cots, two on each side and two on the farwall, each one separated by tall skinny wooden lockers. I was glad that atleast the windows were boarded up. When I found my cote with my name tappedto the foot-rail, I sat down. The room was eerily quiet. The female said somethingabout someone being in shortly with our clothes and she'd collect our shoes.I didn't really believe the "shortly" part. But, honestly at thispoint, what the hell was the difference? I'd--we'd been naked for so long,anyways. The blonde quietly sat down on the cote next to me. When she lookedup, I noticed her face was a mess, and I wondered if mine was too.

One thing I had no question about...I had just gone though the most humiliatingexperience of my life!

And I still had two weeks to go!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was one more piece of paper, but it only described the camp's dailyactivities. And it broke off in mid-sentence.

The papers sat in my desk for days. I was burning for more. I must have readthem four or five times, daily. It was time to do some further research beforeI went loony.

The first thing I wanted to know was the guards' names. Specifically, I wantedto know if I knew any of them personally. Unfortunately, they all turned outto be strangers. And they'd also all retired or moved away.

It was now time to try to find out who wrote this account; I had heard hervoice through her writing, and now I needed to give that voice a face. I alsowanted to know what happened. Why didn't -- or couldn't -- she finish it?

I was a man on a mission. There were some obvious clues in the writing thatyou didn't need to be Perry Mason to see. The first of which was the name ofthe high school whose mascot they stole. I also knew that one of them was namedWendy. So I went to the library. (Didn't the female guard say it was in thenewspaper?) It wasn't that hard to find in the microfilmed newspaper files.(We may not have "The New York Times," but we do have a 153-yearrun of "The Davenport Advocate.") Since all four kids were over 18at the time, I got their names -- including a "Wendy" and (ta-daa!)a "Heather."

Now that I had her name, it was time to find her. I enlisted the help froma person who, well, finds people for a living. (The old-timers called them "skiptracers.") He was quick in his search. He told me that she was in herlate thirties and a single mother of three. He even gave me her current address-- in Connecticut.

I had a Saturday off, so I went for a drive. Hell, maybe I could even dosome gambling at Foxwoods when I was down there. Sitting in front of Heather'ssmall house, I really didn't know what I was going to do. I mean, some maycall me a jerk, or worse, but embarrassing a single mother with three kids....

Eventually, I made up my mind (sort of) and walked up to the front door withwhat I hoped seemed like confidence. (Ok, let the name calling begin.) I wasn'treally sure exactly what I was going to say, but, when she opened the door,my badge and some police blather got me inside. We spoke briefly (about somemissing person I made up on the spot), and then I left, never showing her thepapers. I wondered which of us was more confused at that point. I tried toput the pieces together on my long trip home. Something just didn't compute.

Back in Vermont, it was time to locate Wendy. She was a lot easier to find,since she lived in-state and (as I was surprised to find out) married to acareer politician, who was even now planning to run for governor of our greatstate. I crashed a fundraiser in order to meet her. (I didn't pay.) And I didmeet her briefly. She was attractive, but really overbearing. It turns outshe was an outspoken (some said "rabid") supporter of the "nWo" --the National Women's Organization. (It's funny how those initials can alsostand for "New World Order." Coincidence?)

When I got back to my office I did a little more research on our computer.Things began falling into place.

I came to this conclusion: the papers hadn't been written by Heather, butby Wendy herself.

At first I was thrown off by the simple fact that Heather had a sister andWendy didn't. But there were some telling clues.

Wendy went on to major in journalism in college. Heather majored in gettingknocked up. Wendy wrote for her school's newspaper. Heather made the school'spaper. (It was one of her professors who knocked her up.)

I'd also met both Heather and Wendy, and although they seemed about the sameheight and weight, Heather had by far the bigger boobs of the two. (I tendto notice that.)

Then there was the blackboard incident recounted in the journal. Heatherhas a simple last name, while Wendy's was a tongue twister.

The final clue hit me when I got my hands on a copy of their high schoolyearbook. Early in the story, the writer mentions that she can't believe Wendyis still going with Billy. Well, according to their yearbook, Wendy didn'tgo out with Billy -- Heather did.

The only explanation was that Wendy wrote the journal, hoping to expose theboot camp. She changed the names, in case the journal was found. (Real nicefriend, eh?) She also used the simple fact that Heather had a sister and shedidn't, to disguise the journal as a series of letters.

Armed with this knowledge, I began to wonder about the journal's accuracy.Now when I read it, I wondered how much of it was the writer's embellishment.

It was time for another trip to Connecticut. I called Heather on the phonethis time. She was hesitant to meet me, but I used a little of the old Duffycharm to get her to meet. (Honesty compels me to admit that I had to pay forher babysitter and take her out to a nice restaurant, too.)

I made the long trip and checked into a motel. I knew I'd be drinking, andI hoped she would be, too. (Ok, not for the reason you're thinking.) I wassimply hoping that alcohol would free up her lips. (Ah, that didn't sound anybetter.)

When she showed up at the restaurant I was a little taken back. She was wearinga cleavage-spilling red dress. Scanning upwards from there, I saw her faceand hair were done up perfectly. (This was gonna be harder than I thought.)

After a couple of cocktails, a nice meal, and a bottle of wine, I let herknow why I was really there...sort of.

I showed her an old picture of the bald guard (who had retired to a smallisland off South America) and told her I was doing an investigation on him-- a white lie, more or less. She was more than a little upset, and I had tograb her wrist to stop her from leaving. I guess she thought she was on a date,and, I must say, up to that point things were going well, too. I probably shouldhave used that motel room and forgot all about the journal, but I was consumed.

It took some sweet talk and the offer of another bottle of wine to get herto stay. After a few minutes, I slipped my hand into my pocket and pressedthe record button on my little tape recorder. From my other pocket I pulledout a copy of the journal and handed it to her. She glanced at it and quicklyconfirmed my suspicions by denying she'd written it. Then she read it overa couple of times. She laughed, at first, at the switching of the names.

But, later on, she crumpled up the papers and spat, "that little bitch!" (Andthat's why I brought along a copy this time.) "I even donated to her husband'selection fund."

At first she didn't want to talk, period. She said it was in her past, andit was behind her, but I pressed on and showed her a picture of the guard again,and, honestly, I think the alcohol was working its magic, as well.

"Ok, I'll talk, but only if it helps put this asshole away," shesneered.

"It can't hurt," I said, double-checking my recorder. "Sothis is the first time that you've seen the journal?"

"Yeah."

"And she didn't tell you...."

"No, she didn't," she interrupted. "And it looks like shewas trying to pin it on me."

"Yeah, it looked that way to me, too."

"Yeah, she always blamed me for...you know."

"Stealing that mascot."

"Yeah, it was a harmless prank."

"And then it died," I said, with an uncontrolled laugh. And thenshe flashed me a lethal look. "Anyway, moving on, did the story reallyunfold like that?"

"Like what?"

"I mean, was the journal accurate, except for the names thing?"

"I guess," she said, flipping through the crumpled papers. "Look,do we really need to go over all this?"

"It's important," I assured her. "Now did they really searchyou like that?"

She checked the account again. "Yeah, in the gym, like that...all ofus...it was as embarrassing as she said it was."

"And then the showers?"

"Uh huh."

"And then the physicals?"

"Right..., if that's what you want to call them."

"Did they happen like that?"

She flipped through the pages until she got to what I assumed was the appropriatepart. "Yeah, I almost forgot about that homeless guy. She also seemedto remember what people said, word for word."

"But everything that the journal says happened to Wendy actually happenedto you?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "Seems that way."

"So, you actually got the enema?" I said, without thinking. I hadto grab her wrist again to stop her getaway. It took some apologizing to gether back in her seat, and I quickly switched gears.

"Do you know why the journal stopped so abruptly?"

She shook her head several times, but it looked insincere. So I pressed onand asked her again.

"Look buddy...you come down here, wine and dine me, and then bring upall this shit that I've struggled to forget."

"But you know why?" I asked several times. It was so close I couldtaste it. Although, I felt a little bad for the small tear that rolled downher cheek.

"Alright, I'll tell yah, and then I'm out of here, and don't forgetthe money for the sitter," she said, wiping her face.

I put some cash on the table and she continued. "Ok, I'm pretty sureI know why they stopped," she said, as she crumpled up the papers again. "Therewas a little incident between her and the sexy blonde."

"Incident?"

"Yeah, even though we were good friends back then, she always made mefeel a little uneasy. Lets just say I think she liked showering with the othergirls more than she should have, even though she always had a boyfriend, ifyou know what I mean?"

I nodded. She had nailed my attention at "showering with the other girls."

"Well, I remember that her and the sexy blonde seemed to bond reallyquickly. And their bunks were only a foot or two apart. I think you can seewhere this is going."

I did, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity. "I'm confused," Isaid, scrunching my face, while trying not to chuckle.

"Ok, you're not the smartest cop in the world, are you?"

"I'm no Francis Poncherello," I said, with a fake laugh. (Ponch,was the good looking guy from the TV show, CHiPs.)

"Anyways," she groaned and went back to shuffling the papers.

"We had to wear these old pull-over shirts to bed, but they were sizedfor grade schoolers. It was like everything in the camp was designed to humiliate.Well, one night, I think it was like a week into the camp, I was awakened bythe lights being turned on and the bald guy's screaming. When I cleared myeyes I saw that the blonde and Wendy were in the same cot, and Wendy was scramblingto put her shirt on, but the bald guy yanked it away from her. The female guardwas also there, and when she pulled the blonde off the cot, I saw that herpanties were wrapped around her ankles. Even though I was still groggy, I couldput two and two together."

She looked up with a wise look. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh yah, I think the guards slept at the school, too, 'cause they werealways there. Anyways, I was surprised to see the bald guard move one of theircots to the center of the room, because I thought they were bolted down. Iwas also surprised to see the blonde take off her night shirt and Wendy slideoff her panties, leaving them both buck naked. I thought they were followingorders for a naked whipping, but they had other plans."

This time when she looked up at me, and I shrugged my shoulders, I meantit. "Who's 'they'?" I asked.

"The guards...they wanted them to...ah, perform."

"Perform?" I said, a little more excitedly then I wanted.

"Yeah, it had to be Baldies' idea. At first, they refused, but thenthey were told to pack their bags. That's the way it was at camp, either youtook their punishment, or you got naked when they told you too, or you left.Honestly, I don't know what I would have done at that point. The female guardeven made the rest of us gather around their cot." She dropped her face intoa hand. "It was tough to watch."

"What did they do?"

She flipped her head up. "Fucking pig," she sneered, with a steelygaze.

(Funny, if I had a nickel for every time someone called me that.)

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I meant didthey actually do it...ah, do each other?"

She just nodded her head, while she looked at me with disgust. "Whatdo you wanna hear...all the perverted details? How they sucked on each othersbreasts and then got into a side-by-side sixty nine and ate each other out...allwhile we watched. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

(A silly little song about a dog named "BINGO" suddenly filled my head.)

"Well, after, Wendy left with the two guards, and Blondie moved hercot back. When I woke up the next morning, there was another girl sleepingin Wendy's cot. They separated the two of them, and that's why it stopped.

"And she couldn't get back to retrieve the journal?"

"No, apparently not," she said, rather tartly. "The othergroup was on the other side of the school. We never even saw them, or workedwith them. So for the next week, I never saw Wendy at all. And it took yearsto renew our friendship."

"And you knew nothing of the journal?"

"I said I didn't!" she snapped. But after a four or five secondsshe added, "Look, I knew she was writing something, and late one nightI thought I even saw her hide something behind my locker, but I never knewwhat it was until you showed up here tonight with these pages, 'cause I neverlooked."

"Did anything ever happen to you?"

"Nothing like that. I kept my nose clean, and I didn't play Baldie'sgames."

"Games?"

"Yeah, you know, it was in the summer, it was hot, and it was hard work.So he let us know that if we wanted a day off, come see him in his air conditionedoffice. He wasn't too subtle. And I never did, so don't ask."

"And did Wendy?"

"Well, one day it was real hot, and I noticed Blondie wasn't around.It was actually the day of the big scene. I remember teasing Wendy about hernot being there, and I remember how mad she got. At the time I thought it was'cause she hated Baldie so much. Although Baldie seemed to have a thing forher."

"Do you think it was a set up?"

"Well, welcome to the party Barney Fife." (That was a good one.)

She sighed, "Yeah, to this day I think Blondie set her up. I mean, afterthat night Blondie never went out on work detail again, and Baldie finallygot Wendy into his office."

"Are you sure?"

She just nodded her head, then paused and frowned. "Oh my god! Thisisn't about Baldie at all...or even me. No, this is about Wendy."

"What?" I blinked, a little confused.

"Yeah, you know the truth about her son and what it might do...."

"Unh," I shrugged. (This was the first I'd heard about a son.)

"To the election.... I get it, someone paid you to dig up some dirt...ormaybe you're planning to do some blackmailing. Yeah, you know she'd do justabout anything to make sure no one ever found out about this shit."

Heather stood up, ripped the papers into pieces (another reason for the copies),tossed them into my face, and stormed off. (She grabbed the sitter money.)

I brooded for a couple of minutes, but was then interrupted by the prettylittle waitress bringing the check over. I made some small talk with her beforementioning that I was staying at a local motel, with a wink. Smooth, eh? Sheanswered by tossing a glass of water in my face. It was pretty daring, 'causeit could've gotten her fired. But it was a small glass, and all the ice hadmelted, and it was kind of refreshing....

But I left her a nickel tip.

Back at my motel room, I made a phone call. It seems like Heather had beenright about Wendy having a son. I overlooked him because he was now an 18-year-oldcollege freshman, who had been raised by his grandmother, and who still usedhis mother's maiden name. I had his date of birth, and the math was easy. Hewas born in May the year after Wendy went to boot camp. Yep, about nine monthslater. I also figured Heather was probably right about Wendy being willingto do anything to keep this from getting out, especially now.

On the drive back to Vermont, my mind was a-buzz with possibilities. I haddefinitely fell into more than I ever expected. But I'm not really a blackmailer,and her husband was friendly enough with my father (the sheriff ) to know heshould stay out of our business. So he had my vote.

But after all I went through to dig up the information, it was really toughto do nothing with it..., and now Wendy seemed like such an obnoxious bitch.I also read that her husband was favored to win the election.

So I think I'll sit on the journal and my Heather tape a little while longer.

I mean -- I've never strip-searched (just for a fun start) a governor's wifebefore.

The End

Thanks for taking the time to read my story

Please send me your comments.

[email protected]