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Archive name: bootcamp.txt (F+/M, exh, voy, prison, 
strip-search, nc)
Authors name: Deputy Duffy (stonedog99_1999@yahoo.com)
Story title : Boot Camp Blues

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Boot Camp Blues
by Deputy Duffy (stonedog99_1999@yahoo.com)

***

A deputy finds some letters. They're from a "Boot 
Camper" to her sister. And the deputy tries to track 
them down. (F+/M, exh, voy, prison, strip-search, nc)

***

In northern Vermont there's an old school building that 
we had used once as the 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 
certainly wasn'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 a training facility. Seems that in 
the 80s (when I was still in school), the Corrections 
Department had used it, too. They had "Boot Camps" in 
the summer, back before they were all the rage and the 
celebrities even got into the act.

It had its detractors and they lasted only a couple of 
years. Some people apparently would rather have 
convicts rotting in cells, than out doing roadwork or 
cleaning up parks, which is what the boot campers did. 
Each session lasted two weeks and was segregated by 
sex, one session for males and one for females. 

The "campers" were mostly first time offenders and 
usually in the 18-20 age range. If you finished the two 
weeks, then your record was 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 in camp. (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 and write. 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 here goes. Oh, thanks for dropping me off. At 
least YOU were there for me. 

Wendy showed up a couple of minutes after you left. Can 
you believe it? She is still with that creep, Billy. I 
mean it was his stupid idea that got us into this mess 
in the first place. Anyways, Wendy joined me on the 
bus, and I had to fake 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 -- and smelled like it, too. Then this 
pretty blonde walked onto the bus. She was dressed in a 
sexy red dress and red high-heeled shoes. I almost 
laughed at how out of place she looked, while I also 
wondered what she did to get sent here.

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 was in store for 
us. The pretty blonde, meanwhile, used the trip to make 
sure her makeup and hair was just perfect. 

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

Finally the bus pulled up to the brick building. Our 
new home. We all walked 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 
basketball nets that were raised up to the ceiling). 
The sun was shining through some windows 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 both started to bark out orders. We 
each had to find the plastic basket with our name 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 were the 
odds) that Wendy was standing next to me, looking 
petrified. We were on the 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 though none of them carried guns, I was 
sure that their flashlights and nightsticks should be 
considered weapons, so they still had "power" behind 
their badges.

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

I have to say, though, that they were pretty 
intimating, if only by their appearance. He was bald, 
shaved clean, with a few scars. Also, tall and really 
built, 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 white T-shirt tucked into her black pants. 
It showed that she was in shape. It also showed the 
outline of her nipples, which made me cringe, 'cause if 
I could see hers, then when we wore ours.... I didn't 
want to think about it! Her too-short black hair was 
wet or slicked back. When she got in my face, I was 
surprised to 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 heart began to race, as I had a bad 
feeling.

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

Gasps and moans quickly followed the order. I couldn't 
believe my ears, even though that's what I thought she 
might say. I knew we were going to relinquish our 
personal belongings after arrival -- that was in the 
forms that I had to sign at the courthouse. But never, 
sis, did I dream it would happen like this. I was 
looking around, dumbfounded, for a moment, and I guess 
most of the other girls were, too.

"I said, 'STRIP'!" She snatched her nightstick off her 
belt. The bald guard also pulled out his weapon. It was 
like a whip that a jockey would use. 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 hissed, as he raced over in front of her. 
He punctuated his question with a whack on her 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 them off too, and I 
gasped as I realized just how naked they wanted us.

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

"No ma'am," I managed.

"Then why ain't you naked?" Her face was inches from 
mine. "You too, honey pants," she said, glancing over 
to Wendy. We shared a roll of the eyes, before I kicked 
off my shoes and started disrobing. I'd dressed simply, 
because I knew I would be taking them off in front of 
someone. (Of course 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 
my jeans. I had the bad luck of being down to my 
panties when the bald guard moved over in front of me. 
He didn't even hide the fact that he watched as I 
peeled them down. Maybe he didn't have to.

With all my clothes in the basket, I was standing buck 
naked along with 5 other girls. I was using my hands to 
cover my body, and the others were doing the same. The 
guards seemed amused at our timid postures. With a 
bark, they ordered 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 never 
felt so exposed.

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

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

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

"Stay strong!" I kept telling myself, as I didn't want 
to lose it, before they even got to me. I wasn't really 
surprised to learn that the girl 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 pulled my shoes out of the basket, and 
I was thankful that I'd worn simple, open toed shoes 
that I could just step into. As she looked for my tag, 
she asked me about my 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 
the paper. Didn't the thing die on yah?" 

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

It was Wendy's turn next. I know you know how shy Wendy 
is. She had to be just dying. She always complained 
about the size of her breasts. I tried not to 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 huge, and 
they're capped with big brown nipples. She even had to 
go through the extra step of holding her breasts up, by 
just the nipples, so they could check underneath them. 
I know I shouldn't have, but I felt a small twinge of 
delight come over me, when it was her turn to 
spread'em, because if she hadn't talked me into 
stealing that damn mascot....

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

With the six of us back in our lewd positions, the 
guards turned their attention to the other six women. I 
don't know what they must have felt, watching us go 
through our strip-search, but I was about to find out, 
as it was now our turn to do the watching. The male 
guard only seemed interested in the pretty blonde 
(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 and gave him a dirty 
look, which pissed him off. 

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

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

"You got a problem with me in here?"

"It just doesn't seem right, sir," she said, probably 
for all of us.

"You questioning me?"

"No, sir."

"Liar! Drop and give me twenty."

"But...I'm in my bra and panties," she complained, 
before the bald man's whip came smacking down on her 
ass. From the distinctive sound, I figured she must 
have worn a thong. She let out a yelp, before she 
assumed the push up position, and my assumption was 
confirmed. He made her count them off. She struggled 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 running down her cheeks, as her bra and 
panties made their way into the basket, leaving us all 
naked. I felt a twinge of envy, as I have to say that 
she had by far the best body here (and that includes 
me). But she still looked self-conscious. So there were 
a few girls who had to have been really mortified, to 
be in the shape they were in, and to be naked in a 
group setting like this. I owe coach Debbie a 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 only one.) 
When asked, she said she was in for traffic violations. 
(Huh, she had to go through all this 'cause she 
couldn't drive?) After they deposited their baskets in 
storage and got back into line, I was wondering what 
could possibly be next.

The male guard pulled the blonde to the center, and 
then he told a tall redhead to stand behind her. He 
turned to our line and told me to stand behind the 
redhead. The prostitute was next, and then another, and 
then finally Wendy. He ordered the rest of the girls to 
take seats on the wooden bleachers and wait there. It 
was so totally weird, sis! It was like he had just put 
us in order of how we looked in the nude. It had to be 
more than a coincidence. (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 back out of the gym 
and into a small locker room. It smelled awful. At the 
far end of the room was an open doorway. When I left 
the house this morning, it was the part I was dreading 
the most -- the showers.

She had us file in as she turned on the spray. The 
floor was dirty, so I kept my shoes on. I noticed the 
others did too. The water came from a pipe overhead and 
not from the wall. There were three heads where water 
came out of, with a soap-on-a-rope hanging from each 
one, so we had to share. 

Get this...I was now showering side by side with a real 
life prostitute. We even had to face the female 
officer, who was a little bolder than coach Debbie. She 
wasn't hiding the fact that she was watching our every 
move, while pacing back and forth just inside the 
shower area, reminding us that we weren't allowed to 
turn our backs on an officer. And the water was 
freezing -- or maybe it was that the gym had been so 
hot.

I don't know if the male was allowed in the shower area 
or not, but I noticed he was leaning against the 
doorway, smoking a cigarette. I guess we were his 
break-time entertainment, since we were still giving 
him an eye full. I bet Wendy wished she'd showered with 
the rest of the cheerleaders after practice now, 
because it was good experience for when we were called 
out of the showers and had to stand on some rubber mats 
and drip dry. 

The female guard only laughed when the blonde wisely 
asked for a towel. The question resulted in more 
pushups for Blondie, only this time without the bra and 
panties. She had to do twenty naked pushups on the mat. 
When she got up, her pretty pink nipples were all 
dirty, poor thing.

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

It was slowly coming to me that (even though this was 
the USA) they were doing what conquerors have done for 
centuries: strip their captives of their clothes and 
strip them of their pride. Well, I was already naked, 
but I was determined 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 out her name was Felicia. It fit her. (A 
pretty name, for a pretty girl.) They made us line up 
so close that her wet hair was dripping onto my breasts 
and off my nipples.

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

I suddenly heard a couple of girls, gasp. Looking to my 
left I saw why. There were windows that looked out onto 
the playing field and there was no curtains or 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 fucking 
camera, on a tripod. The redhead looked over her 
shoulder in disbelief. I shared her feelings. 

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

I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT! 

They were going to be taking nude pictures of all of 
us, yet no one said a 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 
nude pushups, either. 

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

"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 get back into line, 
but Baldie grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me over 
to the wooden 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 just looked at him like he was crazy. 
And then I thought maybe he was, so I got into 
position. It was a reach. My heels even came out of my 
shoes. Looking to my left, I saw that the photos had 
been put on hold. Some of the girls were watching, some 
not.

I knew what this position was for, but the first blow 
from his whip still startled me. (This also wasn't in 
the forms I filled out.) I tried not to make any 
noises, but it was hard, 'cause it stung like hell. 
This wasn't like one of 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 head around. He just sneered, while he 
rubbed my sore ass cheek. As wrong as I felt about, it 
did help with the sting.

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

The female made a phone call, from this red phone on 
the wall. I couldn't hear her, but I knew she wasn't 
ordering a pizza. A couple of minute of nervous 
anticipation, where interrupted by two men in white 
coats and two women in white dresses walking into the 
room. I was a little puzzled. I was thinking that they 
certainly looked like two 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. She introduced the doctors and nurses -- but 
I was too nervous to remember their names. I'm like 
most, I hate doctors. Also my first "big girl" exam was 
still fresh in my mind. "They're here to give you an 
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, they will exam 
you again to document your condition, just to make sure 
that no harm has come to you in our care.... Like that 
would ever happen."

Now, I figured that's what the photos were for, and 
probably why Baldie waited until after the photo's to 
give me the spanking. I also figured it was like my 
school exam for cheerleading. Only this time in the 
nude. 

I really didn't have time to think about it, because a 
nurse called me over to take my blood pressure. I was 
surprised to go first, this time. She sat me down on 
this chair that was like built for a third grader. I 
was not at all surprised that my BP was a little high. 
She gave me a manila folder (that I 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, having a 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 115 
pounds. Then I had to stand against this part of the 
wall that was marked off. Yep 5'4" tall. She wrote down 
her amazing findings and pointed me to the doctors. 
Even though it was only a couple of feet 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 gray haired, near-sighted, pocket-
protector-wearing, stethoscope-around his-neck, living, 
breathing stereotype. He took my folder and told me to 
lean against the desk. I could see the other girls 
following behind. 

"Ah, blood pressures a little high," he said, before he 
followed with, "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 told him 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 was so weird. I mean, I know he's a doctor, but 
I just met him a minute ago and now his eyes were 
roaming over my naked body. The redhead was soon by my 
side and 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 the wooden teacher's table. It was 
a little strange. But the whole day was falling into 
that category. I was now facing the blonde who seemed 
in line to follow me. Baldie was standing by her side 
whispering into her ears, and, whatever he was saying, 
she didn't like it. The doctor used his stethoscope on 
me. It felt like my heart was racing, but he didn't say 
anything. He told me to lie down 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 left knee up and the right followed in turn. 
He returned to the left only this time he raised my 
whole leg, straight up into the air. A cool rush of air 
let me know just how this exposed me. The right leg 
followed. He told me to flip over and 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. Then he 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 up on the edge of the table. I let out a gasp, 
when I saw the fat doctor feeling the 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 started pressing my flesh, I knew 
that this wasn't going to be like my school exam as I'd 
hoped. He used his fingers and pressed this way and 
that way, but at least he stayed away from my nipples.

He had me lie back and fold my hands under my head. I 
thought the breast exam was over, but his hand came 
down on my breast again. This time he pressed harder 
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 nipple extra hard this time, but I couldn't 
say anything, because Baldie was staring over his 
shoulder, idly snapping that whip.

The doctor worked his way down my stomach, poking and 
prodding, but stopping at 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 spread apart and 
pressed down to the table. God, I wouldn't even let a 
lover put me into this position.

He was standing by my side with his back towards me, 
when he cleared his throat 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 his finger inside of me and pressed on my 
stomach. Baldie moved to my side and got a good look 
for himself at the doctor's fingering. When he said he 
was done (I know I made it sound like it was quick and 
easy, but it was far from it), I sighed. 

That was a little premature. 

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

I felt something larger than a finger being pushed into 
me next, and I let out a squeal. The doctor laughed and 
told me it was only a thermometer. It was like a final 
insult. The redhead and I had to remain in this sexual 
position for four minutes with a thermometer sticking 
out of our butts and with everyone behind 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 the table and stand with my hands by 
my side and wait quietly. He finished his statement by 
slapping my ass. When he did, it dawned on me that he 
never said a 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 strange was going on between the two 
doctors. Then it hit me -- they were fighting over who 
was going to get the honor of examining the blonde. I'm 
not lying sis. They even threw fingers, and my guy won. 
The fat guy was pissed, 'cause he had to settle for the 
prostitute. I laughed inwardly. It was so pathetic and 
unprofessional. And, speaking of unprofessional, the 
two nurses were sitting on their asses, chatting away 
with the female guard. The trio wasn't even watching 
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 blonde hair 
tickled my skin, as it brushed by. Since she had 
watched me, she seemed to know what was coming and the 
exam moved along swiftly, that was, until the doctor 
got to her pussy. 

Her exam seemed much longer than mine was, so long that 
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 
embarrassed because 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 about it. I started to wonder if these were 
even real doctors or not, because I'm not sure they 
should have been laughing at them. They also had lust 
in their eyes. 

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

A sudden ear-piercing shriek shook my bones. It came 
from the girl, on the table, next to Wendy. She was 
pointing towards the window. It took me a couple of 
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 phone again. 
The nurses rushed to the windows. Both girls jumped off 
the table. All the girls on my right side seemed to 
pile in behind me, while I was ducking behind 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 on a bicycle, a guard chasing behind. 
For an older man he was winning the chase. I also 
figured he must have been standing on the bike's seat 
to look in, but what I didn't know was how long he had 
been there. I shivered, as I wondered if he saw my 
exam. 

Just when I didn't think it could get any worse...I 
mean, being seen nude by 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 other girl were ordered to climb on the 
table, again. Then Wendy caught a huge break when her 
doctor seemed to forget where he left off and ordered 
her to her hands and 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 also would 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 pretty 
gross, when he pulled it out. It also hit me, why this 
was so wrong that we all 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. Wendy crashed 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 into a 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 far wall, each one separated by tall skinny 
wooden lockers. I was glad that at least the windows 
were boarded up. When I found my cote with my name 
tapped to the foot-rail, I sat down. The room was 
eerily quiet. 

The female said something about someone being in 
shortly with our clothes and she'd collect our shoes. I 
didn't really believe the "shortly" part. But, honestly 
at this point, 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 
looked up, 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 humiliating experience of my life! 

And I still had two weeks to go!

xxx

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

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

The first thing I wanted to know was the guards' names. 
Specifically, I wanted to know if I knew any of them 
personally. Unfortunately, they all turned out to 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 her voice through her writing, and 
now I needed to give that voice a face. I also wanted 
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 that you didn't need to be Perry Mason 
to see. The first of which was the name of the high 
school whose mascot they stole. I also knew that one of 
them was named Wendy. So I went to the library. (Didn't 
the female guard say it was in the newspaper?) 

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-year run of "The Davenport 
Advocate.") Since all four kids were over 18 at 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 from a person who, well, finds people 
for a living. (The old-timers called them "skip 
tracers.") He was quick in his search. He told me that 
she was in her late 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 do some gambling at Foxwoods when I 
was down there. Sitting in front of Heather's small 
house, I really didn't know what I was going to do. I 
mean, some may call 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 with what I hoped seemed like 
confidence. (Ok, let the name calling begin.) I wasn't 
really 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 some missing 
person I made up on the spot),and then I left, never 
showing her the papers. I wondered which of us was more 
confused at that point. I tried to put 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 a career 
politician, who was even now planning to run for 
governor of our great state. I crashed a fundraiser in 
order to meet her. (I didn't pay.) And I did meet her 
briefly. She was attractive, but really overbearing. It 
turns out she was an outspoken (some said "rabid") 
supporter of the "nWo" -- the National Women's 
Organization. (It's funny how those initials can also 
stand 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, but by Wendy herself.

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

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

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

Then there was the blackboard incident recounted in the 
journal. Heather has 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 school yearbook. Early in the story, the 
writer mentions that she can't believe Wendy is still 
going with Billy. Well, according to their yearbook, 
Wendy didn't go out with Billy -- Heather did.

The only explanation was that Wendy wrote the journal, 
hoping to expose the boot camp. She changed the names, 
in case the journal was found. (Real nice friend, eh?) 
She also used the simple fact that Heather had a sister 
and she didn'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 phone this time. She was hesitant to 
meet me, but I used a little of the old Duffy charm to 
get her to meet. (Honesty compels me to admit that I 
had to pay for her 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, and I hoped she would be, too. (Ok, 
not for the reason you're thinking.) I was simply 
hoping that alcohol would free up her lips. (Ah, that 
didn't sound any better.)

When she showed up at the restaurant I was a little 
taken back. She was wearing a cleavage-spilling red 
dress. Scanning upwards from there, I saw her face and 
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 her know why I was really there...sort 
of.

I showed her an old picture of the bald guard 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 to grab 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 
should have 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 her to stay. After a few minutes, I 
slipped my hand into my pocket and pressed the record 
button on my little tape recorder. From my other pocket 
I pulled out a copy of the journal and handed it to 
her. She glanced at it and quickly confirmed my 
suspicions by denying she'd written it. Then she read 
it over a 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!" (And that's why I brought along a 
copy this time.)

"I even donated to her husband's election fund."

At first she didn't want to talk, period. She said it 
was in her past, and it 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," she sneered.

"It can't hurt," I said, double-checking my recorder. 
"So this 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 
she was 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 then she flashed me a lethal look. "Anyway, moving 
on, did the story really unfold 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 
search you like that?"

She checked the account again. "Yeah, in the gym, like 
that...all of us...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 appropriate part. "Yeah, I almost 
forgot about that homeless guy. She also seemed to 
remember what people said, word for word."

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

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

"So you actually got the enema?" I said, without 
thinking. I had to grab her wrist again to stop her 
getaway. It took some apologizing to get her 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 on and asked her again.

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

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

"Alright, I'll tell yah, and then I'm out of here, and 
don't forget the money for the sitter," she said, 
wiping her face. I put some cash on the table and she 
continued.

"Ok, I'm pretty sure I know why they stopped," she 
said, as she crumpled up the papers again. "There was a 
little incident between her and the blonde."

"Incident?"

"Yeah, even though we were good friends back then, she 
always made me feel a little uneasy. Lets just say I 
think she liked showering with the other girls more 
than she should have, even though she always had a 
boyfriend, if you 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 really quickly. And their bunks were only a 
foot or two apart. I think you can see where this is 
going."

I did, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity. "I'm 
confused," I said, 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 sized for grade-schoolers. Well, one night, I 
think it was like a week into the camp, I was awakened 
by the lights being turned on and the bald guy's 
screaming. When I cleared my eyes I saw that the blonde 
and Wendy were in the same cot, and Wendy was 
scrambling to put her shirt on, but the bald guy yanked 
it away from her. The female guard was also there, and 
when she pulled the blonde off the cot, I saw that her 
panties were wrapped around her ankles. Even though I 
was still groggy, I could put 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 were always there. Anyways, I was surprised 
to see the bald guard move one of their cots to the 
center of the room, because I thought they were bolted 
down. I was also surprised to see the blonde take off 
her night shirt and Wendy slide off her panties, 
leaving them both buck naked. I thought they were in 
for a whipping, but they had other plans."

This time when she looked up at me, and I shrugged my 
shoulders, I meant it. "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 then they were told to pack their bags. 
That's the way it was at camp, either you took their 
punishment, or 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 guard even made the rest of us 
gather around their cot. It was tough to watch."

"What did they do?"

"Fucking pig," she hissed. 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 did they actually do it...ah, do each 
other?"

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

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

"Well, Wendy left with the two guards, and Blondie 
moved her cot back. When I woke up the next morning, 
there was another girl sleeping in 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 
other group was on the other side of the school. We 
never even saw them, or worked with them. So for the 
next week, I never saw Wendy at all. And it took years 
to renew our friendship."

"And you knew nothing of the journal?"

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

"Did anything ever happen to you?"

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

"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 conditioned office. 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 her not 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 for her."

"Do you think it was a set up?"

"Welcome to the party.... Yeah, to this day I think 
Blondie set her up. I mean, after that night Blondie 
never went out on work detail again, and Baldie finally 
got Wendy into his office."

"Are you sure?"

She just nodded her head, then paused and frowned. "Oh 
my god! This isn'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...or maybe you're planning to do some 
blackmailing. Yeah, you know she'd do just about 
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 pretty little waitress bringing the 
check over. I made some small talk with her before 
mentioning that I was staying at a local motel, with a 
wink. Smooth, eh? She answered by tossing a glass of 
water in my face. It was pretty daring, 'cause it 
could've gotten her fired. But it was a small glass, 
and all the ice had melted, 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 been right about Wendy's having a son. 
I overlooked him because he was now an 18-year-old 
college freshman, who had been raised by his 
grandmother, and who still used his mother's maiden 
name. I had his date of birth, and the math was easy. 
He was born in May the year after Wendy went to boot 
camp. Yep, about nine months later. I also figured 
Heather was probably right about Wendy being willing to 
do anything to keep this from getting out, especially 
now.

On the drive back to Vermont my mind was a-buzz with 
possibilities. But I'm not really a blackmailer, and 
her husband was friendly enough with my father to know 
he should stay out of our business. So he had my vote.

But after all I went through to dig up the information, 
it was really tough to do nothing with it..., and now 
Wendy seemed like such an obnoxious bitch. I even found 
out 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 a governor's 
wife...yet.

The End
  
Thanks for reading my story
Please send me your comments.

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 26