HOMEWARD BOUND
"Who knows where a journey may lead?" I grunted as I watched my handler standing naked with blue uniformed LT Tina and Agents Cliff and Logan. Called from behind the wire of the Hen house and ordered to drop the blanket, Jane, my handler, was the next to last of the two females still held naked in the holding pen.
Earlier working undercover, Jane and I had been taken along with defaulting debtors and runaway indenturees captured filming a porn flick in an on-campus theatre at River Bend.
As I stood by holding the wire watching my handler run through out-processing for shipment to the Institute, hands on head, open mouth, squat and cough, bend over, and spread cheeks, dashing my hopes that my handler and I would be treated with gentility and deference and released.
We were in words Jane whispered to me behind the wire, "Homeward Bound" for the headquarters of the Institute. Jane and the capture team regarded The Institute as home station. Jane had clear a expectation. As a newly recruited indenturee, I could only wonder what lay in store for me. I hadn't any clue or indication.
My handler grunted when Cliff's fingers gruffly penetrated her insides. I couldn't bear to watch. I turned away.
My relationship with Jane evolved during the time we roomed together. My real roommate Felicity Bogan had been the subject of a body execution on an earlier roundup in River Bend. Jane my handler became her stand - in, my new roommate, taking Felicity's place in my dorm.
Jane was a good match for Felicity, by height, weight, and bust size, but I had to teach Jane Felicity's mannerisms, how she sat down, how she walked, how she spoke. "To be a good actress," I told Jane, "the externals must match the intangible quality of what come from inside."
There were differences, in personality, between Jane and Felicity whom Jane replaced in my dorm. In the communal showers the real Felicity may have done nothing more than turn her lip up in disgust at guys who claimed to be transmen gawking at us in the shower. Jane as Felicity, taunting two guys harassing us, drew them closer to splash soap in their eyes. That tale went viral before the round up. Brought before the Dean, Jane questioned the accusation in an award winning performance, "Attacking men because they weren't real transmen? Oh, no. The gal-guys were splashing soap around. Typical girl-gals, they have bad aim. They got some soap in their eyes."
My reverie was broken when Lt Tina, neatly attired in the dress unform, hair tied perfectly back, called out my name, "Bliss, drop your wrap, get out here. You're the last starlet from the female cast in a porn production rounded up at an on -- campus. Time to make your entrance on the stage, Starlet. We're waiting on you girl."
Casting aside the blanket I emerged from the cage to present my body for inspection.
"Quiet," Cliff, the tall blond Institute's enforcement Agent in a rumpled blue utility uniform with an ironed -- on gold star, ordered. "Hands on your head, feet apart," Cliff growled. Standing to Cliff's right was his partner Logan. Cliff's hands warmed my skin as he massaged my under arms, under-boobs, inside legs, groinal crease, vaginal lips, and mound.
"I crave your touch," I cooed, "It feels so wonderful, chases away the blues when life's been tough."
"She's reciting a line from the play," Logan, also in the rough utility uniform, snickered.
"Craving my touch? Hmm OK, bend over," Cliff barked, "Touch your feet." Waiting for me to comply, Cliff shouted a command, "You know the drill. Reach for that puffy behind and pull those sweet cheeks apart."
I heard the screeching sound of Cliff's stretching his latex gloves. "You must really like me," I told Cliff, "Perhaps we should stop meeting this way and go out on a regular date." I gasped as Cliff's thumb penetrated my rectum.
I had gotten quite used to Cliff's touch. While rooming with my handler undercover agent Jane in the dorm rooms, Cliff would periodically pay a visit to interview me and Jane on videotape. Every interview was preceded by a strip -- search. I had to stand bare naked in the middle of the room hands on head, feet apart, while Cliff turned my clothes inside out and felt along the seams. I winked at Jane when I caught her eyes following Cliff's hands as he explored the contours of my body. "you could join me and share the enchantment of his touch," I invited Jane.
"Only if Cliff would join us in the shower," Jane taunted Cliff.
Required to remain naked frozen in place with my clothing scattered at my feet, I reported progress we were making toward getting a role in the porn production which attracted defaulting debtors. The cast, I learned from the interchange between Jane and Cliff while I presented my naked body with arms were extended, presented a "target of opportunity." The real "person of interest" was the director Bernie, a former officer. Having deserted and been declared truant, the director was now sought by the Institute.
"OK, Jane," Cliff commanded, "you're next."
Cliff backed off this request when Jane threatened to have Nurse Jenny permanently cure his toxic masculinity. "There is the option," I reminded Cliff, "a threesome in the shower."
Where did the journey as an informer begin? Actually, my story began long before the round up of the cast of a porn production. Along with my handler Jane, I infiltrated a porn production to spy on the cast and crew.
Initially I found my role troubling. With one or two exceptions, none of these girls taken in the roundup set out with evil in mind. What drove these girls to porn was debt. They were trying to raise money to pay off the debt and avoid getting seized in the interim. In a sense I was the bad gal. I was a snitch, an undercover informant, but what ws my choice? I had signed an indenture. I had one right: to obey.
Indeed, the same was true for the capture team, who had brought me in as an Institute asset. Cliff, whose index and middle fingers massaged my clit, and my handler Jane who had preceded me were pivotal characters in the first act of the drama.
Weeks before the round -- up of the porn production's cast, I was a care -- free college girl, a free woman, out with my friend and roommate Felicity Bogan when Cliff and Jane, dressed in police uniforms swooped down on Felicity's car. After removing Felicity and cuffing her for default on her auto loan, Cliff inspected my id. A small default, recently declared, popped up. His partner Jane was inclined to let me go with a warning to bring my account current.
Cliff's words were harsh, "It's all dollars and sense!" Cliff declared, "Women are the items on the ledger that balances the Institute's books. They're the Institute's cash cow."
"Fresh out of Security School at The Institute, Cliff, you might say that. The Institute," Jane acknowledged, "you'll learn, Cliff, rightly or wrongly, tends to make decisions based upon the bottom line: the risk that the benefit will exceed the expense." To me, Jane ordered, "OK cupcake out of the car." To Cliff, Jane smirked, "You wanted to take her. You check her out."
"When a-traditional married couples, unable to do it the natural way, want a child and attractive Surrogates can be tempted into overspending and finding themselves in default. When hospitals and health food companies seek human milk," Cliff lectured as he had me bent over the hood for a quick pat down frisk, "girls in default are plucked off the street to join the herd."
"Cupcake sized cup A/B tits draw too little to justify the expense of a body execution for a small debt," Jane observed, "If the Institute can't talk a relative into buying her, the Institute will release her with a promise to bring the debt up to date."
