The Missile 4
Copyright© 2026 by Zen Master
Chapter 2: Parking. And Spots.
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 2: Parking. And Spots. - The fourth in a continuing series about how the Missile came to be the man we all know.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa GameLit
I got up bright and early Sunday morning. It was pretty much confirmed, I slept better after ‘snuggling’ with Cindy or Nell. Well, in my original journal from back then it actually says Cindy ‘and’ Nell, but for this particular subject that means something else which hadn’t happened yet. It probably wouldn’t happen for a while, either, so for this publication I’ve changed it to ‘Cindy or Nell’.
My ALPRA email had another four ‘I’ll be there’ notes, all well past the deadline in both my announcement email and the BTF’s website. Fine, they can attend and I appreciate the warning, but they can be charged $5. I added them at the bottom of my confirmed student list, with a note that said that, and both printed it for me and emailed it for Mary.
Doug didn’t need a ride; Jeff Ostwald wanted to go to training and would take him. Good. Nell must have gotten up early, she was in our driveway at 6:45 to see if we could make it to the BTF by 8. I put all my stuff in the back seat. Everything we’d bought at Ace the night before was already there or in the truck’s bed.
It was a fairly nice day, actually. It was cool but not too bad, and it hadn’t rained for a couple of days so the parking lot we were using was dry. There was almost no traffic, on a Sunday morning before church, and we got there well before 8. We parked in front of the admin building and went in to see who was there. So far, we had Mary, Ron, and Rick.
Nell came in behind me. I looked at them. They looked at us. I smiled. “Am I really in charge of this? I’m sixteen. I don’t know ANYTHING about being in charge!”
Ron said “Mary’s in charge of all the admin stuff. I’m in charge of the rest of the site. You’re in charge of this training thing. You’re the one who knows what the kids need, right?”
“What’s Rick in charge of?”
“He’s in charge of doing whatever me, you, or Mary tell him to do.”
Huh. “Am I old enough to say ‘Well, shit!’?”
We all laughed. I pulled the final version of the pre-registration list out of my folio and handed it to Mary. I also had a copy of everything for my own notes, to write down what needed to be added, removed, or changed. Maybe the next time would work better. Certainly, I needed an overall checklist for site selection, site prep, parking, drinks, bathrooms, and probably much more.
“This is the same as what I emailed to you earlier. That’s the final version. The four on the bottom sent me their emails yesterday and don’t get in free. Anyone who isn’t on that list and isn’t helping with setup pays $5 if they are my age and $10 if they are older.”
“Okay, I will need at least one helper to mark all the spots. Two would be faster. That can’t take more than an hour, surely, and we need to get it done as soon as we can so the paint can dry. Let’s see ... Coffee, cold drinks, snacks, and bathrooms. Did we get the portable bathroom, or the port-a-potties?”
“We have ten port-a-potties and a wash station.”
“Good, where are they? Is the locker room clearly marked ‘Ladies Room’? And, before long we need to BLOCK the driveway, so our customers don’t all try to come in here and jam the place up. Did we get permission to park across the street?”
“The parking is a ‘Jim’ question. He’s supposed to be here soon.”
“Good. He’ll be in charge, and we can blame him for everything.”
“Why do we need to block the driveway?” That was Mary.
I knew the answer to that one, and I wasn’t sure anyone else did. “If we don’t, we’ll have people coming in here looking for a parking spot. We’re expecting about 80 fifteen-year-olds being delivered by parents who don’t know where they are going. We need to be prepared for more, though. They will completely jam this place, and we’ll end up with people parking where we’re trying to teach something. We want to make sure that confused drivers do NOT get a chance to mix people standing around with cars driving around, and the easiest way to do that is to keep the cars out of here.”
I stopped to let them digest that. “I want that driveway blocked with something that absolutely prevents any of our trainees getting run over by some idiot trying to find a parking spot ‘just a little bit closer’. If you let one car in, thirty more will come in right behind them. No. Parking is across the street, whether we have permission or not. For the future, we can figure something out here on our own land, but we’re not ready yet. We need to block the driveway out at the street, before we do anything else.”
“What about Jim?”
“Staff who are working and show up early can park in here. Staff who show up with all the trainees can park with the trainees. Who’s driving the forklift?”
Rick raised his hand. “That’s me.”
“Awesome. You’ll have to show me how, sometime, so I can use it when you’re not here. For now, find something to block the whole driveway except for an opening wide enough for a car, maybe 8-10 feet wide. When you’re done, park the forklift right in the middle of the gap. Pedestrians can walk past it. Bicycles and motorcycles can go past it. Nothing bigger. Okay?”
“Got it. Shouldn’t be any trouble at all.”
“Good. Ron, what do you need to do?”
“I guess help you.”
“Nell, can you help us?”
“Of course, Sam.”
“Thank you. Ron, do we have anything handy that’s 12 feet long and is easily moved? We also need 4’ and 6’, but I brought some lumber if we have a saw to cut it to length for those.”
“We have a saw. I brought mine from home just in case.”
“That’s great. Okay, we brought supplies but I guess I should go look at the training site first. Rick, will you need any help blocking the driveway?”
“Maybe, don’t know yet. I’ll either get it done or come get you for help.”
“That IS the right answer! Thanks. Okay, let’s go see what we’ve got.”
I led Nell and Ron down the hall, past the meeting rooms, and out the back door. Without opening a gate or climbing a fence, that was supposed to be the only way into the rest of the facility. Everyone was supposed to pass the office first.
While we walked, I asked “Ron, I apologize if this is a dumb question, but are you or Rick Weapons?”
“No, we are not. I believe that you are the only ALPRA employee who can enter the Portals. The State Police and the National Guard both have some, but no one else in ALPRA.”
“I was beginning to think that might be it. I’m sixteen. You guys are treating me with WAY more respect than I deserve. Now, I know I’m wonderful and deserve it, but you guys don’t know that. It’s been worrying me.”
“Yeah, but you can enter those Portals. We can’t. ALPRA is here to keep the Portals under control. We don’t have enough adult Weapons to do it. We were tearing our hair out trying to get all the portals visited at least once every two months. When all you kids got your weapons on August first, Mr. Smith called it a godsend and told us we had to do whatever it took to get you all up and running as fast as possible. At the same time, we all know what a public relations disaster it would be if we lost some of you, so any training you can come up with we’ll support.”
“Yeah, I got that. So, you guys are screwed. You have to support us and help us get ready, but you have no idea what we need. Hell, we don’t know what we really need. We’re going in there and realizing ‘Dammit, we should have brought a rope! And a saw. And an axe’.”
“Do you have a list of stuff you always bring? I’ve seen you talk about that on your press conferences. Maybe we should put that on our website.”
I stopped. “Now, THAT’s a good idea. We’re not done adding things, but even our current lists today could help someone just starting out. I’ll get that to you. If you don’t get it in a couple of days, remind me. We should do that.”
The pavilion was fine as a public changing and break area. It needed more tables and chairs, though. Ron pointed out the line of port-a-potties and the wash station. I wanted to use a part of the open yard south of the pavilion, and it seemed clear enough.
“Okay, I’m going to go get our stuff out of the truck. Ron, can you help me? Nell, do you want to wait here or come with?”
Nell said “I’ll go. I can help carry stuff.”
“Okay, thanks. Ron, how big is your saw? Does the pavilion have power?”
Ron said “I can carry it, and I don’t know.”
“Well, we’re gonna be cutting wood, so set it up wherever has power that you don’t mind sawdust. I think the pavilion would be best, if it works.”
We split up, Ron to go get his saw. I took the wood and the hammer as the most awkward and the heaviest items. Nell took the bags of paint cans and the other stuff. We met back at the admin building’s front door, and I held it open for Nell and Ron. They beat me to the back door, but it opened outward so Nell just turned around and backed it open, holding it for Ron and me. Teamwork!
I’d wanted to do it right beside the pavilion, but there just wasn’t enough room. If we started just past it, we’d have more than 50 feet between the railroad tracks and whatever that thing was. That would give us three or four rows, and we could extend them for four or five hundred feet if we had to.
I left the wood with Ron and walked over to the tracks. I picked a good spot and decided “Okay, we’ll start the back row here. I want to measure four feet in from the railroad ... waddya call this? Wall? Embankment? ... and mark the first spot. For now, let’s just use a blue dot. The tape measure for four feet, and once we have that we just spray the dot. Okay, now we want a straight line away from the tracks, so we use the hammer and a nail to make it permanent.”
Nell got the box of nails open and handed me one, and I drove it into the asphalt at the blue dot. Then we took the chalk line and hooked it over the nail, and pulled it out away from the tracks. Here was why I wanted a disposable 12’ rod. I didn’t want to paint up the tape measure. I heard the saw start, so I walked over to Ron and picked up one of the 1x2s.
“We need measuring rods in four feet, six feet, and twelve feet. These are eight feet long, so we can cut them to make the four-foot and one six-foot rods. Do you have anything we can make a twelve-foot rod from?”
Ron allowed as how they almost certainly had something that would work, but he didn’t know where it would be. Fine. “Cut the 4’ and 6’ rods. 4+8 is 12, and we can use the leftover 2’ rod to nail them. That will give us 12’.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.