Chapter 4: The Physical

At the end of our marksmanship test, Megan and I headed to the first aid station for our physicals. I turned to Megan and said, “Girl, you’re fucking nuts you know that. That man could squash you like a June bug and not work up a sweat.”

She just smiled, “Yeah, but I figured if they send both of us to the brig or whatever the hell they call it in the arm. Then we’d have our time and place. Hell, they can’t throw us in twice.” Grabbing a handful of my dick through my shorts she said, “You think we could get over to the barracks for a quickie?”

“Nah, tonight after lights out, we should meet at the range. It should be empty then or I hope it will be.” I said after seeing how badly some of the people from other regions were shooting. “Hopefully, remedial marksmanship isn’t on the schedule, yet today.”

“I hope it is. We’ll have the barracks to ourselves.” She, too, had seen what the Sergeant had. Most of the people that arrived on our bus were hitting the targets. It wasn’t so for the others.

We finished setting up the time for a meet-up before we arrived at the wash-down station. The archway had multiple jets of water hosing the dirt and mud from our clothes. The soaking water made Megan’s hot body look delectable again. It pressed the wet fabric into every curve of her frame. Despite the great view, it gave me, I was tired of wet or damp underwear. And the air-dry fan did little to improve the situation.

At the infirmary, we were left in the sun to dry. There were ten lines to choose from. Megan chose the line next to mine allowing us to continue talking and joking around. She fired the first shot. “Well, you’ve already proven to them you don’t have a brain. What else do they need to know about your physiology? That you have a small dick, also.”

“Damn you learned a new word in the vocabulary section of the IQ test. But I bet you can’t spell it.” I said ignoring the small penis comment.

“What is the wager?” Megan asked.

“I don’t know what do you want it to be?” I replied, figuring my “loser has to do whatever the winner says no matter what,” would go over like a lead zeppelin.

“Loser does whatever the winner says, period no arguments.” She said sure of herself.

“Ok, but only once,” I said fairly sure I’d get a blowjob out of it.

“Deal,” she said, taking my hand to shake it. She then went to spelling “P-H-Y-S-I-O-L-O-G-Y.” The big grin couldn’t be missed, “Now, I own you.”

“Incorrect,” I said knowing it was going to cause an argument. “What I said was, I bet you can’t spell it.” I emphasized ‘it’. “It is spelled I-T. So it kinda looks like you’re the one on the owing end.” Before she could get in a word I heard, “Private Ruston Johnson your up.”

While walking down the hall Megan was hollering after me, “That is bullshit. No way ... Anyone can spell it.”

I turned and shrugged at her, “Anyone but you. Now don’t be an Indian giver.” I knew from the looks around me it was an offensive term, but I didn’t really give a shit. It was a phrase I’d heard from some of the older rednecks over the years. So it was in the local lexicon of the area Megan and I came from.

I was pointed down a hall where a new draftee stood in his birthday suit. He was on a scale doing his best to cover his privates. Passed the nude soldier, I was again pointed to a chair in the exam room by a stocky black woman. She was in what I guess was the army’s version of a nurse’s uniform. On the nameplate on her large full chest was ‘CPL White.’ In a light voice, I didn’t expect from such a powerful-looking woman came, “I’m going to take some blood. Then you’ll need to strip for the rest of the examination. The doctor will be in for that.” I was glad for the explanation of what needed to happen and what would happen. All that was missing was the why.

“You mind me asking, why I have to strip?” I asked as politely as possible. She’d already slapped the pressure cuff on my upper arm and was pumping it up with a stethoscope in the crook of my arm.

She’d finished bleeding off the pressure writing on a chart, both my systolic and diastolic pressure readings before answering in a syrup-laden voice. “Because the army wants you to. Is that ok with you sunshine?”

“Yes ma’am. “ I said a bit shocked at her quick sarcasm. “You’ve been here a long time already today. And, I am guessing I’m not the first to ask that.”

She smiled at me while counting and looking at her watch. The thirty seconds passed, she wrote my heart rate in a different block. She also scanned the sheet adding, “I see you’re as smart as the IQ test said you are ... This might hurt a little.” She stated flatly pumping up the cuff a second time before sticking a needle in the vein that had bulged out filling a small vial. Pulling the needle out she added, “Ok I’m done with everything I need to do with you dressed. So, strip. The scale is in the hall. I need an accurate weight.” She pointed to the door.

Without argument, I shed my shoes and socks first. Then came my still damp shirt over my head while Corporal White stared bored at my bared torso. I stood undoing my shorts and slid them and the scratchy and still wet boxers supplied by the army down in one move. Standing back upright, I pointed at the door. “Through there? The scale I saw on the way in.”

Corporal White was no longer staring blankly at my chest. Her eyes were focused like a laser on my cock. In a very nonprofessional way, she said, “Damn private you’ve got one big penis. I’ve never seen one that big on a white guy before.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” I said heading to the door. I strolled into the hall led by my hanging dick. Corporal White followed behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a couple of other nurses as they turned and stared at my dick. They weren’t so much me as my cock and ass. I doubt they could’ve picked my face out of a lineup.

Stepping on the scale Corporal White did her best to balance the scales while constantly looking down. She finally wrote down two-ten on the clipboard muttering, “Half that has to be dick.” Out loud she said, “You can go back into the exam room the doctor will be right in, shortly.”

I went back to the small room and walked around it, reading the posters on the walls. I’d already had my ass stuck to vinyl once in the past thirty-two hours. I didn’t see a need for a second go-around. The nurse didn’t close the door behind me as I expected. She instead left me a fish in a fishbowl. I noticed the increase in traffic from the hall outside the door. A few of the nurses even stepped into the room. Most said something to the effect of, “Oh sorry I thought this room was empty.” A couple just stared a moment then left.

I was about to say something when a pretty early thirty-ish brunet with shoulder-length hair and dark brown eyes came in. She still had firm-looking breasts not showing the hallmarks of the military-issued bra. She had nothing in the way of bra lines, I’d seen on the rest of the female staff walking around. Her tits had a nice small teardrop shape that her tight-fitting shirt that still had the folding creases in it showed off. They hung perfectly on her fit obviously army-honed frame. She was wearing a set of small shorts that also hugged her slightly flared hips above her olive tanned legs that were sculpted. And at five-foot-seven her frame was half scrumptious looking legs. She said closing the door, “I’m doctor Corvin. Sorry, it took so long to get here, I had to change I got fluids on me.” Her dark brown eyes hadn’t left my dick the whole time she spoke

I thought it was strange she said fluids, not blood or puke, “No problem, I had a couple of visitors while I waited. It seems I’m something of an oddity.” I said. My statement startled her a bit. She then looked up at my face.

“Yes, you are.” She said mostly under her breath. She then addressed me, “Please sit up on the examining table.” I did as she said. The paper covering the table crinkled under my butt. She walked up in front of me stopping long enough for me to get the message. She wanted me to part my legs further, so she could stand between them. Doing her unspoken request, she stepped forward. Her smooth thighs rubbed against my inner thighs. Her chest heaved inches from my eyes. Her soft hands ran along my neck and up under my ears checking me in the usual examination fashion.

Her hands went back down my chest and around the edges of my pectoral muscles. This felt very non-medical and more sensual. “Good form, well developed.” Gathering her composure, she put the cold end of the stethoscope on my chest. “Breathe in ... Hold it ... Breathe out.” She repeated this four times moving the stainless steel device about on my chest. She moved it around to my back not changing her location but tilting ever closer as she adjusted the location of the disc. Eventually, her covered breasts were rubbing my cheeks, causing a stirring between my legs.

Satisfied I could breathe, she said, “Your lungs are clear and your airways are good.” She stepped back saying, “The next part of the exam will be a bit different than the ones you’ve had in the past. You’re a candidate for a special force that requires extra physical verifications.” She slid her hands along the insides of my thighs going up to my nuts. She leaned in close examining my nuts while she fingered and rolled them. I could feel her breath on my cock. It rustled my pubic hair. She hefted my balls in her hands asking me, “Have you ever had a venereal disease?”

“No ma’am,” I said embarrassed that my dick was growing and hardening.

Taking her hands from my balls, she recorded my answer. “And when was the last time you were checked for one?” She asked going back to rubbing my nut sack’s skin between her fingers until she had done it to every inch.

“Come to think of it never,” I answered. I’d never thought about asking the girls I fucked about such. I was usually just happy, they’d agreed to try and take my cock into their pussies.

“Ok and when was your last sexual encounter?” The pretty doctor tried to sound clinical. But her breath had shallowed and quickened slightly while she asked.

“Does this count as one?” I asked in return.

“Of course not, this is an examination.” She said only a bit offended. “But it’s what made the last soldier ejaculate.” She said giving me more information than I needed. She proceeded to take my semi-hard cock in between her hands and examined it next. “So when was the last sexual encounter?” she repeated.

My dick was growing and thickening in her warm soft palms, while her fingers ran along it. Her breath was again bouncing off my dick’s skin distracting me, making answering difficult. “Last night,” I said knowing she couldn’t share the information with anyone.

“Really,” she sounded intrigued “Didn’t you come in last night?”

“Yes. It was a long bus ride. But why do you ask?” I couldn’t imagine how when I’d sex last could have any bearing on a physical.

“Ok, I’ll have to take that into account,” her comment did not answer my question. Her hands though had gone from examining to lightly stroking. Her fingernail ran the length of my prick, sending shivers up my spine and blood to my dick. She did this a couple of times more from the “V” In my circumcised head to the joining root to my balls.

The handjob under the guise of an examination she’d done had my cock almost fully hard. I’d closed my eyes for a second enjoying the sensation and missed her pulling a tape measure out of her pocket. She put it along the top of my prick. She read off the measurement, “twenty-six centimeters in length.” She wrapped the flexible cloth tape measure around the base of my penis. Again she read off the reading, “sixteen centimeters.” Dr. Corvin put the tape back in her pocket, before recording the measurements on my chart.

“Are you going to explain that?” I asked never before having anyone measure my dick. I couldn’t imagine why the army cared.

“As I said earlier, there is a special top-secret unit that is being formed. And your blood type is “O” negative which is one of the requirements. Plus you passed the minimum IQ of one thirty by a long way. You passed the basic calisthenics requirements during the morning tests. Plus, you’ve already passed the marksmanship. So in layman’s terms, you can CLEP out of basic training. If you pass the last two tests. And they’re the hardest to pass.” She explained.

“And the last two?” I asked curious about what my dick length could have to do with a test for a special unit.

She didn’t answer the question instead she produced a form. Putting it on a clipboard. She handed it and a pen to me. “Sign at the ‘X’ and you’ll go forward on to the next two tests.”

“Don’t you think I should read it first?” I inquired, my dick still standing tall but beginning to fall.

“If you want to,” Dr. Corvin answered in a dismissive tone. “Basically it says, if you ever talk about the test to anyone without clearance you’re guilty of treason. The only prescribed punishment is the firing squad.”

“Seriously?” I was shocked disclosing any test could get you put on death row.

“Yes,” she said, “But you don’t have to sign. You’ll just go back to training with Sgt. Hill”

Damn, she did know how to motivate a guy. I glanced at the form and found the words ‘firing squad’ so I figured the doctor had told me the truth. I definitely had no urge to do any more basic training with the Sargent. I signed next to the X. Handing the clipboard back to her I inquired. “So what is the next test?”

“Normally, I’d have Specialist Foster come in for the recovery test. But she is currently giving it to another soldier. Somehow I doubt he’s going to pass.” She said unbuttoning the tight shirt, pulling it off.

Her tits were extraordinary. They jiggled slightly as she tossed the shirt aside. They had dark brown half dollar areolas with pre-hardened nipples raised up about a quarter inch. I so wanted to ply my lips to the gorgeous mounds that were defying gravity. Instead, I said, “What the hell?”

“I thought you might want to suck on them before I give you a blowjob.” She answered matter of factly; wrapping her hand as far around my prick as she could.

“Again, What the hell?” I was more than slightly confused.

“As I said, Specialist Foster is busy, but if you want to wait for her, I’ll understand. She is better looking than I am.” The doctor looked a bit dejected at my questioning and the implication I didn’t want a blowjob from her.

“No you’re more than pretty enough,” I said reassuring the doctor. “I was just wondering why? What is a recovery test?”