Isolation & Fear (Damned of the 2/19th Book Seven)

Breakup

War Fighter Tunnels
2/19th Special Weapons Group Area
Secure Area
Western Germany
11 November, 1987
1900 Hours

Groom's hands were warm and firm as she rubbed the knots in the muscles across my shoulder blades. I was sitting on the edge of the bed in the officer's room I was sharing with her, stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of granny panties, socks, and my boots. My brown hair was undone, falling across my chest, covering my breasts. I was staring at my hands, which had the weird smell of a combination of surgical gloves, KY jelly, and of course, vaginal fluids of over a dozen women.

With more than a little shock I realized that I could identify every single woman in the War Fighter Tunnels just by their vagina. Hell, just by the smell of their vagina. Between checking for any sores or STD's with the  rape victims, constant checks with the pregnant women to make sure that everything was fine. Yeah, the gloves were supposed to stop any fluid transfer, yeah, it was probably all in my head, but I couldn't seem to get the smell off my hands.

I was so sick of pussy for a moment I wished I was male but then realized I'd have to be gay.

"Pfenning for your thoughts," Groom said using her fingertips to rub the muscle across my left shoulderblade. The muscle released and the tension relaxed in my neck.

I sighed. "Do you really wanna know?"

She laughed, which made me smile. "I can guess, but go ahead and tell me."

"The smell doesn't wash off, and I'm so sick of seeing vaginas I want to scream," I told her.

She laughed harder, her hands stopping the rubbing. "I can't blame you. I figured this was going to happen sooner or later," She told me. She shifted and sat next to me, reaching down to my BDU top and getting my pack of smokes and my lighter out.

"It's just, I mean, I just can't," I said lamely.

She opened the pack and shook two out, shrugging, "Hell, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner," she giggled, "I wonder if porn stars ever get tired of dicks?"

That made me laugh while she lit the two cigarettes. I took the one that she handed me and took a deep drag. The nicotine helped me relax, flowing into my bloodstream from my lungs.

"I take it you don't wanna have sex?" She asked, nudging me with her elbow and wagging her eyebrows at me. "Wanna get between my legs and stare at my gash for a little while before rubbing it on your face? Get the smell all up your nose."

I laughed again, shoving her, and she joined me. It felt good to laugh. There hadn't been much to laugh about since Atlas had exploded and I'd been promoted to Corporal and put in charge of First Support Squad.

When we stopped and sat quietly, smoking our cigarettes, I could hear one of the babies fussing. My brain already knew that it wanted held. I'd learned to identify the different type of cries, based on pitch and all that good stuff. The baby needed burped, the cry was "I'm gonna explode, help me" in all it's glory.

Another one started crying, and that one was basically baby for "Shut the hell up, I'm trying to sleep!"

The cries of the babies made my breasts ache inside.

I looked at Groom and she grinned back. "Trapped in the tunnels with babies. It's like my worst nightmare," she shook her head, suddenly serious, and her hand went to own, so far flat, stomach and slowly rubbed it.

"Been thinking about this a lot since we've been down here," She said softly. "Are you sure there's no birth defects? I'm really worried since the Chernobyl meltdown. I mean, we were exposed pretty heavily to that shit."