This file is a part of Elf Sternberg's Collected Works on ASSTR.  The
complete archive of Elf's work can be found on his website at:

http://www.drizzle.com/~elf

The author can be contacted at:

mailto:elf@drizzle.com

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                                  Sarge

Journal Entry 165 / 00293

Elenya, Cerim 18, 00293

I closed my eyes and sighed. I had had to wait until ten in the dark
for this, but finally I had the entire showerhall to myself. I sighed
as the water coursed over my fur and the heat sank into my skin. Sixteen
weeks of sheer pain and suffering were over, and come the first light of
dawn I would no longer be 'a recruit' and could go right in PAS school;
first thing, though, was to wash those weeks away.

Not that I thought that would ever happen, really. Boot camp had left
its indelible mark upon me. Yesterday I had done ten (TEN!) chin-ups;
when I had first come into camp I had been unable to do even one. Both
of my tentacles were completely muscled. As I caressed my fur and ran
one mitten down the length of the other ten I could feel the muscles
underneath, like steel bands wrapped around bone. And I liked the way I
looked, now, with my thighs firm and my shoulders broadened. I wondered
what Mom would say.

I grabbed the bottle of soap and began stroking it into the fur at
my shoulders, they way I always started. The heat and water from the
shower were seductive, and I realized just how tired I was. Worse yet, I
realized, dawn was less than five hours away and if I'd just waited that
five hours I could have gone home and taken a shower by myself back at
home. I've got to admit, though, I did take perverse pleasure in finally
having the barrack's echoing showerstall all to my selfish little self.

I worked my way down, being very functional as I did so. My nipples,
however, tend to vary in their sensitivities with my cycles, and today
they were particularly sensitive, making me painfully aware that I
hadn't masturbated (or had sex with someone, for that matter) in the
past hundred days or so.

I caressed my breasts slowly, lifting them slightly from underneath,
relieving myself if only for a moment of constantly fighting centrifugy
to keep them up, and stroked the undersides gently as I did so. It felt
so good that I just sighed and sagged back against the cool tiles of
the shower.

I slid my mitts down further, towards my hips and crotch, and as I did so
I slowed down; I wanted this self-pleasuring to last as long as it could;
the way I felt I knew the moment I touched my clit I was going to come.

"Shardik?"

Dammit! Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn... I sighed and took my hands
away from their intended destination, stepping back into the flow of water
to rinse off what little soap I had managed to distribute. "Here, sir."
What is she doing up so late?

"At ease, Shardik. Where are you? I can't see a thing through all
this steam."

I smiled; I was also behind the curving privacy barricades of brick-red
tile so that she couldn't have seen me anyway. "I appreciate the heat,
sir. I'm back here, behind the left shield."

Sergeant K'Perea appeared through the thick steam, two identical curls of
vapor forming behind her. She always appeared to be moving at double-time;
I don't think I'd ever see her take a 'leisurely' walk.

I've had a crush on Perry since I first met her; don't ask me why,
she is most certainly not my type. But I've been told it's common for
someone to become attached to their Drill Sergeant, and that is what
Perry is to me.  A Felinzi built beyond all measure of specifications,
Perry is the definition of 'bulk.' I've only ever seen her arms bare,
and those are thick, muscled branches that no amount of fur could ever
obscure. Her body is broad to the point of being a wall; her legs, even
through the combat uniform, are obviously huge and strong. She can run
for hours without getting tired.

On the other hand, she has an incredibly attractive fur pattern. Solid
black, except for a white spot right above her nose, and then from
between her eyes to almost the top of her head is another needle-shaped
shaft of white. Her hands are also white, extending up into the wrist,
but the left one has some black streaks that create a white patch in the
shape of a trefoil. Her whiskers, too, are white, and incredibly long;
the result, I've heard, of her brother cutting them off when she was
three. They grew back with a vengeance.

She seemed to smile as she watched me appraise her, then said "What
keeps you up so late?"

Didn't I just wonder that about her? "Taking a shower, sir."

"By yourself."

"Yes, sir."

She sighed. "I came looking for you, Shardik, because as I filled out
my final review of you and the rest of your class, I realized I require
a statement from you, on the record."

"Sir?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Let me preface this. You listed your
family name as Shardik, and Shardik himself calls you his daughter. Very
well. For the record, P'raine Shardik, have I ever, in any way, over
the past four months treated you with anything less than fairness and
professionalism?"

I almost laughed; that was the second time this day someone had asked
me that question, and Dad had asked it much earlier on, when I had been
allowed a call home. "For the record, sir, you have been nothing but
fair, professional, and even-handed with me. You have never shown me
undue privilege or harshness."

"Thank you." She was quiet for along time, and so was I, as if I was
waiting for something she was unsure how to express.

So I spoke up. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask why?"

"Both Joshua and I agreed that my behavior during your assignment here
seemed nothing less than exemplary, which surprised even me. I wanted
to make sure that you got the same opinion I did, and that neither I
nor Josh would found ourselves surprised by statements you make later."

"Why is that so important to you?"

"Because I like to think I can maintain my professional edge, even when
I've been smitten." She smiled awkwardly.

"Sir?"

Her fur was matting down from the steam alone, and her uniform must
have been getting soaked. "Let's just say that I haven't had a good
self-destructive urge in a long time, but I find myself fascinated by you.
I shouldn't have an interest in you, a recruit, but I do. At first I
wanted to know why someone from your family would become a PA Scout,
but the more I watched you the more I realized that you, by yourself,
fascinated me." That was a long speech for her.

I blinked, thinking for a moment. The only coherent thing I could think
to say was "That's a fair thing to admit."

"I should have my role as training officer reassessed for even thinking,
much less admitting to, my infatuation."

I blinked again. "Fascination." "Infatuation." Perry was the last woman in
the world I would have ever thought to hear those word from, but they were
the exact same words I would have used to describe my feelings towards
her. Of course, in my case it may just have been Stockholm Syndrome,
maybe not. All I knew was that now that her authority over me was over,
I still craved her affection.

"Sir... I've been told it's not unusual for a recruit to fall for their
drill instructor, but the other way around?"

She wiped the beads of water that were collecting above her violet,
slitted eyes. There was a small tug on one corner of her muzzle, a
half-smile brewing. "Call it an impulse."

I decided it was time for an impulse of my own. I leaned over and said
"Can I call you Perry if you call me Rainy?"

"I can do that. So can you."

"Then can you kiss me? On impulse?"

I had meant that comment as a way of encouraging, of being the one
giving the hints. She had other ideas. With a slight move she stood up
on her toes and when her muzzle met my lips she suddenly pushed against
me with so much force I was afraid of a concussion when my head hit the
wall of the shower, but just as fast her paw was at the back of my head,
catching me and buffering the impact. Her tongue was in my mouth before I
could register it passing my lips; I recovered my wits just long enough
to put my mitts around her waist. We stood there, kissing each other
with abandon, under the running water of my showerhead.

She backed off, the look on her face between guilt and fear. "Did
I just..."

"Uh-huh," I replied. "And you got your uniform soaked."

"Should I take it off?"

I nodded. I think I bounced my head a little too rapidly, because she
laughed as she stripped off her clothing.

I had often wondered what the rest of her looked like. As she shucked
her shirt and pants and threw them aside (the landed with a wet >plop<,
soaked completely through), I watched her hard and muscular body reveal
itself.  There was so little fat on her body that her breasts seemed to
be vanishing against her ribcage.

Too much of my mother struck me then, because I know that's not healthy. I
worried that if she were ever in extended combat, she would run out of
body sugars fast and faint.

There was something about all this that I found unappealing, because
it seemed so, well, unfeminine, but on the other hand the amount of
obvious effort she put into getting her body into it's current shape
earned her my complete respect, and that, for some weird reason, turned
me on. I found my hands roaming over her chest, playing with her nipples,
feeling her hard abdominals, as she pitched free the last of her clothing.

She turned and smiled, pushing me up against the tiles again before
kneeling before me, parting my cunt with her paws and sliding her muzzle
deep between my lips.

Gods! she was fast, and her speed made me hot, her tongue digging deep
into me, really deep-- she had a long tongue, sliding up deep enough into
me that she could stroke the roof of my vagina with it, and have enough
left over to press against my clit. Or was that her muzzle? I couldn't
tell, and I didn't care. The water ran down my fur in little rivulets, and
it was all I could do to just stay standing as her tongue pushed further
against my cunt, my mittens wrapped around her head and holding onto her
ears as she ate me. Sometimes she would pull back, just enough to get me
to whimper and beg, and then she would thrust again, sometimes pressing
her tongue against my asshole, which is a really sensitive spot for me.

"Oh, Perry..." I whispered. I doubt if she heard me. All I know is that
she was just so good at it, her paws around my hips and kneading my butt
in that hot shower, full of steam. "Oh, yes," I remember saying louder,
then arching my back as my body tensed and I came, shouting loud enough
I was sure I woke up my fellow barrackmates.

Perry stood up and held me to her, a small chuckle coming from her. "That
was sweet," she said.

"Thank you," I gasped, leaning my head against her shoulder. As I did so,
I slowly lowered myself down until we had switched positions. Now I was
the one staring at her cunny, and I leaned in to kiss her gently. She gave
a high-pitched "ooh!" as I did so, and reached down to hold herself open.
I knelt back in the shower and watched as she tugged on her own labia,
holding her lips apart and exposing her beautifully white clitoris to me.
I leaned in and began licking on her gently, and her whole body went
into convulsions.

I wrapped my tens around her thighs and played with her ass and her hole
from that side, but every time I licked her clitoris she would give a
little "Yip!" of pleasure and shake so violently I had to follow along
with the motions to keep up with her. She was coming with every 'yip,'
I suddenly realized. Almost every little stroke of my tongue across her
clit made her come, and I wrapped my now-muscular tens around thighs
and dug in, determined to make this little encounter well worth our
while. She struggled, sometimes holding my head tight between her legs,
sometimes trying to push me away (but not too forcefully) and I felt
like I was melding to her, our bodies becoming one in our pleasure.

Finally she said "Stop it, please!" and I backed away again, looking
up at her, blinking against the soft spray of water bouncing off of her
matted fur.

"You're good at that," she hissed, sitting down slowly and joining me
on the floor of the shower, just a little off the side from the stream
of water.

"Thanks." I stared at her hard and heavy body as she sagged against the
wall. Just the idea of sleeping next to her excited me... and now I was
going to get the chance.

She cocked her head a little to the side and said, "So, what are you
doing tomorrow?"

"Good question," I responded. "I had meant to go home and visit my
parents."

"Got a place of your own?"

"Yeah... little house at Tarnagoth."

"Can I see it?"

I smiled. Dad always said "All good things come to she who waits... and
waits... and waits." "You can at dawn. You have leave?"

"No assignments for three months. And I know you have to wait for an
opening at your school of choice. I assume you still went with PAS?"

I nodded. She pouted; I thought that was cute. "That school has openings
all the time. Still, let me cook you dinner tomorrow?"

"It's a deal!" I replied, leaning over to kiss her. "You are one daring
woman."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied, smiling.

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The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are Copyright (c) 1989-2000 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution limited
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