Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2006 01:26:37 +0800
From: YoDawgs Bl.net <yodawgs.blnet@gmail.com>
Subject: The Invisible War.

This story is about a boy who is reluctantly conscripted into the Military
Intelligence of a fictional futuristic army, nearly thirty years from now.

Emails may be sent to yodawgs.blnet@gmail.com


"Private Michael C. Brown!" The officer's crisp voice barked through the
microphone. A five-foot two boy stepped out of the seemingly neverending
line of conscripts for the Pan-Western Coalition, year 2030.
Blonde-streaked brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, fear on
his face, the private stepped forward, trembling slightly in his uniform;
black trousers with white camouflaged stripes bearing the colour and
insignia of the battalion. His mole-infused bare back was drenched in sweat
due to the high temperature of the recruitment station. Grey pupils dilated
with fear, he crept up to the officer at a snail's pace, unwilling to meet
the inevitable. The officer's hand smacked the table.

The boy started.

"Get a move on! Come on!" the officer shook his head impatiently. A man of
low disposability, the ruddy faced lieutenant was running short on his
wits. As the boy raised his right hand to his brow in a salute, the officer
did not bother to wait, and continued.

"Private Brown, you are assigned to the 21st Squadron of the Mechanised
Infantry Regiment. You will also be assigned a partner, who is higher than
you in rank. He will make sure that you follow the rules of this army, or
pay for it! Do you understand me, private?!" The officer barked again.

"Y-yes..." a faint reply was audible from Private Brown.

"Yes SIR!" came the loud correction. "Now get out of my sight!"

"Sergeant Lewis, remove this scum in front of me." The Tennessean accent
was crisp. The black eyes of the officer resembled an abyss, an unreadable
rift in reality to Private Brown. He shivered despite the heat, and a cold
sweat started to form on his white un-tanned chest, which was also
decorated by brown moles the size of pin-pricks.

"Private Stuart F. Barton!" the officer shouted. With relief, Brown knew
that he had been dismissed. A nervous black haired Caucasian glanced around
the room fearfully before stepping forward.

"Private! If you would follow me, please." A pubescent voice, British
accented, summoned him. He absent-mindedly followed the source of the
voice; out a side-door.

As soon as the private stepped out of the office, he shivered in the
air-conditioning of the adjacent room. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms
around himself in order to generate as much heat as possible. He realised
that his dime sized, almost-invisible pink nipples were painfully erect as
a result of the cold, losing their puffiness and making their shape
significantly more evident. Embarrassed of this, he folded his arms on his
chest, hiding them from view. Goosebumps began to form along his abdomen.

Standing in front of him was a fourteen-year old sandy-haired boy, whom he
assumed to be his assigned companion. He looked at the boy's shoulder just
to be certain. His suspicions were affirmed, when he noticed the four "V"s
branded upon the shoulder of the five-foot four boy. The sergeant was
staring down at him with what he assumed to be impunity. The older boy
donned a military eyepiece, shaded in blue, which showed various tactical
details through the translucent poly-fibrous plastic.

"Yes, I'm your assigned companion." Sergeant Lewis confirmed. "You look
cold. Don't worry, though. You will be able to control your body
temperature, once the hydrostatic gel is injected into your body, and once
we get the Dynamic Infantry Life Support System set up."

The superior pointed to a metal contraption attached to his belt. Brown
noticed a single wire running out of the machine, stretching to the back of
Sergeant Lewis' muscular, developing body. He stepped around his superior,
and realised that the wire was "plugged" into the spinal cord of Lewis'
body, at the point there the two kidneys were opposite one another. He
gasped.

"Am I gonna be like that as well?" he asked, a feeling of dread entering
him. "Sir?" he quickly added.

"Of course you are, private. Everybody here has to go through it one time
or another."

"Will it hurt, sir?"

"No pain, no gain, private. Obviously you must endure some discomfort, or
life wouldn't be good, would it?"

"Oh." Private Brown looked positively faint, entire body turning white. He
started to tremble, both because of the cold, and the impending pain that
he would be facing. Private Lewis looked down at him, piercing blue eyes
reading his every emotion.

"We're running late. You're the last recruit of this batch, so, off we go."
He gestured to a door, and Brown hesitantly walked through it.

"What's gonna happen?" he dared to ask Lewis, as they were walking down the
corridor that lay behind the door.

"You are going to get your rank implanted onto you. This, like many of the
programs that you will have to undergo here, will be painful, but not
excruciating."

"What is?" Brown continued, a feeling of panic rising up in his chest.
Lewis was just about to answer, when they stopped at a metal door, sealed
by a eccentric-looking security system.

"Hold on." Lewis inhaled deeply, stepped up to the clearance system, and
raised both hands high above his head, gripping the handlebars that hung
from the top of the machine. Brown admired the body of his superior in
front of him. He admired the stretching of the deltoids of the teenager,
along with the sudden exposure of the ribs. He desperately wanted to see
the front torso, but could not, as the machine shielded him from doing so.

"Sergeant Cayden Llewellyn Lewis." He said clearly into the microphone. He
then held his breath and waited, eyes screwed shut. Private Brown wondered
what was going on.

"Voice identified." The voice recognition system stated. "Standby for
hydrostatic verification."

In a nano-second, three needles pierced Sergeant Lewis' cherry sized pink
nipples and protruding navel. There was a sucking noise, and Brown saw the
transparent pipes adjoined to the needles currently embedded in his
companion's body slowly fill with green viscous fluid.

"Uh!" Lewis cried out with pain. "God!" he trembled involuntarily as
intense pain overcame him. He breathed in and out heavily, while his
knuckles went white as his hands clutched the handlebars in a vicelike
grip. Brown was horrified at the procedure. He was oblivious to this type
of action from where he came; Seattle, USA.

"Hydrostatic gel verified. Welcome, Sergeant Lewis." The needles
re-inserted the fluid back into Lewis' body, and retracted back into the
machine.

"Ahh!" the fourteen year old sergeant screamed, as the sensitive flesh of
his nipples was disrupted by the two-millimetre in diameter needles. He
stepped down from the machine and massaged the areas, paying more attention
to his nipples rather than his navel. All three areas were bleeding the
green substance. For some reason, Private Brown found the Lewis' action of
rubbing his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, along with eyes
screwed shut in pain and ecstasy strangely erotic. Lewis finally opened his
blue eyes and stared at Brown, pain still etched on his freckled face. He
staggered off the machine, clutching his stomach.

"Come on, then. It's because of you that I had to undergo that. Being so
late and all." He ushered Brown into the room, voice cracking.

Inside the room were ten other boys, clad in the trousers of the Coalition.
Five of the boys were seated in uncomfortable metal chairs, while the other
five were about the same age as Sergeant Lewis, and had their ranks
implanted onto them. He wondered how the "V"s and the stripes were
inserted.  They had colour, but they did not look like they were attached
to the skin of the boys. They looked as if they had GROWN out of the skin
on the shoulders and breast. He also noticed that some of the ranks were
imbued onto the soldiers' left breast, above the nipple, while some, like
Sergeant Lewis' were implanted on the left shoulder.

"Take a seat, private." Lewis pushed him onto the last remaining metal
chair. He yelped as his bare back touched the freezing metal of the
chair. Again, he was aware of his erect nipples, and attempted to hide them
by folding his arms.

"Don't be so uptight, private. Let loose a little." Lewis tugged his arms
loose, and placed them on his abdomen, where they now covered his deep
navel. The sergeant then proceeded to adjust some dials on the machine at
his pouch. When he pressed the "Confirm." Button, he went rigid for a few
seconds, eyes closed, while the skin on his body stretched, revealing his
form. Then, it passed, and Sergeant Lewis was no longer trembling with
pain, nor shivering with cold. The other boys on the chairs seemed as
intrigued as Private Brown, and stared at Sergeant Lewis with wide-open
eyes.

"I was cold." Lewis grinned.

A metal door opened, and an attractive brown haired lady dressed in a white
medical lab coat strode across the room. She gazed upon all the stricken
faces, the shivering half-naked bodies, and the companions standing over
their wards.

"Who shall we start with first?" she asked no one in particular. Then,
suddenly, with a jolt of panic, Brown made eye contact with her.

"How about this fellow here? He's got the same hair as I do." She
trilled. "Well, almost." She added, after seeing the blonde and white
streaks of Brown's hair.

"Private... err..." she glanced down at the nameplate by his empty utility
belt. "Brown." She completed.

"Where would you like your rank to be etched upon?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" he replied timidly.

"Oh." She laughed. "You can choose to have your rank displayed on your
shoulder..." she tapped his bare left shoulder, which grew goose bumps as a
result, "or on that cute little chest of yours." She pressed her thumb onto
Brown's left breast, flicking his light pink nipple.

"Nghh." He let out a soft moan, arching his body towards her fingers,
unable to take the sensation. He went red with shame as he corrected
himself.

"Lieutenant Ward." Lewis' voice echoed in the room. The girl started.

"Oh right. So where would you like it, soldier?"

Brown hesitated. He glanced around the room, trying to find something to
influence his decision. Then, suddenly, he thought of Sergeant Lewis. He
wanted to be as cool and forward as his companion. And that was more than
enough as an influencing factor.

"Shoulder, please." He replied.

"Okay!" she acknowledged. "Standby."

She drew out a sealed needle from within her breast pocket and tore open
the plastic covering. She flicked the needle and slowly approached Private
Brown.

"This will hurt, private. A lot." She jammed the needle onto his shoulder,
depressing the butt of the syringe. Intense pain shot through Brown's
shoulder, and he whimpered with agony, screwing up his eyes and pushing up
his face to heaven. He held his breath at first, but remembered what Lewis
had done, and started breathing in and out, controlling the breaths,
although they were loud and deep. His free hand gripped the handlebar of
the chair, steaming up the area around it.

"Ahh..." his chest expanded in and out as he tried to cope with the
pain. The other four boys who were seated stared at him, horror etched in
their faces. One private, a tanned dirty blonde boy on the verge of crying,
tried to rise to escape from the impending torment, but was pushed back in
the metal chair with a stern warning by his partner, a lanky red-headed
warrant officer.

Brown felt the needle extricate itself from his skin with a sting. He let
out a cry of pain and began to frantically nurse the afflicted
area. Although the needle prick was shallow, it seemed to have altered the
cell structure of his shoulder by a significant amount. He rubbed his
shoulder, gazing reproachfully at Lieutenant Ward. The skin now looked red
and inflamed, although a yellow tinge was now visible. He looked up at
Sergeant Lewis for further explanation. Lewis raised an eyebrow and put a
finger to his lips, signifying silence.

"Now, what do we have here?" he heard Ward comment, as she moved on to a
dark-haired boy who looked no older than eleven years. The boy gazed
tearfully up at her with green eyes, pupils dilated with fear. Further
mutterings were immaterial to Brown, so he leant back against the metal
chair, sucking in his breath as his back made contact with the cold
stainless steel. Behind him, Lewis stepped forward and leant on his chair,
placing both hands on the back of the chair, while sighing.

Brown felt Sergeant Lewis' fingers on his raw shoulder and gave a hiss of
pain, glaring up at him. Lewis' unreadable face stared down at him, and the
pressure on his throbbing skin was relieved considerably when Lewis'
finally withdrew his hand after a few seconds. Brown was surprised. What
exactly had Lewis' done? He half-turned in his seat as another member of
his squadron cried out in pain and looked curiously at the sergeant. Lewis
maintained a stoic expression, staring ahead. Brown looked around at the
other personnel in the room. He realised with a jolt that none of them
sported the same rank as Lewis, the highest being a Lance Corporal. He knew
enough about the insignia of the Coalition to figure out that Sergeant
Lewis was the highest in command, and probably the leader of the squad. He
stared hard at the four Vs with a circle at the bottom embedded into Lewis'
shoulder that signified that he was a staff sergeant.

"Wow." He thought to himself. He had just been enlisted and assigned to the
squad leader. He realised with shock at the treatment and disrespect that
he had given Lewis. Here was a staff sergeant, with probably more years of
experience that he, Brown, had even lived for. He wondered about the
ingredients of the hydrostatic gel that was to be injected into him. With a
shudder, a suspicion that it may have life-prolonging and maintaining
properties came to him. Sergeant Lewis was probably many more years older
than him in maturity, but his body certainly did not look the worse for
wear and tear.

He checked his shoulder again. With surprise, he noticed that the swelling
had gone down, and had been replaced by a very faint upside-down "V" with a
blue tinge, signifying the colour of the squad. Lewis' yellow insignia
simply meant that he was the squad leader. Brown composed his thoughts
amidst the loud yells and whimpering of pain. Five minutes later, the
female officer stood her full height, massaging her calves on the way
up. The whole room was filled by the sound of pained breathing and faint
"Uh..."s of pain, as the privates struggled to take away the pain. He
rejoiced that he had chosen the shoulder for his rank to be imbued, for
privates that had chosen the chest were bent over with agony, clutching
their breasts, while moaning in pain.  "To your feet, squad!" Lewis' voiced
barked with a ferocity that Brown had not heard before. He got to his feet,
eager to leave the freezing room. He turned and faced Lewis, who was
already standing by another metal door, leading presumably to a personnel
carrier that would eventually transport them to their home base. A few
moans were heard as the privates got into line behind him. Lewis pressed a
button which caused the doors to hiss open, and motioned for the higher
ranked personnel to exit the room. After a few seconds of clattering feet
as the higher ranked marines filed out of the room, unusually silent for
thirteen-year old boys, Lewis beckoned to Brown and Brown followed the
staff sergeant into the corridor.

Brown could feel the hot torso of the brown haired boy from before pressing
onto his back, the chest and the abdomen slightly bulging out and making
their presence known. He guessed that the boy had chosen his chest for the
rank implant. He pitied his squad mate, and allowed the boy to lean against
him all the way out into the hot, thirty-six degree Nevada desert. He
concentrated on the half-developed back of the sergeant, paying attention
to the elaborate pattern of the spine as he marched behind him. An armoured
personnel carrier and a Hum-vee with dual-mounted chain-guns were throbbing
in the background. The higher-ranked members of the squad were already
seated in the Hum-vee, and were sweating in the heat.

Brown's shoulder prickled. His implant was adjusting to the sudden change
of temperature. While it did not hurt in the least, it caused a strange
pleasant sensation to his shoulder, as if someone were gently caressing
it. The private behind him gave a small groan of relief, and leant even
more onto his back, transferring sweat to his body. Lewis motioned to the
APC, and Brown patted the private on the shoulder before walking briskly to
the transport, boy-soldiers in tow.

In a matter of moments, the APC was filled with the sweat and the smell of
mid-pubescent boys. The engine of the machine thrummed softly in the
background for a few seconds, and then Lewis stepped in, and took a seat at
the head of the vehicle.

"Right, then. We're heading off to Germany, where our regiment's
headquarters are. You shall receive the hydrostatic augmentation at our
home base. This gel..." he depressed a few buttons on the contraption
attached to his utility belt, sending a dribble of green fluid out of his
navel, which he duly collected, "enhances your natural resistance to
diseases."

He took Brown's hand and applied some gel to it. Brown's immediate thought
was that the gel seemed extra light; as though it was not there at all. He
lifted it to his face, and smelt it. The familiar aroma he smelt when he
was around Lewis immediately made its presence known in his mind, along
with a faint synthetic smell. He put some gel onto the dark haired private
beside him, who immediately did the same thing, sniffing it and applying it
onto the palm of a flushed-bodied blonde.

"It also heightens your threshold to pain, and acts as a substitute to the
heavy Kevlar body armour that's practically useless for the ammunition that
the enemy is using." Lewis continued. Brown wondered exactly what enemy
they were going to be fighting. He knew nought of the invisible war that
was being waged between the Coalition and the Liberal Freedom Fighters,
terrorists that threatened to overcome the world with toxic gas and pain
submission.

"This additional implant will have to be earned, when the Coalition sees
you as fit enough, and when you have developed enough. We don't want kids
on our team, do we?" he asked rhetorically. "It will be a three hour long
ride to the airfield, and another four hour flight in an A-10 Thunderbolt
to Munich International Airport. The use of such a heavily armoured
transport is necessary because of the flak emplacements of the enemy in the
Atlantic Ocean. Enjoy the ride, comrades." He looked pleased at success of
the use of the Russian synonym.

At that point, he felt a sudden pressure on his right shoulder, and
realised that the dark-haired boy was once again looking for an outlet for
the discomfort in his chest, without obviously letting Brown know his
intentions. The boy was subtly placing his chest in such a way that it
looked like occasional bump caused by the APC would cause his chest to
press onto Brown's shoulder.

Brown grinned, and reached over to pat the private's shoulder again. He
glanced at the nameplate beside the private's belt. Fritz Fuchs, he
read. This person had to be of German or European descent. The private had
high cheekbones, along with stunning green eyes.

"Fritz, it's alright. You can lean on me if you want to. I don't mind." He
told the shocked private. He turned his body to face Lewis, intending to
ask him more questions.

"Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me. I haven't had sleep
for over a day, and my chest hurts like crazy." Fuchs replied gratefully,
with an American accent and proceeded to rest his sweaty, tired torso on
Brown's back. Brown was surprised at the lack of foreignism in his speech,
but decided to give Fuchs a break. Fuchs gave a sigh of relief, "Ohhh..."
and snaked his arms around Brown's shirtless body, gripping it by the
kidneys. Brown enjoyed the sensation of another body against his, and
attempted to make eye contact with Lewis, who was apparently reading some
information off his eyepiece.

Eventually Lewis finished, and faced him.

"Looks like you've got yourself a new friend there, private." Lewis
commented.

"Naawww, I think he's just tired. He shouldn't have chosen the rank to be
implanted on his chest."

"Really? And how would you know?"  Brown blushed.

"I used you for an example."

"Oh." Came the reply. Brown could feel Fritz' soft, shallow breaths on his
shoulder, along with the expansion of the chest and abdomen of the private
behind him, and assumed that he had fallen asleep. The grip on his kidneys
was not as tight.

"Sir?" he said softly.

"Just call me Cayden, private... I mean, Michael." Lewis stuttered. "We're
partners now, mate, and I'd be knackered if I were to keep calling you
private for the whole of our assigned time together."

"Okay... Cayden, how will we get the hydrostatic gel into us?"

Lewis chuckled.

"Didn't you see me outside that room just now? It's the same thing, only
that the machine will inject a load more, and it'll hurt a lot more than
that."

With a chill, Brown remembered the agony that Lewis had suffered, and
quailed to think of the pain that he would have to endure in less than a
day.

"Your tits and your belly button are going to be much more sensitive after
that." Lewis continued. "It will hurt for a while, but only until your body
gets used to the foreign substance. After that, you'll feel much
more... excited, when these things are touched." He reached over and
stroked Brown's nipples, lightly pinching them in the middle, causing Brown
to swoon slightly and arch his back toward Lewis, moaning softly with
ecstasy. The other privates in the APC were staring at both of them, Brown
with his eyes squeezed shut in that moment of ecstasy, with another boy
latched onto him and Lewis, with an amazingly stern and straight face,
hands on Brown's torso. They began chattering after a few seconds, breaking
the ice.

"So why does the Coalition recruit people like us for soldiers? Wouldn't
adults be better suited to do the job?" Brown inquired.

"Well, it takes much less effort and money to train younger people,
especially adolescents, in anything. I suppose someone took that idea and
transformed it into warfare." Lewis shrugged. "Can't say I blame him,
though. War statistics have shown that we have an increased efficiency of
about twenty-three percent in the battlefield. Guess the theory works."

"How old are you, Michael?" Lewis asked.

"I'm thirteen. Just turned last month." Brown replied.

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I was just wondering whether you would like to stay like this for many
years to come." Lewis admitted. "You see, the hydrostatic gel prolongs your
life, and in doing so, sort of freezes your body in a
static... err... position, I guess. You'll remain like this for a long
time. But of course, you'll feel much younger and suppler than most
adults." He rambled on.

"Oh right..." Brown struggled to comprehend the fact that his features
would not change for a long time. "How long have you been in the
coalition?" he asked Lewis.

"About five years." Was the reply. Brown gasped. Lewis had been alive much
longer than he did, but did not look much older than him in years. He kept
the comment to himself, however.

"Is there a certain criteria for being a soldier of the Coalition?" he
asked.

"Sure there is. Why else did you think you were drafted in the first
place?" The answer shocked Brown.

"Umm..." he struggled to recall exactly how and why he had been enlisted.

"All of you have been enlisted because of three factors; your physical
appearance, durability, and finally, your superior intelligence." Lewis
answered his own question. "The coalition has been keeping an eye out for
all of you ever since you were born, as they did with me."

Brown was about to interrupt, with the notion of denying his intelligence
to the point that Lewis had described. He was the average person in his
classroom, never shining, never fading as well. He did not stand out at
all, or so he thought. Lewis cut him off.

"Not THAT type of intelligence. What I'm talking about is the ability to
adapt to circumstances, and use things to your own benefit. Now, I don't
know when and where you were in a spot of trouble throughout your life, but
something must have happened in order for the Coalition to take an interest
in you." With a jolt, Brown recalled the time when he had skived
Mathematics class by hiding in the boys' toilet. He spotted a duty officer
approaching from one of the windows, and fell into a state of panic. He had
not a hall pass, so he was due in for some trouble. What he had done was to
simply stand behind the door as the officer opened it, and when the officer
stepped further in the toilet, sneak past him, and pretend as though he was
merely looking into the toilet. The duty officer glared at him, and told
him to clear off, which he did, gratefully.

He smiled, as Fuchs let out a little sigh onto the back of his ear, and
shifted slightly, allowing Brown to feel more of the bumps and humps of his
teenage torso as he wriggled into a more comfortable position. Lewis
grinned.

"What's your friend's name?" Brown admired the way Lewis pronounced "What",
making it "Wot", in the orthodox British style.

"Oh, I don't even know him. His name's Fritz." Brown replied.

"It's nice to see that you're helping out your squad mates. Most of you
here aren't aware of the fact that we're going to be together for quite a
long time, unless one of us is unfortunately killed in action, or if I'm
promoted." He joked. "So it's prudent that you get to know each other as
well as possible. It's essential, if you hope to survive in the
battlefield. There will be an icebreaking session when we get to our
location, before you get the gel injected into you and your combat systems
connected."

The mention of the gel again brought chills up Brown's spine. He hated
pain, but he knew that he was going to feel much more of it in the coming
day. Lewis noticed his white face, and patted him in the middle of the
chest, making a hollow thumping noise.

"Don't worry, it will only be for a few days, that the pain will last." He
paused, savouring the look of horror on Brown's face.

"Only joking. It will hurt for a few minutes, and ache for the next
week. Your entire front, I mean." He stroked Brown's chest and
stomach. "But don't worry, Michael. I found out how to alleviate the pain
by my own squad mate some time ago. Don't ask me now, I'll show it to you."

Brown nodded, and tried to calm the raging emotions in his pubescent
body. He began to feel slightly drowsy and instinctively glanced at his
right hand, which usually had his watch strapped on, but noticed with
dismay that everything had been stripped off him before he came to the
recruitment office. The sergeant noticed the gesture, and glanced at the
time in his blue heads-up-display.

"4.06 pm, private. We have two and a quarter hours to go. Feel free to take
a rest." He motioned to the rest of the boys, who had fallen into various
states of semi and unconsciousness. Two boys were sitting up straight,
nodding their heads with sleepiness, and blonde boy with the flushed face
had rested his face on the adjacent private's shoulders. The private, who
had extremely pale blonde hair, to the point where Brown had thought it
white initially, had made room to accommodate the heavy head of the
red-bodied private, slumping down slightly in his seat, and allowing the
head to rest on his left breast instead of the shoulder, which had the rank
implanted on.

Brown slowly eased himself into a lying position, his back on the long
leather seat of the APC, but feet still on the ground. He had to twist his
body sideways, in order for him to lie totally on his back. He supported
Fuchs with a hand, while he corrected himself, and slowly eased Fuchs' head
onto his abdomen. Fuchs had not awakened in the least, but rather let out a
little grunt, as he snuggled his face onto Brown's soft abdomen, making him
chuckle as the dark brown hair tickled his navel. Lewis seemed to be in a
state of semi-consciousness, as he sleepily rested his chin on his right
hand, and closed his eyes.

Private Brown then fell asleep, exhausted with the new information he had
received, and the journey that he had just undertaken.