CPT Obmeyer: Ch. 2
Imported from SF2 with no description.
HEY YOU
knock knock knock
...
"Enter."
You open the door to Lotte's compartment, and find her sitting in her chair as if nothing intensely sexual happened within the last half hour.
All traces of your...mess appear to have been scrubbed clean, and a fresh pot of tea has replaced the previous, room temperature one.
CPT Obmeyer's posture is rigid as ever, even now that she's foregone her uniform for a pair of black sweatpants, a dark gray tank top, and a hair tie.
"Husband," she says, not looking up from her book.
"CPT-," you start to respond before correcting yourself, "-Lotte."
Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing. "Your clothes fit, it seems." She says, closing her book and laying it on the table.
"That being said, I would like to know why you aren't wearing your underwear."
You bite your lip, and look down at your knees.
CPT Obmeyer's duffel bag had everything you needed, within reason. Toothbrush, toothpaste, shower gel, "hygienic razor..."
The clothes fit you well, perfectly really, but they're also very...loud.
For one, everything has "Army Husband" written on it at least once. Sweatshirt, undershirt, sweatpants, even the socks.
The underwear however was army-issue, and it doesn't take a tailor to realize they weren't designed with boys in mind.
Lotte's face wrinkles when you tell her this.
"Is that so?" She questions, visibly irritated. "Your skivvies had to be specially ordered, and those pants were supposed to be black."
She lights a fresh cigarette and takes an angry drag. "This hue is unacceptable."
You reflexively quirk your head at her. Your new wife sighs.
"I have to explain it then..." she murmurs irritably. Leaning forward, CPT Obmeyer bores a hole through your eyes with the intensity of her stare.
"Gray sweatpants have a reputation in this army that will attract unwanted attention to what's mine, and mine alone."
You look down. What in blazes is that supposed to--?
Oh. You see it.
Or, the outline of it.
Lotte leans back and crosses her arms with a frown. "Given that these clothes are to be your regular uniform, I suspect a certain someone made deliberate alterations to my requisition form. Typical..."
She sighs angrily, and stands from her seat. Again the captain produces something new from her briefcase. "This next matter, however, I handled personally. You will close your eyes."
You almost ask why, but immediately think better of it.
Something firm and cold is wrapped around your neck. You are sternly tugged forward, and hear the rattling of metal on metal.
"Open." Lotte commands.
You see her standing over you, wearing that subdued, confident little smile of hers and thumbing a black corded leash in her hand.
You immediately touch your throat.
Hard leather.
Oh fuck, she's collared you.
"Specialty cleaning only. This collar is symbolic of your submission to myself and The State; Attempting to remove it without express permission is a deliberate act of rebellion, and will be dealt with severely."
You're interrupted from whatever extremely ill advised thing you were about to say by three knocks on the door.
"Enter."
SSGT Beckett, clad in the same dark clothes as your wife, pokes her head in.
"And there are our newlyweds! Settling in alright?" She asks cheerfully, her bright smile accentuating a frankly adorable set of rabbit teeth. "I was just thinking now would be a ~delightful~ time for some evening chow! Would you care to join me?"
Your wife places a self assured hand on her hip, cigarette leaving a smoke trail in its wake. "Adequately, and yes. Just allow me a moment." She says as she reaches for something above your head.
"Ahh, CPT, if I may--"
"I am aware of the hue, Beckett."
A moment later, your wife and her subordinate exit to find some food.
You stand to follow them out only to gag, fall backwards, and land back in your seat.
Startled, you look up.
You are Pavel Koslov
You are 19 years old
An Aquarius
A high school graduate, in a town where a handful of girls graduate
A high value, Class A, former Assignment Candidate
An expert tractor driver
Mama's Special Little Man
And currently tied to a luggage rack.
"Well, shit. That's a tone-setter."
The carriage door opens and closes unexpectedly, and you scramble to put the leash where Obmeyer left it.
Your butt hits the seat just quick enough to look inconspicuous when your wife's eyes meet yours. In her hands is a small tray containing a sandwich, a glass of water, and a bag of chips.
"Husband," she says with a stern frown and unamused gaze.
"Wife," you say innocently.
"Lotte," she retorts. "This is the second time I've corrected you. The third time will result in appropriate discipline." She says darkly.
You glance at the book she was reading earlier, and it does not inspire confidence in gracious treatment.
The Official Pre-Assignment Handbook
Given the State's penchant for innocuous ideas and disturbing execution, you suspect what she has in mind for strike three isn't a respectful conversation.
Your face pales, and you bow your head. "U-understood." You reply.
"Good."
You ask for permission to eat, and are granted it. The sandwich is turkey and Swiss, and surprisingly fresh considering what you've heard about Army rations. The water is...water, and the chips are--
Your musing stops when you get a look at the label. There's a winking anthro collie on the bag wearing a red bandana.
"Puppy Chow!" You exclaim. "God, these are the best!"
Your wife clears her throat, and you suddenly become aware of how loud that was. Your face warms up, and you have difficulty looking at her past the quirked eyebrow.
"They're next to impossible to get outside Bismarck City," you say, much more subdued, "but Mama would always bring back boxes of them when the harvest was finally sold."
"I'm sorry..." You murmur.
Obmeyer turns away and stares out the window. "For?"
You'd think she was being sarcastic if she wasn't so dead serious all the time.
"Nevermind..."
Two hours later and this train is still stuck in a blizzard.
The table between you folds up.
The chairs on either side of the compartment fold down and connect.
Throw a mattress on top, and you've got a bed that better fits 1 and a half than 2.
The enlisted who arrived to rearrange the compartment offered to set up a second hanging cot for you. Obmeyer dismissed her with thinly veiled contempt.
"I will remind you, Corporal, that the marital life of another woman is between her and her husband. I will decide where he bunks."
For CPT Obmeyer even sleeping was a military affair. Preparations began at 2030 when you were instructed in the appropriate way to hold her at night.
At 2058 you were retied to the luggage rack. You were in bed with her at exactly 2059 and the lights went out a microsecond before 21:00.
She was asleep 10 minutes later, and out of bed getting dressed at exactly 0600.
You, meanwhile, rolled out of bed and hit the floor with an audible thud.
"Husband," she says, buttoning her shirt, "quit wasting time and attend me."
"I'm sorry?" You ask.
She leers at you as if you were a particularly slow child eating glue.
"My coat and my cap," she states, pointing to a heavy wooden coat hanger. You help her get the former on and hold the latter patiently while she adjusts the rest of her uniform.
"Do you see this?" She asks, holding out some kind of string with hooks. "In the future you will learn to blouse my boots in the morning. You are excused for today."
Whatever she did next with those bands they gave her pants the appearance of being tucked handsomely into her boots.
Frankly? Quite the snazzy look.
At 0612 the train suddenly, finally, begins to move again. You were beginning to fret you might be stuck in a confined space with her for another whole day.
CPT Obmeyer flips her collar up and adjusts her gloves in an almost mechanical fashion. "Amateurs. All that investment in die polytechnik and this is the best they can give us."
She covers her hair with a white head-wrapping, almost like a ski mask, and takes her cap from you at precisely 0630. "Things will be different when I come into power. Our State deserves better than what we give it." She says, and storms out the door without another word.
To your great surprise, SSGT Beckett pokes her head in a moment later.
She's wearing her oversized helmet once again and carrying a tray full of breakfast food.
"Good morning, Pavel. I had a feeling the CPT might be a little -ah- rushed this morning, so I got you something." She says, trying to sound upbeat. "How was last night? Did you sleep any?"
"Alright," you lie, rubbing the sand from your eyes. "What about you?"
"Me? Oh, I sleep like a rock most nights. Easy to do when you grow up sharing a room with 11 siblings. Besides," she says, puffing out her chest proudly. "I have my own quarters."
"Really?" You ask, demolishing a piece of toast. "You have your own room?"
"...it's more of a closet," she admits. "But it's mine, and I worked very hard for it! It was the CPT's idea."
You're only half listening at this point. You haven't eaten well since your initial arrest (prison food is mostly moldy bread and mean looks), and your body is screaming for as much protein as it can get.
You do take notice however when a small, gentle hand comes to rest on your shoulder.
"Do you remember what I said earlier, about things getting hard for a while before they get better?" She says quietly. "Today is going to be very difficult. I can help you, if you'll let me."
A large piece of ham and cheese omelet disappears down your throat. Though it takes a moment to process, you put your fork down and give the little brown bunny your full attention.
"Yes ma'am." You say, bowing your head.
A gentle set of hands lifts your face, and Beckett removes her helmet.
She meets your gaze with a smile and big, beautiful brown eyes before booping you on the nose.
"Lotte was really impressed with you last night after the interview, but she's going to be under a lot of pressure today." She begins. "You're both going to attract a lot of attention, and the CPT doesn't like that at all. Make sure the attention is on you for the right reasons; You need to impress everyone with your army husband's bearing."
Beckett straightens her back and stands as tall as a 5'3" rabbit like her can.
"People are going to be making loud comments about you, but don't curl up! If they see you cringing you're just gonna be more fun to pick on, and it'll look like the CPT can't inspire confidence in her male. Don't respond if anyone talks to you, even if they're friendly. When Lotte has the leash, it means she speaks for you."
She reaches out to gently center your collar. You see in the mirror two identification tags, obviously shaped like dogtags, and a little bell that jingles when you move.
"She's going to take you to the Inspector's Office to register you. That means meeting Inspector Goll. She's, ahh..."
Beckett's voice trails off, and she taps her fingers together nervously.
"Inspector Goll is very unlike the CPT. Listen carefully when I tell you this next part..."
She places her hands firmly back on your shoulders, and her tone darkens.
"Never, EVER give that woman power over you, and NEVER let yourself be alone in a room with her."
You swallow hard. "Is she dangerous?"
Beckett grimaces and shakes her head.
"Worse...she's disarming."
The train shudders again, and the little rabbit almost falls over. You help her gently back to her feet, a small blush hiding on the edge of your perception.
As if on cue, the carriage door opens and a shouting voice storms into earshot.
SSGT Beckett turns on her heels to greet her commanding officer with a salute just as the compartment door opens.
"HUSBAND!" Obmeyer shouts, wiping snow off her shoulder as she speaks. "We are due to arrive at..."
Lotte pauses and scrunches her nose in consternation when she sees Beckett.
"Staff sergeant."
"Forgive the intrusion ma'am," Beckett says, "I was aware of your upcoming meeting with the junior staff and took the liberty of feeding The Candidate."
Your wife enters the room and shuts the door behind her, a cigarette hanging from her hand.
"...unnecessary. His daily rations are my responsibility alone." She says.
"It was, however, kind. Thank you, SSGT."
"Of course CPT," Beckett says, slipping into a relaxed posture. "Did I hear we're approaching Ft. Douglas, Ma'am?"
"Indeed. Estimated time of arrival is 1044. There's been an additional delay due to frost on the tracks. You will ensure your kit is properly packed, then procure tea for myself and the enlisted."
"An expensive indulgence for the girls, ma'am. I'll need to procure some help for that second task."
"See it done, SSGT."
Beckett salutes again, gathers the empty food tray, and is out the door without another word.
CPT Obmeyer reaches into her greatcoat and produces something from her pocket.
"Take."
An anthro collie in a red bandana winks at you from the cover of a bag of chips.
"Attention all, we are due to arrive in 30 minutes. All officers are cleared for disembarkation. All recruits are instructed to remain seated and prepare their kits for inspection by senior NCOs."
A roar of shouts and angry curses from the other cars can be heard even in your isolated little corner.
Lotte growls. "Undisciplined."
Precisely 20 minutes before arrival she stands up, finishes her tea, and unties you.
"Up."
It's a good 10 minutes before any of CPT Obmeyer's sister officers start meeting you at the exit.
When they come though, they come in groups, and in a surprising variety of sizes and colors.
You figured CPT Obmeyer was some kind of oddity, but among the officers' ranks you spot two varieties of hyena, three dogs, a deer, a white hare, a closely sheared sheep in a baggy uniform, and a few others towards the back.
There ARE predators though. All of them are taller than you or your wife, and some have to bend their necks just to squeeze into the exit-way.
To your dread, conversation dies down when everyone finally take notice of you. The weight of more than a dozen sets of eyes falls heavily on your shoulders, and you have to resist the urge to curl up.
You try to do as Beckett recommended and straighten your back. Lotte says nothing and leaves her eyes fixed squarely on the door. Everything is quiet for a solid minute before someone speaks.
"Oh thank God, it's finally gray sweatpants season!"
The whole carriage bursts into enthusiastic if restrained laughter.
Your wife spins around, ready to chew out the first junior officer she finds, only to apparently think better of it.
You feel your cheeks begin to burn, but curiosity wins out over your better judgment and you turn to look back.
The comedian, it would seem, is a maned wolf wearing the golden oak leaf of a major.
"Looks girthy!" Someone else comments, and the whole place breaks out in renewed laughter.
The major half-heartedly tries to quiet the crowd while drying her eyes. "C'mon ladies, hehe, calm down. Once was enough, Leave the poor guy his dignity."
"I'll take his dignity if you don't want it ma'am!"
"Mind if I hold the leash for a bit, Cap? I'll be gentle."
Obmeyer says nothing and turns brusquely back towards the door. You do the same, and immediately regret it when a huge presence approaches from behind to place a heavy set of hands on your shoulders.
"You doin' alright cutie?~" croons an absolutely massive hyena. Her breath feels hot enough to singe the hairs on your neck, and when she speaks into your ear it sends an uncomfortably exciting sensation through your body.
"These girls bein' mean to you?~" She asks with faux concern, heavily muscled hands moving from your shoulders to your sides as she presses her body against you.
Knowing what you know about spotted hyenas, you do your best to ignore what she's pushing against your lower back.
Trying to find some distraction, you look around and happen to spot Lotte's reflection in the window.
To a casual observer, it would seem that your wife is staring disinterestedly out the door.
You, however, can read her just well enough to see she's on the edge of exploding.
"Is all that for me?~" The hyena whispers.
"CPT WASHINGTON!" Lotte shouts, silencing the whole room. "You will keep your hands OFF the assignment, or you will be reported to the Office of The Inspectorate for immediate discipline!"
The room quiets down again, and the hyena makes an indignant huff before standing up and letting go of you.
"Easy Cap, just helpin' him settle in." She says, hands raised in mock surrender. “Seemed a little skittish is all."
"Do it WITHOUT groping him next time."
The train finally lurches to a complete halt and the exit door opens. Blinding white light reflecting off fresh snow makes you cover your eyes, and you stumble back into the hyena.
Lotte gives your leash a tug, and moves to leave.
CPT Washington gropes your ass, and you leap out after your new wife.