Cadet 3 Read Online Free

brother, who was
crazy with jealousy), although since both of them had learned since
childhood that it was uncouth to display their feelings, it was not
easy to tell.
    Boot camp was no problem, and I found
adjusting to Army life was pretty easy. The trouble was, it was too easy. There was nothing in it to really challenge me, and
practically no room for advancement after I made PFC six months
after graduating from Basic. The work was routine and
uninteresting, and after a year sitting at a desk poking a keyboard
to enter personnel records in the computer system, I began to
wonder if I had made the right decision after all. Just as I was
coming to the conclusion that I had been an idiot to throw away
four years of my life to learn how to be a data-entry clerk, I was
called into my Company Commander’s office and informed that I had
been selected, along with only 29 other women from the entire Army,
to be part of the first class of cadets at the new National Women’s
Military Academy at High Point in northeastern Pennsylvania. I was
so happy that I committed a gross breach of military discipline and
planted a big, wet kiss on Captain Peters’ cheek after he told me
the news. (I have to admit, I was glad to have an excuse to kiss
him. Carl Peters was a cutie.)
    You have probably heard a lot of rumors
about what went on inside the walls of the NWMA. The Army has not
officially admitted anything to this day, even after these many
years later. They still claim it’s “classified”. Well, as a General
of the Army (that’s a five-star General, in case you’re not up on
Army ranks) and former Chief of the General Staff, I say fuck that,
I’m un-classifying it right here and now. My comrades who went
through that place deserve to have the story of what the Army did
to them made public at last.
    High Point was a military academy with a
difference. The Army had selected its first thirty women for the
qualities of beauty and military aptitude to fill the initial class
of female cadets. We had to be smart, and tough enough to become
competent, efficient aides for high-ranking officers, and we had to
be pretty, obedient and sexually versatile to keep the senior
officers to whom they would be assigned happy. In other words, we
were supposed to be combination staff officers and high-priced
whores.
    The Academy was the pet project of the Chief
of the General Staff, General Bernard Cafferson. We found out later
that the National Women’s Military Academy as it was finally
established was the result of a compromise after a long battle:
Cafferson had wanted to allow us to enter West Point, Annapolis and
Colorado Springs, and compete with the boys on even terms, but he
could not get enough support for this plan from the rest of the
General Staff, which had opposed allowing women into the Armed
Services in the first place. The promise of “personal” (i.e.
sexual) services for members of the General Staff was the sweetener
he used to get the backing he needed to launch the NWMA.
    The first group of thirty cadets spent
eighteen months at High Point before we graduated, not much older,
but a very much wiser. The physical training was difficult, but far
from impossible, and by the time I graduated, I was in the best
shape of my life. The academic requirements were hard too, as they
tried to cram 4 years’ worth of material into a year and a half
course. It was a challenge, which was what I had been looking for
all along, I suppose. But the other part of it, the sexual
“training”, was what made High Point hell on Earth for us, the
thirty young women (girls, really; most of us were still in our
teens), trapped there.
    Our uniforms were made of latex, and were
intentionally designed to be skin-tight so that we could not fit
underwear beneath (not that they issued us any underwear), and to
display every bump and crevice of our bodies. They showed off our
nipples, our vulvas, our assholes, everything. Nor were the
demeaning uniforms the