Empyrean Iris Story Collection Vol. 3

Grey Out

12 Years Earlier

"GET UP YOU WORTHLESS FREAKS! MOVE , MOVE MOVE!"

Twenty feet hit the deck, men and women scrambling to pull on well-worn PT uniforms as MTI Kimball stood in the doorway, his face screwed up like he smelled something particularly ripe. All around him the young men and women, now sixteen in most cases, were well versed in getting a move on quickly and efficiently from a dead sleep.

All except for.....

One

Two lines of perfectly spaced men and women stood at attention faces forward unexpressive, looking perfectly ready for a mug shot or a photo taken at the DMV.

Again

All except for one.

Staff Sergeant Kimball clasped his hands behind his back walking very slowly up the line towards the last scrambling recruit, who, unlike his companions, had not made it into line fast enough. He took a deep breath screwing up his face in preparation for an insult that was yet to come. He hadn't seen these particular recruits in a while. He had been held back to meet their next class of trainees, but as their second year instructor had retired, he had been sent back to meet with the first class.

He was not surprised to see the recruit still struggling.

He WAS surprised to see the recruit had made it through his first year.

He stopped standing with feet planted at shoulder width before the young man's eyes watching as he struggled to pull on his navy blue shorts, but making no headway.

"Give up recruit, that operation seems beyond your capabilities." He said mildly, "Now stand up for Jupiter's sake."

The young man paused, and then stood, but as he stood, when Sgt Kimball expected him to stop, he just kept rising, and rising, and rising. By the time he was fully standing Sgt. Kimball was staring at the young man's chest rather than where he had expected his face to be. Slowly he tilted his head back and craned his neck to look up, into the grimacing and apologetic face of a young man that, Sgt. Kimball barely recognized.

Sometime in the past six months of his absence had risen well over six feet in height, lost ninety percent of the baby fat from his cheeks and chin, and put on enough muscle to give him a considerable chest measurement.

He did not know how to wear it, all awkward and tall, ducking like he thought he was going to run his head into something.

"Holy fuck recruit, did Willy Wonka send you to the taffy puller?"

Recruit Vir smiled before realizing he wasn't supposed to find than funny, grimacing instead. Sgt Kimball looked him over very slowly, noting from toe to head, the overly tight socks, the discarded shorts that, wouldn't have gotten on with a prayer and gods own blessing, the shirt that, had the boy raised his arms would have become a belly shirt, and finally the apologetic face, which at this point must have been so used to embarrassment, that he didn't even bother to flush red.

"Sweet Mother, get out of my sight, and to the requisitions office and get yourself a pair of pants that fit. Holy shit, I didn't know we had upgraded to extra jumbo sizes, go go go, get moving before I have to see another moment of your tighty whities."

It was the relief on the young man's face that struck him the most as he jogged out of the room in his too tight socks and in his underwear, not seeming to care who was going to see him on his way over. Sgt. Kimball almost forgot where he was for a moment, making a face, "What the fuck have they been feeding that kid human growth hormone?"