Logan's chest tightened as the camp gates loomed in front of him, a mix of anxiety, excitement, and "holy crap what have I gotten myself into?" buzzing through his mind. He had signed what he thought was a routine form one small checkbox, one name scribbled wrong and now… here he was: the only male recruit in an all-female military camp. How does one survive this without spontaneously combusting?
The moment he stepped inside, the air smelled faintly of metal, sweat, and something floral he assumed it was the camp, not him… yet. And then she appeared.
The top boss of the camp, Commander Vexley, stood perfectly erect, a mix of severe discipline and lethal sexy energy radiating off her like heatwaves. Her uniform was impeccable almost intimidating yet somehow her curves and the way her jacket clung made Logan's brain glitch entirely. She looked down at him with piercing eyes that seemed to see every flaw, every nervous tic, every stray thought about boobs or ass he had.
"Ah, you must be… the mistake," she said, voice sharp but smooth, like a whip wrapped in velvet. Logan blinked, unable to form words. She tilted her head, eyebrow raised. "Yes, that's right. You. The only male in my camp. Do not I repeat do not touch or even look at my cadets inappropriately. Understood?"
Logan swallowed hard. Understood? More like survive without wetting myself in front of seven military goddesses? He managed a shaky nod. "Y-Yes, Commander Vexley."
She gave a sharp nod and added, almost as a joke but Logan was too flustered to tell "If you even think about it, I will personally make you run laps until you cry." Her smirk was both deadly and ridiculous. Logan's inner monologue: Oh god… she's hot and terrifying… I'm doomed.
After the brief (and terrifying) welcome, Logan was sent to the camp clinic for a routine check-up some kind of induction test. The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and… strangely inviting. A female doctor appeared, clipboard in hand, wearing a white coat that did very little to hide her curves. Her chest was practically in Logan's line of sight the moment she leaned over him, and of course, his brain immediately short-circuited.
"Hello, Logan. I'll be taking care of your intake test today," she said, her tone professional, but the way she adjusted her coat, leaning just enough that her breasts brushed against his arm… well, Logan was not professional. His face heated, ears burning, and a small, pathetic squeak escaped him.
The doctor smiled knowingly, making a note on her clipboard while giving him a side glance. "Relax. It's just routine. I'll need to check your reflexes, heart, breathing… you know, the usual."
As she moved around him, adjusting equipment, Logan could feel every inch of her closeness the subtle sway of her hips, the warmth radiating from her body, the brush of her fingers against his arm as she tapped charts into her tablet. He tried tried to focus on breathing, but his brain was a messy jumble of panic and… other things.
"Now," she said, voice dipping slightly in pitch, "I'm going to need you to undress for the examination. Everything, please. Just… the exam." She gave him a professional nod, but Logan's brain immediately imagined a dozen horrifying scenarios of embarrassment, humiliation, and, honestly… arousal.
He swallowed hard, cheeks flushing violently. Undress. Right. Not die. Not faint. Not look like a total idiot. And oh god, she's close. Why is she so close?! His hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, trembling as the reality of the situation crashed down.
The doctor patiently waited, clipboard tucked under one arm, hand occasionally brushing his shoulder as she instructed him. Logan's mind was a chaotic storm of I shouldn't be thinking this… oh god I am… focus… wait, undress, undress, undress…
And there, frozen in the clinic, Logan hesitated, one trembling hand on his shirt, the other unsure where to place itself, his face hotter than the summer sun.
"Go ahead… undress. I need to start the examination."