Page 6 of Knot Their Soldier: Part One
Reclining in my sun-bleached deck chair, I cross legs at the ankles, wrap my fingers around a cool glass of fruity iced tea, and sip from the rainbow twirly straw.
“Get back in line, maggot!” a deep, booming voice echoes from the training fields, bouncing off the stark gray concrete buildings and the high perimeter walls.
“Ooh, ‘maggot’ is a good one. Add it to the list,” I say, and tap Alibeth Flick on the shoulder, gesturing at the spiral-bound notebook beside her. We call her Flicker and it suits her twitchy personality perfectly.
The young Omega sits up from sunbathing on her beach towel and hastily scrawls ‘maggot’ at the bottom of our growing list of insults the drill instructors shout at the new recruits.
Living in The Omega Division of the military doesn’t allow for much entertainment, so we have to make our own. The ‘Grand List of Deplorable Name Calling’is the latest game we’re playing. Last week it was ranking the finest ass in the Beta ranks… Beta Canto won by a firm-cheeked mile.
“My favorite is still cockwomble,” says my best friend Dazz sitting across from me, binoculars pressed to his eyes and a silly grin stretched across his face as he watches the Alpha training session. “That drill instructor was a rut-damned poet.”
Ember scoffs from her deckchair, tipping her sunglasses down her aquiline nose to look at Dazz over the lenses. “I bet you would’velovedhim to call you his little cockwomble.”
“He could call me whatever he liked. Did you see how jacked he was?” He develops a far off look and sighs dramatically.
“No. I didn’t. You hogged the binoculars the whole time he was in view,” Ember intones.
It wasn’t Dazz that hogged the binoculars, but me. That particular Alpha’s voice commanded my undivided attention.
Omegas are sexual beings. We’re almost always horny, but that Alpha made me ruin my best pair of underwear effortlessly. He continues to star in my wank sessions.
He’s the walking definition of a Prime Alpha. His distant figure, pacing in front of the intimidated recruits, convinced me that the universe had put extra effort into creating a blueprint of the pinnacle of masculinity. He’s like a sculpture carved from every Omega’s rawest, most primitive desires. Even throughscratched magnified lenses, I can tell his body is a canvas of strength and power. His shoulders are broad like he could carry the weight of the world, and his chest ripples with muscles that hint at years of combat experience. I can’t help but imagine my fingers tracing the lines of his defined abs, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin.
And those arms. Oh, those arms. The day he rolled up his sleeves, I swear I nearly choked on my drool. When he flexed, I could see the sinewy cords beneath his tanned skin, and I imagine how safe I’d feel if he held me close.
It’s the fantasizing of a lonely, unmated Omega. It feels safe to dream about him because he’s entirely unattainable. So, whenever he makes an appearance, I fight Dazz for the binoculars like a wildcat. Though, we haven’t seen him in months.
“Speaking of hogging the binoculars,” Flicker says in her sweet melodious voice, before lunging at Dazz to wrestling them from his hands. Her innocent appearance is deceptive. She’s like a feral kitten – cute, tiny, and vicious.
Flicker presses the binoculars to her eyes, and a silly grin stretches across her face. “I love it when they all squat in unison. They’re all so handsome!” Her squeal of excitement sounds like an air raid, her high-pitched voice causing the residents of the K9 Division next door to howl in alarm.
Dazz grins wickedly. “It’s a buffet of booty. Up, down. Up, down. Squeeze those cheeks, boys.”
Ember scoffs from her deckchair. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”
Flicker’s enthusiasm wavers, and she passes the binoculars back to Dazz.
Dazz scowls at Ember. “Don’t listen to her, Flicker. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating the magnificent glory of theAlpha physique. There’s a lot to be appreciated,” he says before unceremoniously shoving the binoculars into my hands.
Our dormitory is on the opposite side of the base, in the heart of The Omega Division’s compound. Unlike Alphas, who train extensively to lead our military forces in the defense of Fathim’s borders, we have no purpose.
The Omega Division only exists because a politician made good on an election promise to provide sanctuary for vulnerable Omegas. Sure, we ‘earn our keep’ through free labor, but mostly we’re a talking point wheeled out when election time rolls around. They point at us and say, “Look at those poor Omegas. Aren’t we doing a swell job keeping them safe?”
I’ve been here for eleven years. Eleven long years living on a boring military base with no prospects for the future, clocking in to work in one of the bases’ many warehouses.
I shouldn’t complain; at least here I’m protected and provided for. I have friends, hobbies, a job, and I’ve made my dorm into a comfortable nest.
But can you blame a girl for wanting to ogle some forbidden muscle every once in a while?
Can you blame me for dreaming of more?
Just last year, Dazz and I uncovered that at the right time of day, in this exact spot on the rooftop of our dormitory, we can see Alphas exercising in the drill yard. The angle is small, and the sun’s glare is bright, but for us, it’s a glimpse into what could have been. A slice of forbidden fruit to liven up our monotonous lifestyle.
It took a few months, but we stole, bartered, and borrowed enough items to create the world’s worst beach resort: deckchairs held together with duct tape, and a beach umbrella half eaten by moths.
I scrunch my toes in the musty old beach towel laid out on the hot, flat roof, and grin. This place brings me supreme pleasure.
While adjusting the dial on top of the binoculars, I direct my focus towards a tall, broad-shouldered Alpha that resembles a sculpture made of stone. I can’t make out any facial features, yet I can see how his muscles gleam with sweat. I admire the way he moves with a predatory prowl, commanding the other Alphas with firm orders.
