Today would be a day to explore the possibilities.<br/><br/>Hauptsturmführer-Doktor Gerlinde Baumann repeated that to herself, standing on the gravel path next to Exercise Yard D.  It kept the cold away better than her gray winter coat.  It kept her feet from fidgeting in their ink black boots.  It reminded her why she had to be here in the East.  And it had other uses.<br/><br/>It made the new ache between her legs seem right.<br/><br/>Gerlinde stood on the ground of the East and did not shiver and repeated that to herself in her head, and she watched the women of Barracks 7K through 7M wander like ghosts without a house to haunt.  And though the ache – the new ache – dangling between her legs tightened its wires and began to buzz, it almost seemed right to her.<br/><br/>It seemed other things, too, the more she watched.  Gerlinde put them out of her head, for now.  She watched and she reminded herself she was here to consider the possibilities.<br/><br/>The wireless speakers affixed to the plywood barracks played “Die Fahne Höhe.”<br/><br/>“Pretty little ponies, round and round they go.” Scharführer Jungst sung in a murmur to himself, watching the women and rubbing his hands.  “Ponies, ponies, in circles and rows.”<br/><br/>Gerlinde studied the women as well.  It was her duty.  Her authority was to select the best of them; the one with most possibilities.  That was the task assigned her by the high authority of the Fourth Reich and its Leader, as Captain Doctor of this Stalag.  Gerlinde had other duties once.<br/><br/>Those duties were for other places.  In the jasmine and maple lamppost light of Munich, she had been a surgeon.  When clouds of fire and steel had struck East, she had been a soldier.  In a ward as white and sterile as a Kleenex box, she had been a wounded veteran.<br/><br/>Now she was in the East: In a place of conquered Russia that the Reich had cleaned of everything; of trees and roads, even a name.<br/><br/>She was a doctor here.  A new kind of doctor.  And she had a new ache.  Jungst’s song summoned that ache to the new space between her legs: It felt like two wires, the kind coiled electric to lure in insects and end them with heat.  It felt like a clenching circlet.  It felt liquid and necessary and hot.<br/><br/>Gerlinde dropped a hand down to her black leather breeches and rubbed the place where they were getting tight.<br/><br/>The other hand put a cigarette to her mouth.  She leaned its length on the place where the cherub bow of her lips was marked with a thin string of a scar running from their rim down to the side of her chin.  She tilted her head forward.<br/><br/>Oberscharführer Holdt was ready with his trench lighter lit.  Gerlinde took a drag.  She glanced at him—a look of ice pack blue eyes below the russet wave of her hair.<br/><br/>It was a look he would take back to the barracks with him, Gerlinde figured.  He would take it back to his bunk and he would fix it in his mind like a scrape of cinema and when the lights dipped low enough that he could pretend at being anonymous, Holdt would stroke himself off to that look.<br/><br/>Gerlinde liked that idea.  In one of those other places—the places past, with different duties for a different woman than she was now—she might have minded it.  Not now.  Now she understood.  She more than sympathized.  She identified.<br/><br/>For now, Gerlinde thought to herself, she was not all that different from Holdt.  The ache reminded her of this: The two wires of it were plucked violin strings with this empathy.  The fluid thickening firmed that fact.  She and Holdt were quite similar now indeed.<br/><br/>“So, are we done with selection, Doctor?” Holdt asked.<br/><br/>Gerlinde leaned back and took a deep drag.  The smoke put a warm blanket on her lungs.  She held it in her chest.  It presented her large breasts to the four sergeants standing around her.  Those breasts had been a burden when she was in the field as a soldier; overly large for her size, requiring the sturdiest elastic to support their huge weight.  Now, Gerlinde rather liked them.  She liked showing them.<br/><br/>Now, she understood well what it did to men to see them.<br/><br/>Gerlinde exhaled.  The tobacco smoke tasted like Arabian spices and Byelorussian swamps.  It reminded her of home; of her father’s study—a den of dark colors and gold bound books, where controversy and pipe smoke were permanent residents.  She remembered well the debates she had with her father, over biology, the death of print, the price of gas, hair styles and politics.<br/><br/>Gerlinde shivered with the chill of the East and she remembered what her father had told her.  The senior doctor Baumann had told Gerlinde that it was just a matter of time before the West would have to invade and subdue the East, just a matter of destiny and nothing more to be discussed.  And she had protested then—had talked of the great international bodies that were the sinews of civil discourse between states; had declared the supremacy of the global market; had insisted that cultures were not so different after all.<br/><br/>And senior doctor Baumann had listened only long enough to refresh his pipe, and then had replied.  He had responded without censure and without sorrow and without the faintest hint of malice that she was wrong.  The West would always have to go East in conquest.  It was not out of aggression or of defense.  It was simple geopolitics.  It was as basic as biology, he explained:<br/><br/>One body could not be in close contact with another without having to invade.  To inhabit.  To inseminate.<br/><br/>Gerlinde pulled the cigarette from her mouth and pointed with it toward Exercise Yard D.<br/><br/>“That one.  The Russian.” Her tone was casual.  It always was.  Gerlinde had watched a man’s face run like wax in the hull of a burning tank and she had been begged for candy by children with no eyes.  Gerlinde understood that there were only a few things in this world to be excited about.  A simple duty like this was not one of them.  Not even when, like this command would, that someone’s life would be ended.  “The one with the soft, dark hair.  Bring her.”<br/><br/>The cigarette returned to her mouth for another drag.  Gerlinde’s dark lashes fluttered with the smoke stinging her blue eyes.  The song drifting from the speakers hit a chorus, trampling the Stalag in robust jackboots.<br/><br/>Her father had been right, Gerlinde thought to herself.  She understood this now.  Her time as a soldier in the East had given her an inkling of this—a little listen to the soundtrack of aggression that pervaded the contact between occupier and occupied.  But it was not until she was wounded and made a doctor at the Stalag that she truly understood: Not until the surgery.<br/><br/>Not until the new ache.  The new ache, and the new flesh that had installed it in her.<br/><br/>As Jungst and Karstens brought the selected girl—Tanya? Tatiyana? Gerlinde was not sure of the name, not that it mattered—forward, that flesh stirred in emphasis.  Seeing the girl did this, for several reasons:<br/><br/>She was a girl from the East; a conquered girl, taken by the West to be shaped by the will of the conqueror.  She was a lovely girl; storybook black hair, fresh winter complexion, a body that looked licked into shape.  She had been selected.<br/><br/>These reasons stirred Gerlinde’s new ache, and she had to drop a hand down to adjust what it did to her.  Her hand dipped below where the leather of her tunic hugged her tremendous breasts and the many glints of her medals.  Her fingers fit to the thigh of her breeches.<br/><br/>Gerlinde took hold of where that new ache gnashed its teeth: She took hold of her penis and her testicles.<br/><br/>As it did every time she touched her new flesh, it made Gerlinde think of the first time she had felt that addition to her body.  She had stroked the wide, lazy tube; the lax sack with its round eggs; the electrifying head.  Her fingers had trembled in nausea then.  Her body had been rigid with shock.  The doctors at the ward had told her that the penis and the prostate and the testicles would be necessary for her new assignment.  Gerlinde had cried and had wondered why.<br/><br/>Now she understood.  The new flesh made her understand.  The new ache told her what she was doing in the East:  She was here to penetrate.  To seed.  To explore the possibilities of shaping another’s flesh.<br/><br/>Gerlinde felt her cock to be seven inches long and thick as a pipe, already.  The shaft thumped and sang as she became aware of it.  The twin bands of her vas deferens surging with insistence on seeding tingled with the adjustment.  Gerlinde shifted her swelling penis in the ruler-straight, seamless hug of her breeches, as the girl was presented to her.  Her fingers clasped its throbbing.  She moved her balls forward to where the crush of leather was more pleasurable than confining.<br/><br/>She examined the girl.  Not just as a doctor.  She was more than just a doctor now.  The fact of this pulsed under her hand, pulsed harder as she took her hand away, pulsed wider as she stared at the girl.<br/><br/>“Strip for inspection.”  Gerlinde commanded.  The wind of the East hissed in its usual hard excitement, as if it knew what was about to happen.<br/><br/>That soon, the Kommandant would arrive.<br/><br/>That soon, the experiment would begin.<br/><br/>That, as the new ache growled and Hauptsturmführer-Doktor Baumann’s duties demanded, it was time to explore the possibilities.<br/><br/>Gerlinde Baumann’s new cock reached against her black leather breeches with fresh excitement for the girl from the East.<br/>