Quaranteam: Florida Man; Part 1

The following will be an audience-directed story in the Quaranteam universe. Make sure to leave your most Florida Man ideas for the prompt at the end of the section!

“I heartily approve of this ridiculousness” - CorruptingPower

- - - - -

How it happened, Specialist Jessica Meyers couldn’t really be sure.

First, the world started ending - for most people, that would have been a good sign that things weren’t going well in her life. But Jessica was born and raised in Florida. Gators, snakes, hurricanes, flooding, Disneyland - there were signs of the apocalypse all the time in between the sunshine and beaches. What was a little sickness, a little virus, compared to a stampede of wild boars through the family plot? Do you know what those fucking hogs can be carrying? Fucking anthrax. Google it.

Next, though, came the orders from on high. Jessica didn’t know where they came from, or who decided to make them. She’d been in the Army for six months before the lockdowns started, and was going on a year in when she got called into her Staff Sergeants' office on base.

Jessica snapped to Parade Rest in front of his desk.

The Sergeant shot a half-hearted nod back at her and then waved dismissively. “At ease,” he said. “How are things going, SPC Meyers?”

“Well, sir,” Jessica said. “We’ve been on alert for like four months straight now. No one knows what’s going on so it’s become normal, which makes it all feel like we’re in the eye of a storm just waiting for the next wall to hit.”

“Mm, that’s fair,” the Sergeant nodded. He was tapping a folded envelope in his hands as he looked out the window onto the bleak-looking base. His desk was scattered messily with papers, more of them stacked haphazardly behind him on the shelf. Jessica worried that she was about to get reassigned to be his assistant just so he could get someone to clean up his mess.

“Can I ask why I got called in, sir?” Jessica asked through the medical mask she was wearing. The Staff Sergeant was wearing the same thing, along with both of them wearing disposable gloves. It was the latest ‘safety measure’ on base.

“You weren’t a regular enlistment, correct Specialist?” the Sergeant pivoted the conversation, turning back to her.

“Um… no, sir,” Jessica said. The story behind how she ended up a 26-year-old woman in basic training wasn’t public knowledge, though she knew some of her ranking officers had been made aware of some of the details. It wasn’t really legal for a court to order someone into military service these days, but when your Granddaddy is a judge and golfs twice a month with a two-star General, well, deals get made sometimes.

The Sergeant sighed, tapping that envelope against his fingers again. “Alright, well, orders are orders.” He handed Jessica the envelope. “You’re receiving a promotion to Sergeant effective immediately, and you’re being reassigned. Follow the directions inside.”

Jessica took the envelope but blinked in confusion. She still had over three years of service before she could be considered for a promotion. The only reason she was even a Specialist was because of her degree, which had been another one of those things her Granddaddy had pretty much shoved down her throat using blackmail and leverage. Same with the all-girls private school she’d been forced to go to before that.

“Serg?” she asked.

“You’re dismissed, Sergeant,” he said, nodding towards the door and dismissing her without an answer.

Jessica, not knowing what to do, nodded and left.

She never did get more of an explanation.

- - - - -

August 15th, 2020

“Dickie!” Jessica shouted.

The fucking idiot was about to die again.

He was dressed in nothing but a pair of stretchy short-shorts that Jessica was fairly certain he’d borrowed from Elly, a pair of sunglasses and a backwards baseball cap. To be fair - he had the body to carry it. Tall, ridiculously sculpted from spending way more time in the gym than necessary, and with a boyish charm that was disarming before you figured out what an animal he was. The significant bulge showing in the tight shorts was the primary saving grace for Dickie Dutton.

Unfortunately, it was Jessica’s job to make sure Dickie didn’t die. And he was currently swimming in a river, the tow rope for the rowboat clenched in his teeth. He was only using one hand to swim, however, because the other was keeping his tall boy can of Dos Equis out of the water, so he was moving slowly.

Slow, however, didn’t help with the alligator problem. No one was supposed to be swimming in the fucking river because of the fucking alligators. Jessica could see three of them from where she was running down the raised dock.

‘If you want to go out on the water, use the speedboat or the rowboat,’ Dickies father had told her over the phone. She’d never met the man, but he called to check in every morning on his son. It had immediately become clear to her when they had reached the house why that was. And if it had just been Jessica and Dickie, she would have been fine in keeping him safe and under control.

The problem was that the others egged him on. Constantly.

Elly and Barb were in nothing but bikinis and sunglasses, as usual. Elly was a tall redhead, absolutely gorgeous and stacked to the point that Jessica had willingly fallen into bed with her a couple of times now. When she wasn’t drunk, or high, she was a fantastic person to be around. Unfortunately booze, pot and coke were in ready supply. Jessica still hadn’t figured out how Dickie was getting the drugs.

Barb was a tiny, lithe redhead with an attitude and seemed to constantly be horny. If she wasn’t acting wild and encouraging Dickie to do something stupid because they were bored, she was humping him like a horny little chihuahua.

Now both of the redheads, double-fisting wine coolers as Barb had a cigar hanging from between her lips, were in the row boat and Dickie was apparently taking them on a tour of the river that the house backed onto.

“God fucking damn it, Dickie!” Jessica shouted from the dock. She’d spotted two gators sliding into the water, and who knew how many more were currently stealthing in his direction. If Dickie’s father hadn’t been calling her for another check-in, so that he could report to Dickie’s grandfather the US Senator, she would have been able to stop this before it started.

She had her pistol strapped to her thigh, and a knife on the other. She could run into the house to get one of the long guns she’d been furnished with. The speedboat was still moored to the dock, cover off, but she wasn’t sure if the keys were inside it or not.

In any world other than the one she was in, she would have let Dickie die of his own stupidity. Probably. Even if she was assigned to be his bodyguard - though it was much more like being his babysitter. Any other world, and he’d be dead already.

But Jessica was tied to Dickie by way of a government serum that was supposedly keeping them both alive through the pandemic. She needed his cum to live, which meant she needed him alive.

Golden fucking clit-cuffs. Or whatever.

What does Jessica do, and what goes wrong?