The v Girl

By: Mya Robarts


In the barely lit room, there are only some gym mattresses and a couple of mirrors. I’ve set the mirrors so I can watch myself losing the V of my nickname.

My “one-hour stand” climbs onto the mattresses and touches my naked, trembling body. His breathing becomes ragged; his eyes are dark.

I never imagined my first time would be like this. In my imagination, when I had my first time, I would be in love.

I always thought I would only allow myself to be with someone in that way if I really, really loved that person. He would also be unconditionally in love with me. He would be someone who would look at me as though I was his sun.

I wanted to lose my virginity to someone who adores me. Preferably someone who would have said the five magic words: “Lila, will you marry me?” I wanted to have sex for the first time with someone I’d consider worthy enough to spend the rest of my life with. If I only had more time. Eighteen is too young in my book to have met the person to whom I’d want to commit my life.

I wish this occasion could have been a romantic spur of the moment situation. One thing leading to other in a natural manner and then ... I wouldn’t be a V-girl anymore.

That would have been an ideal situation. But I don’t live in an ideal world; I live in a world defined by a civil war.

My deflowering can’t be romantic or spontaneous. I’ve been preparing my first sexual encounter since I heard the troops were on their way to Starville.

I don’t love my sexual partner. He doesn’t love me, either. But it has to be him, or it’s going to be a random guy from the troops … through force.

My “lover” hesitates for a moment. I feel his weight pressing me to the mattress. His body tenses. I wait for him to make the next move, but I’m afraid he has changed his mind.

21st Year of the Civil War

Involved parties: Patriot Army, Nationalist Army

Number of Nationalist States of America casualties: 12,954,988

Number of Patriot States of America casualties: 3,859,895

“Copulation without conversation does not constitute fraternization.”

Saying among Allied troops during WW2

Chapter 1

As I ride the train back home in an open wagon through the abandoned razed cities, I think about the Patriot troops and their horrible history of sexual abuse. A history that includes victims like my mother.

I might become one of their victims soon.

My first time can’t involve sexual assault. I won’t have a gigantic, sweaty, smelly soldier enjoying every scream of pain and every tear while shouting obscenities at me.




I can’t bear the thought.

The Patriot leaders have announced the 03631 regiment’s visit to Starville. They will come to perform the recruitment ceremony.

It’s not easy to be a V-girl during times of war in a country where rape and sexual slavery are legal. As long as Patriots consider it a contribution to their war efforts they can take anyone … in any way they want. Soldiers think having intercourse with a V-girl cures them from deadly STDs. The recruitment ceremony is supposed to set some boundaries: It’s not rape. It’s the army recruiting “enlisters.” I need to lose my innocence before it can be taken away from me by force.

They won’t force my first time on me. I’ll give myself to Rey, pretending we are in love. It can only be today. We’ll be alone for some time in the secret training place of our rebellious gang. After tomorrow, we might not even have a place to make love. Not even a mattress.

My supervisor has let me out early today because I’ve been working extra hours. Sitting on the wagon’s floor around me are a dozen Starvillers who, like me, are trying to make their way home after work.

Most Starvillers are forced to work in local factories without payment. A few lucky ones have a paid job in Shiloh, a neighboring Nationalist city occupied by Patriots. As more small cities get annihilated, the wagons get emptier.

“Patriots are dumb. They lost to Nats near Montana, but Rocco makes it look like they won.”

They lower their voices. “Shh! Careful. You can get the ax for saying that.”

“Rotten luck. My son turns eighteen the day of the recruitment. And my nephew and niece are eligible for recruitment this year.”

“Or they could get married.”

“Too late for that; the Commissioner’s not issuing marriage licenses anymore.”

In a few weeks, the troops will be here to exert their “right” to perform recruitment. During a special ceremony, they’ll call non-married enlisters to join the army voluntarily. As a low-grade soldier, if you are a strong man or as a visitant-vassal, if you are an attractive person. If they don’t get enough enlisters, they are entitled to take them by force in any way they please.

Unfortunately, this year there are only twenty people appointed as enlisters. Even in good years, when we have hundreds of enlisters, the ceremony ends with rape and forced recruitment.

An old man, not one likely to be raped during recruitment murmurs derisively, “What’s the big deal with rape? I’d take it every day over hard-labor.”

The man’s words irritate me. Easy for him to say. Troops prefer young looking boys and girls. Childless old men like this idiot can’t sympathize.

“Yeah, because you’d love it if they shoved a pistol into your anus, no lubricant. After beating the hell out of you,” I mutter.

Perhaps he didn’t hear me. I would add more, but around Starvillers, the less you say, the better.

The whispering continues. “In Midian they forced someone to rape his brother.”

“The Accord Units will be here tomorrow.”

“They won’t stand against the troops. If troops want to take underage slaves, they will, no matter how many foreign Accord cops are here.”

“There are new guys. Maybe this time they’ll stand up for the kids.”

“Not with so few enlisters. If they get desperate, they’ll assault you too … and you’re ugly. No offense.”

“Then the crippled witch-doctor will be busy.”

There’s only one man people call witch-doctor in Starville. He’s my father.

Shh! There’s his daughter.”

Trembling with fury, I’m about to snap at the idiots who called my father crippled, when a different voice distracts me.

“Hey! Layla!”

“It’s Lee-lah. L-I-L-A, Lee-lah.” I say in a warning tone. People always mispronounce my name, but Starville beauty queen Elena Rivers knows it well. She just wants to taunt me. Her brown almond-shaped eyes glint maliciously. I’m a frequent target of Starvillers’ ill will.

Elena keeps sneering insults. She is particularly nasty today because four of her male cousins and two servants are with her. They’d come to her aid if I slapped her. Her entourage laughs at me, but today I can’t engage in a fight. I shut my ears to their idiotic sneers until I hear the word “troops.”

“I bet you the troops will recruit you. You know why?” She doesn’t wait for my reply, not that I plan to give her one. “Because they usually take fat, fugly virgins.”

“No need to be rude,” says Cara Winston, who sits near Elena. With so much mass rape, the V-word has become a swear word in Starville. The insult must sound exceptionally rude to Cara, a survivor of the troop’s assaults.

Elena keeps taunting me in a quiet voice. I don’t care. I’m used to being the town laughingstock. For the sake of the Comanche Resistance, I avoid fighting untrained people. But if Elena insults my dad or my siblings, I’ll teach her some manners.

Ignoring her, I steer my thoughts back to Rey. The only person in Starville I call a friend. He’s too attractive for his own good, but I don’t love him. He probably is still in love with his ex. But if it isn’t Rey, it will be someone from the troops. I won’t have my first time against my will, but that’s the fate of a lot of kids these days.

The Starvillers around me are afraid to complain about the recruitment, so they whine about poverty instead. Starville is smelly, miserable, and ruined. Most families cramp in nine decaying apartment complexes. All because Starvillers renounced to their American citizenship and embraced the Nationalist side. The side that, at the moment, is losing the war. Where were the charismatic Nationalist leaders who convinced locals to support their cause when the Patriots occupied Starville? The Nationalist leaders still appear on TV wearing expensive looking armor while Starville lacks the most basic services. In spite of the ruined state of the town, I only have two major complaints about Starville.

Pet peeve number one: Starvillers. Most of them are chauvinists and bullies.

Pet peeve number two: the smell. It stings my nose as the train reaches Starville’s hills. It reeks of sewage, death, and poverty.

If I could ignore that, I’d be happy here. Mother Nature has been generous with Starville’s surroundings. The city was built on the slopes of the Lion Sierra hills. Everything beyond the Starville limits is breathtakingly beautiful; the vibrant green of the glade, fields of orange flowers, mysterious woods, and especially the river. If you aren’t afraid of finding genetically modified beasts, you can venture out on a journey to the lake by hiking up the river.

Starville, like other Nationalist cities, has a ban on technology—the Patriots’ key weapon in war. The prohibition of even the most basic technology means lack of electricity, electronic communications, decent plumbing, shortages of running water. It also means Starville doesn’t have a train station. The train slows down when it approaches the outskirts of Starville. That’s the sign for me, and the other Starvillers, to jump off.

The women jump easily even in their ratty, long dresses. Elena is what Starvillers call a woman with crinoline. That means she can wear uncomfortable clothes because a servant will always carry her cloak or aid her to jump the train. The heavier the dress, the higher your status. I’m the only one wearing pants, but I almost fall because I can’t stop thinking about my emergency deflowering.

I don’t want my father to lose his eldest daughter to the troops. He shouldn’t have to watch his daughter being assaulted in public. But, what can I do to avoid it? Nothing at all. Except getting rid of my V as an act of defiance before the troops get the chance to rape me. Or turn me into a slave.

I go up a pebbled path before seeing the cluster of skeleton buildings standing on winding, asphalt streets that are full of potholes. Starville was built on hillsides, so moving around the city means climbing up and down steep streets. No traffic. Automatic vehicles are for the exclusive use of the soldiers, but some privileged families own horses. Envy courses through me when I see how Elena and her cousins have horses waiting for them, ready to take them home.

The weather turns hot, so Starvillers keep the usual cloaks that protect them from the abrupt climate changes in their bags. I’m way ahead of them, and soon I can’t see them anymore.

I take a detour toward the wilds surrounding the east side. Beads of sweat run down my face, and my curly light brown hair is tangled. I need to make myself look beautiful for my sexual debut and a bath would be a good start. My apartment doesn’t have running water for long periods of time, so we carry buckets from a nearby well. I’ll take a better bath in the river.

The old soldiers that guard Starville won’t come, but it’s dangerous to be exposed in a solitary place so far away from town. Bandits and beasts are a concern but because of my tendencies, I’m more worried about being spied on while bathing. That’s why I carry a couple of leather razor holders to wear around my thighs. Besides I hope to run into my personal bodyguard: my abnormally large dog, Poncho. He enjoys bathing on warm days. Poncho’s acute senses will warn me of any intruder.

The perfect place to bathe is partially hidden by rocks and old trunks. There’s a colossal old stone that acts as a wall, and the current is strong enough to make it an unpopular bathing place. Someone like me knows which parts of the river are most difficult to peep on. I also know which ones are preferred by Divine Sawyers and Joey Waters, who love to have sex in places where there might be observers. Today, I’m not interested in watching them.

I don’t see Poncho anywhere, but I decide not to wait for him.

The sunny, sultry weather and the water sloshing against the rocks make me sigh in contentment. If only I could be sure we wouldn’t risk being observed, I’d have tried to lure Rey here. Instead, I prepared some mattresses and mirrors at the museum ruins, The Comanche Resistance headquarters.

Ignoring the mosquitoes, I take off my clothes, but put on my thigh sheath. Grabbing the soap, I hang a couple of towels near the river’s edge and walk into the current.

I wash my wild hair, wishing I could dye the gray strands that grow at my hairline. I rub my body and absentmindedly watch the foam being dragged away by the current. I take special care to wash the areas that I hope Rey’s lips will touch.

In spite of the freezing water and the need to be on guard, my muscles start to relax.

The razors serve the double purpose of defense and shaving instruments. I hesitate over whether or not to shave my pubic area. What would Rey prefer? Remembering his ex-fiancée and her spotless appearance, I opt to shave it all. Nobody wants to fuck an ape.

In the water, I forget I’m behind in my plans. The majority of eighteen-year-olds I know have married already. That allows them to wear the tattoos that make them ineligible for recruitment. Some unmarried girls have been going all the way with their fiancés. I don’t have a fiancé or the slightest interest in finding one among Starville men.

Rey’s the only person I can think of who can serve my purpose. He’s the only available man in town who doesn’t despise me. He even protects me. Hopefully, he won’t find a reason to protect me from himself. I don’t want to develop feelings for my best friend. Because of my plans, Rey’s been in my thoughts constantly since the troops announced their arrival, and I hate it. To distract my mind from Rey, I venture further in the water current.

Feeling fresh now that I’m clean and shaved, my mood improves. I allow myself to relax, splash, and play.

A rumble brings me out of my reverie. My survival instincts wake up, and my body springs to alertness.

I hear some distant shots. It isn’t possible. Nobody in town has access to gunpowder or explosives. You don’t get caught with them unless you want to get executed. They have to be soldiers. Patriot soldiers.

Then, I hear steps on the river bank. I’m barely armed, not to mention naked and unprepared. My razors might keep Starville peeping Toms at bay, but they’ll be useless against soldiers.

I wade away. In no time, I find myself far from where I left my clothes. My best chance to safely get out of this situation is to avoid a fight. I can remain hidden if I move to the other side of the river behind the rocks.

The steps sound like they come from only one person, but I can’t be sure. Trying to not attract attention, I put distance between me and the steps. Hiding behind some bushes and rocks, I submerge myself, leaving only my head above the water line.

Several minutes pass and I hear nothing. When I consider it safe to leave my hiding place, I swim, splashing as little as I can.

Then I notice something that makes my heart skip a beat.

I’m not the only person in the river. I can’t see how many people are around, but I can hear someone treading in the water.

Panic rushes cold through my veins. Have they seen me? Does the splashing come from Starvillers hiding from the shots as well?

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then another shot startles me, and I fight my body to keep calm. I swim as fast as I can, not caring about silence anymore. Better to put distance between myself and my possible enemies.

The current makes my escape slow. I reach a point where I can hide behind a trunk.

Then I see him.

A young man, so tall and built that for a moment, I think he’s Sasquatch minus the fur. No one in Starville, not even Rey, is so burly. Strong muscles reveal years of military training and hint at the drug use that makes Patriot soldiers so inhumanly tall and massive. Long wet strands of blond hair run down his broad back giving him a leonine look. The tattoos on his back tell me he has been in combat and deserves respect.

A soldier! He seems to be alone.

My stomach clenches in panic and my heart beats at top speed. Soldiers are sadistic giants and killing machines. The tonics they use to build their muscles make them extremely dangerous, violent, and horny.

I lose sight of him for a moment. He emerges in a different spot where the water is deep. The Sasquatch is so tall that the water covers only up his waist while he’s standing. He must be at least seven feet tall and without a doubt, the strongest soldier I’ve ever seen. When he moves, I can see his private areas. Every part of him is enormous.

The soldier doesn’t seem to be in attack mode. He’s inclined and rubbing foam around his massive torso. He’s bathing.

The possibility of being discovered, with no one to witness when he rapes me makes the hairs on the back of my neck prick. I could wait for him to go, but what if they plan to camp here? I won’t wait for the coast to be clear, risking discovery and gang rape.

I force myself to remain focused. I suspect he has a reason to be unbothered by the shots. If he’s not startled, it’s likely that whoever’s making the racket will take his side. I consider attacking him while he’s naked. I’ve been practicing knife throwing with my rebel group. But, Sasquatch’s nakedness and apparent relaxed behavior are deceiving. I’m armed while bathing, so he probably is too. And what if he alerts his companions? I don’t stand a chance fighting against a trained unit of steroid-injected soldiers.

He’s blocking the safer spot to get out of the river. There’s a gargantuan rock behind him that reaches not far from where I’m hiding. If I could climb it unseen, I could get back to where my clothes are and escape. The only other option is to swim to the other side, where the current is too strong. At this moment, my only advantage is my knowledge of the hiding places in this river.

The soldier frequently submerges and emerges for several minutes. My eyes open wide when I see that Sasquatch’s leonine face looks incredibly sad. Sadness isn’t an emotion I associate with soldiers.

When he rubs his face with foam and closes his eyes, I silently approach the lower part of the current and climb the rock.

I put my foot on the base of the rock. It’s smooth and slippery. There are few places to put my fingers and climb on, but I manage to climb my way up.

When I’m almost at the top, I toss my knife over the rock to free my hands. From here I see the soldier is all by himself.

The higher I climb, the less visible I become to him.

Sasquatch is back under the water now and hasn’t resurfaced for a while. In spite of the danger, I gawk, impressed by his lung capacity.

He finally emerges to take air, but I hide until he goes back under. I’m close to my goal when my feet become slippery traitors.

I fall to the water below me.

Butt first. Straight toward the soldier’s head.

Also By Mya Robarts

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