My name is Jill Corbin, and that sweltering afternoon in 1972 at the induction center changed everything. I arrived ready to enlist in the Women’s Army Corps, but the process began immediately at the front counter. After giving my name and purpose to the stern sergeant, he ordered me to remove all clothing right there—top, jeans, bra, panties, shoes—and leave them in a bin. From that moment, I remained completely naked. No gown, no privacy. Barefoot and exposed, I followed instructions through the preliminary questions, then walked naked down the hall to the main examination room, feeling every cool tile under my soles and every passing glance from staff.
The examination room was stark: buzzing fluorescent lights, cold tile floors, half-shuttered windows. Six or seven officers sat behind the long table in crisp uniforms, already noting my arrival on clipboards. I’d been naked for nearly an hour by then—the initial processing, the walk, the waiting. “Stand in the center, Miss Corbin, profile to us,” the colonel ordered. I turned sideways, arms at my sides, my body fully on display after prolonged exposure.
At first it was pure humiliation, but as their gazes lingered—assessing posture, curves, every inch—a forbidden heat built inside me. The undivided attention on my bare skin, the authority in the room, sent a confusing thrill through my core. My nipples tightened visibly; a deep warmth spread between my legs. Then I felt it—the slickness growing, undeniable. A single drop escaped, then another, landing with soft, audible taps on the tile floor beneath me. The small puddle formed slowly, making my arousal obvious to anyone looking closely. My face burned with shame, but the visibility only intensified the ache, my body betraying me under those clinical stares.
The questions started routine: childhood illnesses, surgeries, family history. Then they turned personal. “Miss Corbin, have you been sexually active? How many partners?” I answered honestly about my college boyfriend. A major followed up: “Any history of venereal disease? Frequency of sexual activity?” The attention fueled the dripping; I shifted my weight, hearing another faint drop hit the floor.
As the examination stretched on, one officer leaned forward, pen poised. “Private Corbin, describe in detail exactly how you masturbate—step by step, including technique, duration, and any specific fantasies involved.”
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