Beatris and the Final Exam

Beatris, a 24-year-old woman of breathtaking beauty, stood out in the relentless desert glare of the Blackthorn Unit’s secret compound. Her raven hair was bound in a tight braid, her green eyes burned with resolve, and her curvaceous figure—dominated by her strikingly large breasts—drew attention she neither sought nor desired. Her gentle nipples, soft and pink, added a delicate vulnerability to her otherwise commanding presence. As the daughter of General Marcus Varn, a military titan, Beatris had lived to earn his rare approval, training with unyielding discipline. Despite warnings from friends and mentors to choose a less perilous path, she’d battled her way into Blackthorn, a covert unit where she was the only woman among male recruits. She’d outshone them all, acing every test, and now faced the final exam: a brutal obstacle course designed to break even the strongest.

In the quartermaster’s tent, Beatris’s heart sank as she received her standard-issue uniform: a pair of rugged camouflage shorts and nothing else. No shirt, no vest, no exceptions. Her big, prominent breasts, with their sensitive nipples exposed, would be completely unprotected, their size making the omission feel even more glaring.

“This can’t be right,” she said, her voice steady despite the heat rising to her cheeks. “There’s no top?”

“Standard for all Blackthorn soldiers,” the quartermaster, a grizzled man with a weathered scowl, replied. “Equality means no exceptions. You’re a soldier, not special. Change and report in ten.”

Beatris gripped the shorts, her embarrassment flaring. She’d conquered countless challenges, but this uniform, leaving her large breasts bare, felt like a deliberate test of her resolve.