Barrack Room Betty Ch. 02

'I fucking hope so; but I don't think so,' Michele postulated.

Meanwhile back at the wets the four leading recruits were pleasantly pissed. They'd been drinking beer but stayed off the spirits. They wanted their faculties sharp when they tormented the Wrens that evening.

"I'm going to get one of the Wrens to be my beagle; she can wash and iron my kit and make my rack," Jean Burgess mused, lying on a couch blowing smoke at the ceiling.

"She can dhoby all our clothes and make all our racks; she will be our cabin beagle!" Spike laughed.

"I'm going to get one to be the bar steward; she can pour our drinks, empty ash trays and keep this mess clean," Billy Marron reflected.

"And we've already got the fat one cooking scran so we're pretty well looked after," Jimmy Lovejoy said.

"Yep they are going to be our Barrack Room Bettys," Jimmy grinned.

"What about the Writer? What can we get her to do for us?" Jean queried.

"Fuck all!" Spike snapped.

"She's mine!" he growled.

"Fuck; ok Spike! She's your reg office writer then; we all agree right lads?" Jimmy Lovejoy said, smoothing the troubled waters.

They all nodded and Spike took a swig of his beer and finished it. He looked at his watch.

"Right! Let's get some dinner and then we can see how our Wren Division is turned out," he chortled.

The Wrens of Collins Division were fallen in, toeing the line, ready to be inspected. Michele went up and down the line, adjusting clothing, brushing hair, fixing little makeup mistakes. She walked to rear of the line and stopped behind each Wren and ensured their seams were straight.

"That tickles," Wren Perkins giggled.

"Feels kinda nice," Wren Maine laughed as Michele's hand slid down her thighs and calves.

"Feels fucking uncomfortable!" Doris Holliday griped.

They heard the crunch of footsteps and the clattering of doors being opened then more footsteps and all four Wrens shivered with dread. The cabin door burst open and their four nemesis' lead by Leading Recruit Spike Jones strode into the cabin

"Recruit Wren Nyland reporting Collins Division Wrens for you inspection," she said in her best faux feminine voice.

"Jesus Spike they look amazing!" James Lovejoy stood open-mouthed looking at the four feminine sexy Wrens.

"I don't believe it!" Jean Burgess said at the same time.

"They look gorgeous!" Billy Marron blurted out.

Wrens Perkins and Maine couldn't help but smile at the compliments but Doris Holiday just scowled.

'The other grommets might get some sick satisfaction out being forced to crossdress; but not Recruit Holiday' she thought. She couldn't wait until this was over and she could get back into number 8s and cook's whites.

Michele also didn't smile; she was watching Spike Jones intently and what she saw disturbed her; the lizard-look in his eyes as he gazed at the four attractive Wrens. What had started out as a joke was fast becoming disturbingly dangerous. The four Leading Recruits, brimming with testosterone and months without physical contact with the opposite sex were eyeing the four Wrens with keen interest.

The four grommets had been forced into submission by months of bullying and were already servile, but now Polly and Mary were unconsciously becoming subservient and effeminate by being forced to crossdress. Although they were likely not sexually aroused, they were certainly flattered that the young men found them attractive. For the first time in months they were not objects of scorn, rather they were objects of desire.

As for Wren Holliday she was ambivalent about the whole dressing as a Wren thing; at least she wasn't being beaten and harassed all day. And Wren Nyland - well she had her own story. It was obvious now to everyone by the way she self-assuredly wore the clothes and makeup, the way she walked, even the way she talked, that crossdressing was not new to her.

"Ok shut up you meatheads; this is a parade," Spike growled at his three cohorts who swaggered and harrumphed so as not to appear chided in front of the Wrens

Spike took off his greatcoat and threw it on the table and walked down the line of Wrens. He put his cane under the chin of Mary Maine, lifting her head and looking into her big green eyes accentuated by eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow. Her ruby-red lips were succulent and full.

"This makeup seems excessive Wren Maine; is it in accordance with BR3, Royal Naval Uniform Regulations?" Spike asked.

"No Leader but its how Wren Nyland taught me to wear it," Mary replied looking guiltily at Michele.

Michele smiled and nodded wanly at her friend intimating it was ok to blame her; she was likely going to cop a beating anyway.

Then he roughly lifted her uniform skirt.

The three Leading Recruits gasped.

"And these suspenders, stockings and filly satin knickers; are they in accordance with the BR?" he growled.

The gauzy welts of the dark 15-denier stockings were snapped to garters attached to a black satin and lace suspender belt; the garters led under a pair sheer white nylon panties. Michele had made her charges trim their pubic hair and had gaffed their male genitalia so it almost looked like Mary had female parts under her silky knickers.

"No Leader," Recruit Maine responded.

"And you reek of perfume Wren Maine!"

He dropped her skirt and approached Wren Holiday.

"If you dropped a stone in weight Wren Holiday; you might be Wren material," he snarled and then strode on stopping in front of Wren Perkins.

Polly looked absolutely stunning and other than Michele was the best looking of the four.

"BR3 says that makeup must be discrete and heavy eyeliner, brightly coloured eyeshadow and nail polish and excessive makeup is prohibited. Isn't that right Wren Perkins?" Spike bellowed.

"Err...if you so Leading Recruit Jones," Polly answered although she had not studied the section of BR3 regarding female uniforms; why would she?

"And I bet..."

Spike hiked up her skirt with his cane exposing her silky stocking tops and black lace and satin knickers.

Michele was standing next to Spike; following him down the line as he inspected her Division.

Spike dropped Polly's skirt and you could hear the gasp of disappointment from the three male observers. Spike swivelled on his heels and turned to Michele.

"Go on! Lift you skirt Wren Nyland; we all know you will also be in contempt of general orders by wearing non-approved uniform but lets see anyway!"

Michele cautiously lifted her skirt; the satin liner hissed on her sheer stockings. Slowly the shadow welt of her stockings came into view followed by the dark silky band of the welt proper. The shirt inched slowly up her creamy thighs exposing the lacy garters of a black and red suspender belt and finally the gusset of her red satin full-cut panties.

"My god Wren Nyland! Red underwear! In uniform!" Spike was red-faced with anger.

The other three men were just mesmerised by the sight of the pretty Wren holding up her skirt and showing off her sexy legs and knickers. It was like a fantasy come true; they had conveniently forgotten that 'their Wrens' were men.

"But you told me you wanted feminine sexy Wrens Leader; so that's what you have," Michele said in her defence.

"Don't you answer me back you bitch!" Spike spat.

Without warning and as quick as lightning he dragged a chair out from under the nearby desk and fell into it, pulling Michele across his lap as he did so.

Michele wriggled and squealed as he held her across his lap, pinning her wrists behind her back. Her skirt had ridden up exposing her stocking-clad legs and luscious, plump bottom encased in the sleek satin knickers. The globes of her buttocks strained at the slinky material while her legs kicked and scrambled as she struggled.

At some stage Michele realised that Spike was becoming aroused; his engorged member strained against his trousers and pushed against Michele's lower belly. She could feel it through the panty material.

Michele stopped wriggling because she knew that by struggling she was also stimulating him.

Smack!

"OOOwww!!" Michele howled as Spike's hand slapped her bottom.

Smack!

"Oh my God stop it!" she begged, but she felt his penis throb through the layers of clothing.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Michele writhed in pain and wriggled and bucked in Spike's lap; his breathing was hot, heavy and ragged. He spanked Michele harder, delighting in the feel of her soft satin-cased buttocks on his fingers and her soft stockinged thighs and taunt belly on his lap.

"You can't do this!" Polly Perkins screamed, but knew better than to break ranks.

"Spike! Spike! Enough!" Jean Burgess yelled, but he too knew better that to psychically interfere.

"I'll teach you to be insubordinate Wren Nyland!" Spike was red faced and puffing.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Michele could actually feel him push up with his groin each time his hand came down on her behind. On the last slap his hand stayed on her buttocks pushing her panty-clad groin down on to his and Michele felt his cock convulse and then his hot seed soaked into the front panel of her panties.

This was not the first time Michele had experienced a man expend himself on her panties and despite the burning sensation (or if she was to be honest with herself, enhanced by the pleasant burning sensation in her bottom) she too was aroused. Thankfully this was not apparent because she was gaffed.

Spike was sweating despite the cold and he was red faced with exertion; attributes he used to disguise the fact that he had just orgasmed.

He pushed Michele off his lap and she fell to floor, all legs, knickers and heels. She scrambled around on the polished tiled floor until she managed to get to her feet and smooth down her skirt. This spectacle attracted the attention of everyone in the room and gave Spike the distraction he needed to quickly pull on his greatcoat and cover the wet patch in the front of his trousers.

The three other leading recruits were all sporting erections, which gratefully for them were hidden by their greatcoats. They would never admit to each other how arousing it had been to watch Wren Nyland with her skirt hiked up being paddled on her cute bottom. Mary and Polly were equally affected; their excitement hidden by their gaffs.

Michele gained her composure and fell in with the other three Wrens.

"Well let that be an example to you all. Wren Nyland had to break the rules to follow my orders. She met the requirements set by me to make the Wren Division look half-decent but in doing so she countermanded the instructions in BR3."

"And for that she was both punished and rewarded," Spike said magnanimously.

Everyone in the room looked perplexed but no one was going to argue with Spike.

"Your reward, Wren's Division, is that tonight you may have a case of beer from the wets to share amongst yourselves and lights out will be delayed until 2230 so you can celebrate your attainment of finally becoming fit and proper Wrens."

"Ok lads back to the wets. Good night ladies; your beer will be left outside the wets door.

"Same duties tomorrow as they were today," Spike said dismissively.

"We still gotta wear these silly fucking uniforms tomorrow!" Doris Holliday bellowed.

Spike swung on his heels and strode towards Doris his hand pulled back ready to slap her face. Michele stepped in front of her friend and lifted up her chin and tilted her face ready to take the blow. Spike held himself ready to strike and glowered into Michele's pretty eyes; she stared defiantly back at him. They held each other's gaze for a beat then Spike lowered his hand.

He turned to his mates and grinned.

"Wrens! Can't live with them; can't live without them, eh lads," Spike laughed and led his marauders out of the block and back to the wets.

Later that night Michele, Doris, Polly and Mary sat around drinking beer and smoking, ruminating over the day's events. All but Doris remained fully dressed and bewigged and Michele smiled when Polly and Mary fixed their makeup and brushed their hair when they returned from the heads. Doris had pulled off her wig and wiped off her makeup and looked forlorn.

"Well; let's see what tomorrow brings," Polly held out her beer and they clinked their bottles together.

To be continued.