Message-ID: 205519Z01031995@anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous contact service Reply-To: an43067@anon.penet.fi Lines: 419
The following story was inspired by the article "TG: Trained to Serve" which was posted here about a month ago.
The portrayal of gender roles in this story is purely fantasy, though to judge by Newt Gingrich's recent comments about men being suited to combat because they are "piglets" and women not because they get "infections," it seems that my fantasy is probably pretty common among the upper ranks of government and military. In fact, I'll bet that Newt has wet dreams about the Lieutenant every night.
Basic Training
I had been in boot camp only a week that July when the Lieutenant first appeared. The drill sergeant had informed us that our squadron was to be inspected the next day by his superior officer, and that while he expected peak performance from us each and every day, it was especially important for him to impress the Lieutenant, and any lapses or shortcomings would dealt with particularly severely on inspection day.
The next day dawned, and the sergeant ordered us to line up and come to attention, and then he himself snapped rigidly to attention as the Lieutenant arrived. He was remarkably tall, about the same age as myself, a large man with big hands and heavy eyebrows. "Sir!" the sergeant said, staring forward, "the troops are ready for your review, Sir!"
"Very good, sergeant," said the Lieutenant, laconically returning his salute before turning to the line of new recruits. He walked down the line, examining each man in turn, until he came to me. He stopped, and taking my chin with thumb and forefinger raised my face to his. I met his eyes, which were deep and brown, before looking away, but my eyes were drawn back to his. "This one seems like a good candidate," he said before releasing me at last from his scrutiny. His voice was deep and mellifluous. "I will be taking a personal hand in this one's training."
"Yes, Sir!" said the sergeant. And from that moment, life, never pleasant in boot camp, became an utter torment to me. Starting that afternoon, while the Lieutenant still looked on, the sergeant began to find flaws in my performance, whether in the execution of a push-up or my posture at attention, which he would never have remarked in any of the other men. At first I thought he wanted to make an example of me to show off his strictness in front the Lieutenant, but his harshness continued after the day of the Lieutenant's visit had passed. Of course my punishment would consist of extra calisthenics, more push-ups or chin-ups, or standing at attention staring at nothing for long periods of time, so that my body ached and I was so tired all the time that I started to make real mistakes in the performance of exercises that I used to be able to do nearly as well as the other men.
After a week or perhaps two of this, the sergeant ordered me into his office at the end of the day. I came to attention, and while the sergeant stood in front of his desk, out of the corner of my eye I saw the Lieutenant seated beside it.
"Private," said the sergeant, "because your performance has been so completely unsatisfactory since the day you embarrassed me in front of the Lieutenant, and because you have not responded well to the extra discipline I have used to correct you, I have decided to hand over your case to the Lieutenant, who will now take your training in hand."
"Yes, Sir," I said with a sinking feeling.
"Do not speak while at attention until given permission, unless to acknowledge a direct order," said the Lieutenant, speaking from the shadows in a deep voice.
"Yes, Sir," I said, my dread increasing. If I had had any illusions that the Lieutenant might be a fairer taskmaster than the sergeant, they were now removed.
"From now on," said the sergeant, "each day I will report on your performance to the Lieutenant, and you will report to my office at the end of the day, where the Lieutenant will meet you, and determine the disciplinary measures to be taken. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Sir," I said. I understood that the Lieutenant had maneuvered this situation, and that I was now in his hands.
After this, I had a brief respite for a few days or perhaps a week, during which my evening meetings with the Lieutenant went well. I dared to hope that my situation had improved. The sergeant found little fault in my performance during this time, and the Lieutenant praised me for having turned myself around. But that didn't last long, unfortunately. The Lieutenant began to take note of the slightest infractions reported by the sergeant, and soon I was suffering again under a load of extra chores and exercises. If anything, the Lieutenant's discipline was more severe than the sergeant's had been. "I will personally break the spirit of rebellion in you," he told me one day as he was announcing my daily punishment.
This went on for a few weeks, and I was performing less and less well at my regular duties, when the Lieutenant summoned me to the sergeant's office one afternoon at a time different from our usual meeting time.
"Private," he said, as I was standing at attention, "you do not appear to be made of the material this man's Army requires of its soldiers. You are a sissy, not a man. Here, take this," he said, disdainfully handing me a paper package with the name of a women's clothing store printed on it. "Put these on tomorrow instead of your jockstrap, so that everyone can see what a sissy you are. You are dismissed for the rest of the afternoon, so that you can think about your failings and the shame they have brought on you."
The package contained ladies' panties. I was mortified when I had to put them on the next morning. Though I tried to be discreet and turn my back on the other men, there is no privacy in the barracks, and some one, or a few, noticed, and called out, "What a sissy! Look at the girl wearing the lacy underwear!" Then of course all the other men had to come and look and point and laugh and call me names. There was little point in explaining the situation; I tried at first, but the men only laughed more, as though I deserved it, saying that the Lieutenant would not have ordered this humiliation if I hadn't. In the end, I had to give up and endure their taunts silently.
To make sure of my humiliation, the Lieutenant came to the parade ground in the morning, and ordered me to drop my britches in front of the other men, in case they hadn't yet observed the change in my uniform. Then the Lieutenant gave a speech about how I was an example of what happened to sissies, and went away. Despite my embarrassment, I was glad that I had obeyed his order and worn the panties. I had considered disobeying him, but had he commanded me to drop my pants and seen the evidence of my disobedience, the consequences would have been so severe that I did not like to think of it. Obedience was the best policy.
There followed several months of horror. The men no longer respected me, and constantly taunted me. The Lieutenant's disciplinary actions became more and more severe. The panties, at first only an occasional punishment, became more and more frequent, until at last even I became inured to the shame of wearing them; and then fiendishly he switched to making me wear other articles of women's clothing, such as a padded bra, to refresh my sense of shame. This kind of punishment alternated with the more usual sort of extra calisthenics and KP duty and latrine duty; though over the course of time, my athletic activities were gradually curtailed, and I was assigned more often to the menial chores of cooking and cleaning. Even my barracks mates picked on me, and in the evenings they forced me to sew back the buttons that had come off their uniforms, calling me a "girl" or "Missy" even as I did their bidding.
During this time, as autumn was passing, I thought about possible means of escape from my situation. I thought about deserting, but the fear of reprisal when I should be caught prevented me. I contemplated going over the Lieutenant's head and complaining to his superiors, but the sergeant dissuaded me. As the Lieutenant made it more and more clear that he had taken complete control of my training, and the sergeant was not responsible for my punishment, the sergeant became more friendly towards me, and he told me that the Lieutenant was the darling of his superiors. With his good looks, athletic physique, and zeal for military discipline, the Lieutenant was the embodiment everything that the upper echelons envisioned as the Army ideal. A complaint from me would go nowhere, but would only increase the harshness of the Lieutenant's treatment of me when he came to hear of it. So I could only look forward to the end of my term of enlistment for relief. In the meantime, I followed orders as best I could, and practiced obedience to the best of my abilities, so as to avoid the Lieutenant's more severe discipline, and I grew resigned to submitting to the punishments I could not escape.
The one new punishment that the Lieutenant introduced at this time, since I had grown indifferent to the shame of all the other punishments he heaped upon me, was that he ordered me to shave my body. One afternoon, he summoned me to the office and said, "You seem to have grown accustomed to wearing women's clothing, as a sissy like you would. Since you like it so much, you can shave your legs as well, to go along with it." He made me get a razor and shave my legs right there before him. It took some time, because my body was rather hairy, a fact of which I had been proud; and the hair was coarse. But the Lieutenant waited and watched until I was quite done. About a week later, he made me shave my chest, and then a few days after that, my armpits. The only body hair he left to me was my pubic hair. Naturally, there was no hiding the mark of my latest shame from the men in the showers, and I was exposed to their further derision. This happened about five months into my enlistment.
At the end of six months, the men of my squadron came up for reassignment, but my record I knew was so sullied by disciplinary actions that I had no hope of receiving any kind of good post. But the actuality turned out to be worse than I had imagined possible. I found that I had been assigned to the personal service of the Lieutenant himself. "So long, girl," cried the men as they boarded the bus that was to carry them from the snow-bound camp to the air field. I was not sorry in the least to see them go. But now I was to be left alone with the Lieutenant. The sergeant himself drove me to my new quarters behind the officer's building. "Good luck, Missy," he said, shaking my hand before he left. He meant me well, but even he had fallen into the habit of calling me by the nickname the men had given me.
It was the first day of the new year when the Lieutenant's staff corporal met me by the concierge's desk. "Let me take your duffle bag," he said. He led me to my new quarters, saying, "The Lieutenant has provided a new kind of uniform for you. You won't be needing most of these things, so he has ordered me to put them in storage for you. Why don't you take your clothes off and have a nice relaxing shower, and I'll take care of this for you."
I saw that I had no choice in the matter, so I asked the corporal for my kit out of the bag, undressed, leaving the clothes I had been wearing folded on the bed, and went naked down the hall to the shower room. I took a long, warm shower to relax, and indulged in the luxury of shaving my body. I had continued to keep my body smooth, because it made me itch when the hair started to grow back in, and also, because I found I liked the feeling of my skin when it was smooth. The corporal surprised me by poking his head into the shower. He saw what I was doing, but made no comment. "Here is a towel for you. I have finished my work," he said, and left.
I wrapped the towel around my body, and returned to my room. My male clothing was altogether gone, leaving only the women's garments, such as the panties, that the Lieutenant had given me to wear; the rest had been replaced with a selection of women's apparel. Hanging in the closet and neatly folded in the drawers I found skirts, blouses, panties, brassieres, girdles, hose. I was not altogether surprised, nor was I altogether disappointed. I had grown accustomed to wearing individual articles of women's clothing, and found them as comfortable as men's clothing, or indeed even more so. I chose a nice blouse and matching skirt to wear to my first meeting with the Lieutenant the next morning, and went to sleep.
In the morning, I stood before the Lieutenant while he berated me. "Since your performance has been so abysmal," he said, "you will have to start again from the very bottom and work your way back up. I am assigning you to women's work, since that is all you are fit for, and I have ordered that you be outfitted accordingly. Now that you are completely in my hands, there is some hope that we can make something of you. If you are willing and do not resist. Nothing I do can help you, unless you cooperate."
"Yes, Sir," I said humbly.
"Very well, then, you may start in on your new duties."
At first, my new duties were something like the ones I had performed towards the end of the previous period. I was assigned to cooking and cleaning chores for the most part. My exercise regimen, however, was somewhat changed. I noticed that the training exercises for upper body strength were greatly reduced in strenuousness, while shaping exercises for legs and waist were more highly emphasized. My diet was also changed: in the mess hall, I received special meals, which had slightly less meat, especially red meat, but more carbohydrates. With the reduced exercise regimen and increased caloric intake, as winter passed and started to turn to spring, I noticed that I was gradually gaining a few pounds of weight, but it was mostly in the breasts and buttocks, which became rounder and softer. I maintained my habit of shaving my body, and I began to use cremes and depilatories on my face to make the skin soft and reduce the five o'clock shadow to which I was prone.
Meanwhile, I practiced obedience to the Lieutenant's whims and submitted with resignation to the indignities he heaped upon me. I noticed that my duties, while still demeaning, were less onerous than they had been, and I was grateful to him for that. This was a fairly tranquil period of my life.
After about two months of this, the Lieutenant began to be less severe with me. My responsibilities were increased: instead of spending all my time in the mess, I was asked to help the corporal with office paperwork, and I made the Lieutenant's coffee in the morning. Soon after this, he called me into his inner office for a special meeting.
"You may have noticed that I have increased your privileges and trusted you with a few responsibilities," he began.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"That is because you have worked hard and earned it. Your performance has vastly improved. I am glad that your new circumstances have proven conducive to your service."
I felt a tremendous sense of happiness. I had finally begun to meet the Lieutenant's standards, a task which I had thought impossible. And I thought with gratitude of the Lieutenant's great patience with me, and the fact that he had taken my training under his own supervision, without which I could never have made the progress I had made. He had made a man of me, or, at least, a disciplined soldier.
"Thank you, Sir," I said simply. I had no other words to offer in reply.
Now that I was spending increasing amounts of time in the Lieutenant's office, I found that the more I saw of him, the more I grew to respect him. He was, as I have mentioned, a large and strong man, tall, square-jawed and handsome. A man's man, his bearing was so military and his comportment so disciplined that his dominance over his subordinates seemed perfectly natural, and his orders were obeyed unthinkingly by everyone under his command. Command came naturally to him, and he was good at it.
I devoted myself to his service, and in return, he reposed more and more confidence in me. I became, in practice, a part-time orderly to him: I brought his coffee and paper to him at his desk in the morning, I ran errands for him during my lunch break, I answered the telephone and answered his correspondence for him. I even began to press his clothes for him. The latter I did in my spare time: in the evenings, I would go over to his quarters and take care of his laundry.
Each time he gave me a new responsibility he made me happy, for it meant spending more time with him, and I admired him so greatly that I practically worshipped him. I found him filling my thoughts at other times, when he wasn't near. He even started to visit me in my dreams.
These dreams were extremely powerful experiences, though often they were simple in plot and structure. In one dream which I had several nights in a row, I saw him across a room full of people, laughing and talking, and I was filled with a terrible sense of loss and separation. I would wake from these dreams in a highly agitated state.
So the time passed until April had nearly run its course. The Lieutenant called me into his inner office one day. Receiving his summons had long since become a pleasurable experience, and not one to be dreaded.
"Private," he said, "the Memorial Day Officer's Ball is coming up not too long from now, and I thought that as a reward for your devoted service, and as a final test of your training, that you should come with me, dressed as a woman, and play my date for the evening. Would you like that?"
"Oh, Sir, would I!" I cried out in delight. The thought of being with him on a social basis even for an evening filled me with ecstacy. I could think of nothing else for weeks. By day, our relationship continued to be as professional as ever. But my strange dreams ceased to trouble me at night.
The Monday before the ball, the Lieutenant gave me a list of stores, shops and beauty salons. "I have contacted all of these stores, and made arrangements to have credit extended to you under my name, as if you were my wife. Take the week off, and shop to your heart's content, for things for the ball. It will give you practice playing the woman in public, among other things."
"Thank you, Sir!" I said from the bottom of my heart.
I spent the week delightedly picking out just the right evening gown, shoes and handbag. I had my hair done. It had grown to moderate length, since it had not been cut since the buzz cut I got at enlistment. I found my new hairstyle charming. Friday morning I had a facial and a manicure, followed by a makeover. Rouge, lipstick and mascara were delicately applied, to highlight the features without exaggeration. No one suspected me of being a man at all during the week. I hardly ever thought of myself that way any more either.
In the afternoon, I spent hours dressing myself, so that everything would be just right. At last, there were no more preparations I could make, and I fretted away the remaining time, which seemed to pass with infinite slowness.
At six o'clock precisely, the Lieutenant rang my doorbell. He brought me a dozen long-stemmed roses. He was very handsome in his uniform, and I realized that I wanted to kiss him and taste the fullness of his lips. But I controlled myself. "For tonight only, you may call me Mark, or 'darling,'" he said.
We made a very striking couple. I am short for a man, but tall for a woman, and with the high heels I was a very statuesque partner to my tall handsome Lieutenant. My gown was designed to flatter my shape. I have long legs for my size, and a short torso; my regimen of diet and exercise had made my legs shapely, my waist slim, and my buttocks and breasts soft (the last features being accentuated by a brassiere designed to press them up to form a cleavage). The Lieutenant, on the other hand, had stocky, powerful legs, a long, muscular torso, and thick arms. The contrast was striking. We were the talk of the ball.
The conversation was witty and sparkling. I managed to fit right in with the other women (gossiping merrily in the powder room while the men went to the bar to get whiskey), and the Lieutenant's male friends were completely taken with me (and taken in by me). Only once I slipped up and called him "Sir" at the dinner table. The men all laughed and congratulated him on having found such a compliant female. The taste of his name and the term "darling" on my tongue were like honey.
At the end of the evening we danced, and he enveloped me in his strong arms while I gazed up into the depths of his eyes, as I had on the day I first saw him. When the dance ended, he kissed me. Outwardly it might have been just for show. But his tongue invaded my mouth and my body thrilled as if electrified.
At last, the evening ended like a dream in a wreath of smoke, and the Lieutenant's friends departed, laughing, and congratulating him on having brought such a fine date. "Now that you've caught her, don't let her get away," they joked.
The Lieutenant brought me back to my quarters. "What a success! You carried it off perfectly! Here is your reward," he said. "Go wash your makeup off, and hurry back."
I rushed to wash my face, and quickly returned. He stood before me, put his hands to his zipper, and freed his penis from its confinement. It was thick, already partially erect, and soon solidified into its full size, eight inches long and two across, the broad head swollen purple with desire. It was exaggerated as every other aspect of his masculinity, and I desired it enormously.
I kicked off my heels, and kneeling before him, put my arms around his muscular thighs. Then I took the majestic crown of his organ into my mouth. I felt as though this was what I had been training for all year. I was devoted to his manhood, which was so great that it had subsumed my own. I licked, caressed and sucked his great member; I made myself the instrument of his pleasure so that soon he was writhing and moaning with delight, spinning helplessly on his own shaft. I maintained a steady rhythm while his excitement grew. His breathing became ragged; his jaw fell open and he groaned mindlessly. Slowly and gradually, I brought him to the brink of orgasm. His hips bucked and thrust reflexively. Then all at once his penis began erupting into my mouth, while his powerful body convulsed spasmodically in the throes of pleasure. His mighty hands clutched at my shoulders while I clung to his massive buttocks to prevent being thrown off. Gout after gout of thick, hot, bitter semen shot into my throat and gratefully I drank it all down until the fount of his manhood had run dry.
For a while he stood gasping, his great chest heaving for air as he tried to recollect his wits. Then he came to, put his penis back into his pants, and said, "Thank you for a wonderful evening," before he turned and left. I pulled up my skirts and spilled my own seed right there on the floor in an agony of lust.
Things returned to normal at the base after that evening, and it seemed strangely as though nothing had happened. Until about a week later, when he called me into his inner office again.
"You come up for reenlistment again soon, don't you, Private?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," I said. I remembered a time when I had wanted nothing but for my enlistment to end, but now I had mixed feelings. I didn't know what my future in the Army might be. I wanted to stay with the Lieutenant, but I would probably be reassigned somewhere else.
The Lieutenant handed me an envelope. "Here is an offer which I hope you will find attractive, in case you decide to reenlist," he said.
I opened the package. It contained a promotion to the rank of corporal, and a permanent assignment as adjutant to the Lieutenant.
"You would take up residence in my quarters, and cook and clean and do laundry for me, in addition to your regular duties in the office, if you decide to accept this offer."
"Thank you, thank you!" I cried, and I threw my arms around him. Just for once, he allowed me the breach of discipline.
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