Message-ID: <205519Z01031995@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an43067@anon.penet.fi (Mike S.)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous contact service
Reply-To: an43067@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed,  1 Mar 1995 20:29:21 UTC
Subject: Basic Training [Mm] {D/S fantasy}
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.

23 Jan 1995
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