Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Three – Michele’s Story

The four Wrens of Collins Division woke at ‘call the hands’ at 0640. Doris had got out of bed at 0600 to prepare breakfast and was in the galley. She’d tried her best to do her makeup and dress like a Wren but she still looked like a ‘scranbag’; not that it mattered, in the steam filled, greasy kitchen. Her hair was matted and her makeup ran as she sweated over breakfast.

Michele, Polly and Mary shaved and took their time applying makeup, pulling on and brushing their wigs and dressing in their Wrens uniforms.

“Ok girls; let’s get breakfast. Try not to upset Spike or get the other Leading Recruits offside,” Michele said fluffing around her charges and making sure they met her standards.

In the café, the Wrens sat at their table and ate their breakfast; very aware that the four Leading Recruits were looking at them critically. Michele kept her two Wrens engaged but she noticed that both Mary and Polly were preening and glancing across to the boys table.

“You two need to be careful,” Michele said.

“What on earth do you mean?” Polly asked.

“You know what I mean. You like it that the guys find you attractive. You don’t know where this might lead to, we still have the best part of six weeks to go,” Michele said.

“Oh come on Michele; it’s just a jolly! We look great dressed as Wrens thanks to your help but it’s just another way for the Leading Recruits to intimidate us. At least now they seem to appreciate us and don’t treat us like shit!” Polly replied.

“Yeah…Well just be careful,” Michele said.

Polly and Mary gave Michele an insolent look and glanced over to the men’s table and were happy to see that Jimmy, Jean and Billy were furtively glancing their way. Polly wriggled in her seat and smoothed her skirt ensuring her stocking-tops were on display and was rewarded with a gasp when the boys saw her thighs. Mary pushed out her breasts and ran her hand though her hair and was rewarded with a smile.

“Just be careful!” Michele snapped again and stood up and left the table.

She went back to the block and made a brew and sat outside smoking a cigarette, drinking her tea. She was worried about her friends who now had now become her charges; were they really that naive? Polly seemed very taken with crossdressing as a Wren, she obviously enjoyed the attention, and Mary was similarly engrossed with her female persona and happy to be an object of devotion rather than derision. Doris was not happy dressing as a Wren and Michele wondered if it was genuine disgust at having to dress as the opposite sex or whether she was pissed that she really didn’t look that good dressed as a Wren because of her weight.

She glanced at her watch and saw it was 0805 and time to turn too. HMS Chelmsford was ‘out of routine’ during the ROP, flag Charlie flying from the yard, indicating that the ceremony of colours and sunset was in abeyance. Normally both watches of the hands mustered on parade and reported for duty followed the hoisting of the White Ensign at 0800. Today Michele flicked her cigarette butt into the spit-kid, put her cigarettes and lighter into her pockets and made her way over to the administration building and the regulating office.

Leading Recruit Jones sat with his feet up at the Regulator’s desk, his spit-polished boots resting on the edge of the desk as he smoked a cigarette and sipped tea. He deliberately did not acknowledge Michele as she entered the office, removed her jacket and hung it on a peg, and sat behind the desk where the Wren Writer usually sat to type out Daily Orders, watchbills and various Memoranda.

He however did notice that once again she smoothed the seat of skirt and crossed her legs at the ankles; very ladylike peculiarities. The silence was icy and neither of them wanted to recount what had happened when Spike has spanked her last night.

“Get your pad and come over here Wren Nyland and I’ll dictate Daily Orders for tomorrow,” Spike said.

Michele picked up her steno pad and sat on a chair in front of Leading Recruit Jones, acutely aware of his gaze on her pretty face, her body and on her legs as she crossed them and smoothed down her skirt. Her right knee crossed over her left and she unconsciously rocked her right leg and dangled her shoe.

“Ok enough bullshit Michele. You know too much about dressing like a lady, makeup, clothes, wigs, the whole lot. And your mannerisms and voice; you can’t learn them in two days. What’s the story?” Spike stared at her.

Michele just sat, head down staring at the floor, dreading being here alone with Leading Recruit Jones. She raised her head and looked at him defiantly but there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“You know you’re going to tell me; even if I have to spank it out of you,” Spike winked at her but Michele saw the cold malice behind the wink and shivered.

“Ok. This is my story,” Michele began…

Michael was born late in his parent’s marriage, an accident that occurred when his mom was in her mid-thirties. He had four older sisters who pretty much raised him in their mother’s absence as she was businesswoman who thought her child raising days were behind her. His sisters had no compunction in getting around the house partially clothed in his presence. They regularly turned up for breakfast dressed only in slip, bra, panties and hose. Their makeup would already be applied and they would eat their breakfast dressed only in lingerie. His sisters noticed his fascination with how they were dressed and teased him. They made him wear panties and slips to bed instead of pajamas.

They often held him down and put makeup on him, teasing out his long curly locks, dressing him in their lingerie and dresses, skirts, blouses, and heels. By the time Michael entered his early teens his sisters had married and left home but his predilection to crossdress was ingrained.

The feel of the sleek fabric of stockings, panties, bras, slips and suspenders on his skin was like nothing he had ever experienced in his short life. The flick of a hem, the sense of his skirt or dress against his thighs, flicking his fringe out of his eyes, wearing high-heels making his buttocks and legs taught and shapely. The taste of lipstick and smell of perfume, the reflection of his heavily made up face in mirror; it was all indescribably arousing to him.

Now in his late teens, Michael was left alone most of the time; with his sisters having married and moved out and his parents way on business he had the place to himself a lot of time. He acquired all the requisites he needed to crossdress and spent hours and sometimes days dressed as a woman, luxuriating in feeling feminine. He often masturbated whilst dressed; but it was more about the comfort he felt whilst dressed enfemme than the sexuality.

His life changed forever not long after his nineteenth birthday. Michele was dressed enfemme as usual on a rainy Saturday afternoon and was sitting quietly engrossed reading a fashion magazine. She never even heard the front door unlock nor the footsteps of her Uncle Bill and was shocked beyond speech when she looked up to see him standing over her.

“Oh my god!” Michele clasped a hand to her mouth in surprise.

“Oh my god! Is that you Michael?” Bill looked astounded.

“What are you doing here?” Michele asked.

“Your dad asked me to drop in and make sure you were ok; he and your mom have been away for over a week and were worried about you,” Bill replied.

“And you couldn’t call first! You couldn’t knock! For fuck sake Uncle Bill!” Michele began to whimper.

“Look we need to talk about this Michael,” Bill demanded.

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you,” Bill went on.

He sat down next to his nephew.

“It’s Michele,” Michele sobbed.

“When I’m dressed I’m Michele,” she explained.

“Ok Michele; do you want to explain?” Bill asked.

“Are you going to tell mom and dad?” Michele asked.

“Tell me about it first Michele,” Bill said placing a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Michele told her uncle about how his sisters dressed him as a girl and about how she had come to love dressing as a girl and did so at every opportunity.

“And no one knows?” Bill scooted up close to Michele.

“Well, now you do,” Michele heaved and tears ran down her cheeks.

“And soon everyone else will I suppose,” she cried

“There, there,” Bill patted her knee, his fingertip stroking the diaphanous nylon of her stocking.

Michele was sobbing and Bill pulled her to him so that her head rested on his shoulder; he hugged her and stroked her hair. Michele found this very comforting and also very feminine; a frail young woman being comforted by an older man. She could smell his aftershave, tobacco and whisky.

Bill rubbed her back and continued to stroke her hair; she felt so feminine in his arms and she smelt delicious and sexy. He held her like that for ages and then Bill became aware that he was becoming aroused.

“We don’t have to tell anyone you know,” he murmured quietly.

Michele raised her head and looked him in the eyes. She was young and beautiful, despite the smudged mascara; her sparkling green eyes, accentuated by eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara, her high sharp cheekbones defined by rouge and her full lips enhanced by ruby red lipstick.

“It can be our secret,” Bill sighed and lowered his face to hers.

Michele was too shocked to protest and when she felt his soft lips on hers she was at first confused, and then delighted. It was the ultimate compliment; a man found her attractive! This was what she had been missing dressing up alone, the companionship of someone who treated her just like a lady.

When Bill pulled her closer she responded and kissed him back. Bill slid his tongue into her mouth and at first Michele was shocked but it felt so nice, so natural, and she entwined her tongue with his. They kissed and hugged for at least half an hour and then breathless, Michele eased her face from his.

“Can this really be our secret Uncle Bill?” Michele looked searchingly into his eyes.

“Of course and it’s just Bill,” he pulled her to him again and Michele snuggled up to him and kissed him back.

They kissed for a while longer and then Michele felt Bill take her hand and guide it to his groin; her fingers felt the hardness of his member through his trousers and she snatched her hand away.

“No Bill!” she gasped, although they continued to kiss.

But then she felt Bill’s hand slide under her dress and caress her stocking-clad thighs and she melted. It felt so good, she felt like a woman being seduced by a man. She allowed him to stroke the soft creamy skin above her stocking welts and then he gently stroked her erect penis through her soft nylon panties and she shuddered with pleasure. Her hand snaked back down to his groin and she willingly gripped his erection through his trousers.

They continued to kiss and fondle; Bill gently stroking Michele’s throbbing penis through her knickers and Michele rubbing Bill through his trousers. Then she became adventurous and she undid his flies and snaked her fingers inside and found his hot, hard, erection; she gripped it and then raked her painted fingernails along the throbbing shaft. Bill squeezed Michele harder through her panties and they both gasped and slavered at each other with passion.

Michele stroked Bill’s cock; squeezing his bulbous glans and she felt the pre-seminal fluid leak from the eye. She stroked it faster and harder and Bill did the same to her. They both came in few seconds; she flooding her panties and Bill gushing into his underpants and trousers. They were kissing each other so passionately that their teeth were clicking together.

They remained snuggled up to each other, kissing, and stroking each other fondly on the cheek. Michele broke the kiss.

“I guess we both have a secret now,” Michele giggled.

Now she felt absolutely like a woman. A man had found her truly desirable and had made advances to her which she had welcomed.

“Let me get us a drink so we can talk more about this,” Bill said and disentangled himself from her.

He dropped his pants and kicked them off, followed by his socks and shoes. He hung his trousers over the back of a chair.

“I’ll let them dry out,” he smiled as he poured them both a glass of wine.

He returned and sat down next to Michele who had cleaned herself as best she could with some tissues. It wasn’t long before they were kissing again and that led to fondling and that led to them touching each other. This time Bill placed a firm hand on Michele’s neck and guided her face down to his groin. Michele hesitated only briefly before she lowered her mouth over his pulsating member and began to slather and suck it. Bill came almost instantly; he’d always dreamed of getting a blowjob but his church-going wife wouldn’t even entertain the idea and doled about sex once a month or so, lying frigid on her back in a full length dressing down.

Michele was so turned on when Bill exploded in her mouth; it gave her a feeling of power as well as femininity. She was shocked and then wonderfully surprised when Bill lowered his face to her lap, hiked up her skirt and began to kiss her through her knickers. When she was suitably tumescent Bill swallowed her cock and after sucking on it for barely thirty seconds she orgasmed as well.

Half an hour later they sat chatting on the lounge; Michele was lying with her head in his lap and Bill was stroking her hair soothingly, while his other hand explored her body.

“So it’s our secret. Whenever my mom and dad are away you come over and visit,” Michele summarised their conversation.

“Oh you bet darling and every opportunity we can get together, I would love to,” Bill smiled down at her.

“Hmm? What’s going on here then?” Michele turned her head towards Bill’s slowly thickening penis and licked the shaft.

Bill threw his head back and sighed.

“Oh you vixen!” he moaned and Michele engulfed his manhood.

And all was good for about a year and then one day in 1973 the inevitable happened. Michele’s bedroom door burst open and in strode her dad to find her on her back moaning with passion, her stocking-clad legs draped over Bills shoulders as he slowly fucked her. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that it wasn’t until Michele’s father’s roundhouse punch knocked Bill to the floor that they realised they had been caught.

It was chaos for a while, with accusations of homosexuality, incest and adultery, flung backwards and forwards between the two families. Eventually it was decided that to save the family name, Michael would join the Armed Forces and never crossdress again, and Bill would take a sabbatical from the college where he worked and take his wife on an extended European tour. The families would never mention the incident again.

“And so here I am; Recruit Michael Nyland, hiding my families’ shame by joining the Andrew,” Michele whispered.

Michele’s story had gotten Spike sexually aroused and he was doing his best to hide an erection.

“You mean Recruit Wren Michele Nyland,” Spike replied.

“Yes Leader,” Michele responded submissively.

“Come here!” he ordered.

Michele arose and stood to attention in front of him. Spike looked her up and down, her pretty face framed by the black bob, lovely green eyes, and slender neck with the tie knotted at her throat. Her white blouse billowed by breasts he knew were false but her slim hips were real as were those long, shapely legs enhanced by the sheer black stockings. Even her long elegant fingers looked lovely with their red nailpolish.

He reached out and pulled her into his lap; her soft buttocks pressing down on his erection. Her legs dangling over the armrest of the chair. He drew her face to his, her breath sweet with a hint of tobacco; he gazed in her eyes than he crushed her lips with his. Her arms went up around his neck and she pulled him to her as she returned the kiss.

To be continued.